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Sunday, July 19, 2020

“Stories of Unraveling: Exodus”

Exodus 5:1-23
July 19, 2020
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood 
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

If you only know a handful of stories from the Bible, you know this one. 

The story of God guiding the enslaved Israelites towards freedom looms large in our collective cultural imagination. 

Baby Moses in the basket floating down the river. Moses taking off his shoes to stand on holy ground by the bush that burned but was not consumed. God patiently teaching Moses how to speak, how to act, how to make calculated, persistent movement towards justice in a cosmic chess game. 

Pharaoh who refuses to listen. Pharaoh whose heart is hardened. Pharaoh whose stubbornness brings about devastation for the people of Egypt. 

Parents, children, elders weeping in pain and anguish because their leaders use them like pawns. Parents, children, elders weeping in uncertainty and fear as they hurriedly pack their most precious belongings and escape under the cover of darkness. 

Parents, children, elders looking up with amazement as the waters part, as freedom comes so near they can taste it on their tongues. 

Parents, children, elders dancing abandon as Miriam and the other women joyfully rattle their tambourines and sing a song of praise to God - who has created freedom where there was once captivity. Hope where there was once desperation. 

We can almost hear their voices now across the centuries: “God is my strength and my might and has become my salvation….Who is like you, O God, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in splendor, doing wonders?’

No wonder this story looms so large in our collective consciousness. It’s an epic tale. And it serves as a foundational story in both the Jewish and Christian faiths about who God is and who we are as God’s people. It’s a story that has enough action to keep our attention. It’s a story that inspires action for those who long for freedom.

It’s also a story with enough depth that you can get tangled up in theological quandaries if you really dive into it. After all, we all want the Israelites to be liberated. But it can also feel troubling to look at the cost of that liberation. This is not a nonviolent, peaceful revolution. Blood is shed, innocent people are killed. When the Israelites sing on the seashore, they are celebrating because they believe God has killed their enemies, “I will sing to God because God has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.”

Oh. Hmmm. 

So it’s a difficult story. A complex story. And the story becomes more complex when we, as people living in the 21st century, try to enter it. You know, one really simple and brilliant way to do Bible study, whether it’s on your own or with a small group, is to just do this: as you read the story, insert yourself into it as a particular character. And then read it again, but put yourself in the place of a different character. 

It’s amazing how much a story can change depending on where we place ourselves, isn’t it? I’ll never forget a seminary professor who asked us who we identified with in this story. For many of us, it was the Israelites. We cheered for them, worried with them, rejoiced with them. But our professor challenged us: based on the world we live in, the location you occupy in this world, do you think you have more in common with the Israelites or with Pharaoh? 

Oh. Hmmm. 

Of course, I don’t think any of my classmates had ever been literally enslaved or occupied the role of a monarch. And too many of my peers had experienced oppression severe enough that they really did know what it felt like to be an Israelite. But for some of us, me included, it was clear that we could never really experience the exquisite joy of the Israelites because we had never experienced life in captivity. 

So perhaps the better question isn’t really, “Who are you in this story?” But rather questions like: 
How is the world in this story like our world?
And how should we live our lives in this world? 
And where is God in the midst of our living?

It’s not hard to see parallels between ancient Egypt and our own society, of course. Both are overly focused on the bottom line, putting economic concerns above all others. And in both systems, the economic structures in place ensure that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Dazzling displays of wealth at the top of society are just a thin veneer over a crumbling reality below….where so many are unable to afford shelter, food, and other basic necessities. Both societies are fairly obsessed with the unending cycle of production and consumption. 

It is, of course, that obsession with production and consumption that drives this story forward. 

The system of enslavement for the Israelites became more and more terror-filled as those in power demanded unrealistic quotas for production. The entire fight here is essentially about sabbath - time off, time away from working, time to be human beings not humans doing. Time for rest and rejuvenation. Time to worship God and celebrate the gift of being alive. Or, as the modern labor movement put it: “hours for work, 8 hours for rest, 8 hours for what we will.” 

Sabbath. Rest. Time to step off the endless cycle of production and just be a human. A FREE human. 

But because he did not see the Israelites as humans, but rather as expendable cogs in a well-oiled economic machine, Pharaoh refused to grant them this small bit of freedom. It didn’t serve his interests, so he wasn’t interested. 

Someone else WAS interested, though. The same God who sought freedom for the Israelites is the same God who stands with the oppressed in our world today. The Rev. Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas explains why this story is such an important one for Black Americans and others who have been enslaved. It is because this story is about a God who relentlessly seeks freedom for all people...and a God who never lets her sights off those who are in need of liberation. 

Brown Douglas writes, “What the enslaved understood and testified to in song is that God’s preferential option in the exodus story is for freedom. This is the way that we are to understand the centrality of the exodus story in black faith. It confirms that God’s intention is for all people, including black people, to be free to live into the goodness of their very creation. It is only in freedom that people are able to reflect the very image of a God who is free from all human forms of bondage.” [1]

If we are created in God’s image...and God is free...then we humans must be free. Full stop. And we can either be about the work of creating liberation and justice for all people - which is God’s work - or we can collaborate with the Pharaohs of our day. 

I suppose when you put it that way, the story isn’t that complex at all, is it? It’s a story about who God is - the One who is free and relentlessly seeks freedom for all people - and a story about how we humans respond to the God of Liberation. 

For those who are oppressed, it’s a powerful story of hope and possibility. It’s a story that boldly claims that God is still speaking and still creating. Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann reminds us again and again that, in the beginning, God spoke words of abundant life into creation. [2] The world was lush, beautiful, and there was more than enough for everyone’s needs. The natural order of our world isn’t fear over having enough resources or living with a scarcity mindset, he says. Our natural state is abundance and goodness and more-than-enoughness. 

This story of unraveling is about what happens to creation when powers like the Pharaoh try to undo God’s desires for abundant goodness. Artist Lauren Wright Pittman sees the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart as prophetic. It is a cautionary tale for us - warning us to be on guard against allowing ourselves to give into the temptation to be like Pharaoh. She writes, “This narrative reveals to us how a person’s clinging to power can literally unravel creation. We often undo the threads of creation, while God entreats us to become co-creators. We have seam rippers in our hands when God wants us to have needle and thread. There is a difficult hope in the narrative, however. Our own unraveling of God’s dream for creation is not strong enough to thwart God’s plan. Ultimately the Israelites find liberation. In this image, the waters of the parted Red Sea frame the chaos of the plagues. We will succeed, with God’s help, in healing the earth. We just need to allow God to soften our hearts, to take initiative in changing our perspective, and to welcome the challenge of restoring creation.” [3]

What an invitation: “allow God to soften our hearts, to take initiative in changing our perspective, and to welcome the challenge of restoring creation.”

Let us go forth with softened hearts, welcoming the call to restore creation. And let us be ever-led by our Stillspeaking God. The one weaving creation into abundance even now. For the Liberated One is also the Liberating One - relentlessly pushing for all people to live in the freedom that is our birthright as people created in God’s image. Free to love God and free to love our neighbors as ourselves. 

May it be so. Amen. 


NOTES:
[1] Kelly Brown Douglas. Stand Your Ground: Black Bodies and the Justice of God. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2015. 158-9.
[2] Walter Brueggemann. “The Liturgy of Abundance, The Myth of Scarcity.” Published on Religion Online. Article first published in the
Christian Century, March 24-31, l999. https://www.religion-online.org/article/the-liturgy-of-abundance-the-myth-of-scarcity/?fbclid=I
wAR1fxG2e4kITWshJDp4EfW5jd0pTZ88Dw6bSAbTzDCwXp7df_v1sDSq7oRo#content
[3] Lauren Wright Pittman. Artist’s Statement from Unraveled Study Guide. A Sanctified Art. 

Sunday, July 5, 2020

“Stories of Unraveling: Zacchaeus”

Luke 19:1-10
July 6, 2020
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Last weekend our family prepared to have a couple of friends over to visit. We put lawn chairs in our yard about 15 feet apart and got our masks ready. Instead of putting a yummy beverage on the table near their chairs, we lovingly placed a bottle of hand sanitizer. 

One of our kids said, “Remember when we used to have people over for dinner?” We all laughed at how strange that idea seems right now. We miss easy and casual conversation around a table piled high with good things to eat. Board games played late and laughter flowing. 

We miss those gatherings AND we trust they will happen again. Just like I miss being in the same room with all of you on Sunday morning AND I trust that physically gathering for worship will happen again. We are in a different season right now and it is my hope and prayer that in this season we will continue to make space for the Spirit to move in our individual and collective lives - to shape and re-form us for a more faithful, just, and loving future. 

For now, as we live and move and have our being in this liminal time, we gather in other ways. We do this because Christ calls us to care for others and to care about the wholeness and health of the whole community. 

We continue to worship online so that the essential worker and others who have to go out to their jobs each day are at less risk. We continue to worship online in hopes that our kids might be able to return to their classrooms this fall. We continue to worship online so our loved ones who live in care facilities might be able to have visitors someday soon. We continue to worship online so those who are high risk can go to the grocery store with less fear. 

Thank you for the ways you are caring for others by continuing to worship online, wearing your mask in public, and taking other precautions that protect the health of our whole community. We are all making sacrifices right now for the good of the whole. I know it’s not always easy, but it is important. And I want to thank you.

Okay, but so what does this have to do with Zacchaeus? Well, I was thinking about that funny-sounding idea of having friends over for dinner when I heard the story from Luke’s gospel this week. Because we are told that Jesus goes to Zacchaeus’s house. And when I tried to envision that in my mind, my brain did the thing that it does when I’m watching a TV show and people are standing less than six feet apart. “No, Jesus! Don’t go in!” Does anyone else do that when you’re watching TV these days?

I digress. Because Jesus going into Zacchaeus’s house has nothing to do with our pandemic in 2020, of course. Jesus goes into Zacchaeus’s house because Jesus is Love Incarnate. When we say our mission is to Love Unconditionally? We do that because Jesus is our model and teacher. And Jesus goes into Zacchaeus’s house just as surely as he comes to each of our homes….he meets us at the communion table, he meets us in our times of private meditation and contemplation, he meets us on Zoom when we gather for prayers on Thursday night or class and laughter on Tuesday afternoons. 

Jesus meets Zacchaeus as surely as he meets each of us. And when Jesus meets Zacchaeus, there is an unraveling. An unraveling of Zacchaeus’s own life as he is transformed by Christ’s love. An unraveling of everyone’s expectations as Jesus warmly meets a man who would have been looked down upon by so many gathered there that day. 

That’s one of the most difficult and wonderful things about Jesus, isn’t it? The way he insists on loving EVERYONE. When he entered Jericho that day there were large crowds gathered to see him and hear him teach. If you had wandered through the crowd and asked people what type of person Jesus would choose to spend his precious time with, they probably wouldn’t have guessed it would be someone like Zacchaeus. 

Not just a tax collector, but a chief tax collector. A person who was not only complicit in economic systems that harm, but actively made his living off of those systems. We have to remember that people like Jesus and his closest friends were living under Roman occupation. They lived in a society where they were routinely taken advantage of and the economic deck was stacked against them. No matter how hard they worked, there was no pulling themselves up by their bootstraps because the system ensured they didn’t have bootstraps to begin with. Roman tax collectors were a crucial part of maintaining the status quo - making sure the rich stayed rich and the poor stayed poor. 

Jesus knew all of this, of course. 

But when he came into Jericho, he went right up to Zacchaeus and greeted him by name. “Zacchaeus, I am going to your house today.” 

I have to wonder what Zacchaeus thought at that moment. Was he feeling uncomfortable about the four-car garage awaiting them? Did he try to figure out what meal would be nice enough for Jesus but not so nice that it would reek of conspicuous consumption? Did he wonder if his family or servants would give him a funny look for showing up with this radical itinerant Jewish teacher? 

Or maybe he was just thinking about his life. And how he felt like it was all unraveling. What worked before wasn’t working anymore. The old way of doing things seemed...broken. But he couldn’t quite see a way forward. He didn’t know the next step to take. 

I think it was probably that last part that carried Zacchaeus’s feet to the top of that tree in Jericho that day. Not knowing exactly what he needed to do next but knowing he had to take a step towards this teacher, Jesus. 

I wonder if he was nervous about being seen by Jesus. Lord knows Zacchaeus wasn’t perfect. Not by a long shot. What if Jesus ridiculed him publicly? Or did that thing that he was known for - telling a story that was hard to decipher? Or worse….what if he told a story that was easy to decipher and made it clear that Zacchaeus was a horrible, terrible, awful, sinful person outside of the realm of salvation? 

What ifs swirling, Zacchaeus took a step towards Jesus. And Jesus responded by taking a step towards Zacchaeus. He greeted him. Went to his home. Those who saw it grumbled, “Why is Jesus wasting his time with a sinner? There are plenty of ‘good people’ here for him to talk to.”

Of course, if they had been paying attention to Jesus at all, they wouldn’t have been surprised. Spending time with those we might think of as “unworthy” is kind of Jesus’s thing. Just when we think we have some kind of hold on him and understand who’s in and who’s out, Jesus shakes his head and reminds us, “everyone’s in.” Just when we think we’ve drawn the circle in the sand big enough to include everyone who needs to be included, Jesus bends down and erases the circle completely. 

There is no in, there is no out. There’s just love. And a continual movement towards one another in a steady dance of unraveling expectations. 

Zacchaeus steps towards Jesus when he climbs that tree. 
Jesus steps towards Zacchaeus when he greets him warmly. 
Zacchaeus takes another step when he tells Jesus of his plans to radically alter his life. 

His conversion is concrete and specific. He’s not just saying the words, he’s changing his actions. And his decision to give away half of what he has and try to make financial amends to those he has hurt in the past is a direct response to the grace and love Christ gives to him. Hearing these actions, Jesus pronounces that he is saved. But it’s not a private, individual salvation. And it’s not a salvation that’s relegated to the afterlife. Remember that salvation has the same root as salve - a healing balm. 

Zacchaeus’s salvation brings healing not only to himself but also to his household and everyone who makes financial transactions with him. It’s concrete, specific, communal. And it’s salvation - healing - that happens here and now. 


When we show up in faith - when we gather at Christ’s table - when we wake up each day and ask ourselves really and truly, “how can I love God and love my neighbor as myself today?”... 

When we welcome Christ into our hearts and homes…. When we make difficult choices because they are what will bring healing to the whole community... When we take a single step towards Jesus, trusting he will meet us there again and again….

We do these things because we are willing - on at least some level - to allow this wild and wondrous faith of ours unravel us. Unravel our ways of being. Unravel our lives. Unravel our expectations. 

We don’t have to be perfect. We don’t even have to be “good.” Christ meets us nevertheless. 

And calls us by name. And wants to join us in our homes and hearts. And unravels our expectations about who belongs….again and again and again. 

Thanks be to God.