“Something precious in the wide expanse”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Matthew 1:1-17 and Isaiah 2:1-5

November 27, 2022

I feel like we should begin by applauding Cassidy for reading all those names. Whew. This text from Matthew isn’t one most of us have had to read aloud….or even that most of us have probably taken much time to read silently. It’s what we might call a “throwaway text.” You’re reading along, you see all those names, your brain turns to mush and you just kind of skim through until you get to some more action. 

The Bible is full of genealogies. Apparently there are 18 of them in the First Testament and in the Second Testament we have 2 separate genealogies of Christ. The one Cassidy so graciously read for us today and another in the Gospel of Luke. If we resist the urge to skip over these texts, it’s actually pretty interesting to dig into them. For starters, the two lists in Matthew and Luke are very different. Just as the account of Christ’s birth is different in each gospel, so are the lists of Jesus’s ancestors. The list in Luke goes all the way back to Adam and the overall feel we get from it is how Jesus came to shine a light for the whole world.

Matthew’s list puts more of an emphasis on Jesus’s Jewish identity, tracing his lineage back to Abraham and highlighting Jesus’s royal status as the great, hoped-for King of the Jews. 

One fun fact about both lists is this: Jesus’s most immediate ancestor is Joseph. He is described as the son of Joseph, husband of Mary. Which is a lovely way the Bible affirms that family is not only about DNA but also about the ways we claim one another as kin. The same texts that tell us Joseph was Jesus’s adoptive father also make it clear that Joseph was Jesus’s REAL father. Love makes a family. 

If you know anything about these genealogies at all, it’s probably this: Matthew’s list includes several brave and spicy women. Though most genealogies in Jesus’s time and culture would have been traced through the patriarchs, Matthew can’t resist reminding us that Jesus is descended not just from powerful kings but some pretty incredible matriarchs, as well. 

We have Tamar, who resisted the confines of the patriarchy by using her unfaithful father-in-law’s weaknesses against him and getting what was rightfully hers. And Rahab, who existed on the margins of her society and bravely took in foreigners, helping the Israelites in their military campaign in Jericho. There’s Ruth, who faithfully clung to her mother-in-law Naomi and stayed loyal to her when she could have just as easily struck out on her own. And finally, Bathsheba, who - like Tamar - was the victim of a misogynistic culture and had the deck stacked against her - and yet she persevered through grief and loss, eventually becoming the queen mother. 

All of these women are complex characters. When I was a child, I was taught that they were unsavory; promiscuous and not ladylike enough to serve as role models. But when we resist the temptation to see this as a throwaway text - and the temptation to see these matriarchs as throwaway ancestors - we find powerful stories of people who exude resilience, survival, tenacity, and strength. 

If you’d like to learn more about the rich stories of Jesus’s matriarchs, you’re highly encouraged to join us for our adult Sunday School class this Advent season, or at least get a copy of the book we’re reading together. There’s more info about that in this week’s bulletin announcements. 

Matthew’s lifting up of the matriarchs in Jesus’s lineage connected with a book I recently finished: Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng. In this dystopian novel, an preteen boy named Bird Gardner is missing his mother. She disappeared several years ago and he doesn’t know where she went or why. But he knows he’s not supposed to ask. He and his father don’t speak of her anymore. 

Bird lives in a world where xenophobia has led to an Orwellian kind of oversight into citizens’ lives. Questioning the government isn’t allowed. Protesting isn’t allowed. Anti-Asian hate crimes are rampant. Safety is an illusion. 

Over the course of the novel, Bird eventually reunites with his mother, Margaret, and discovers why she went missing. He learns that for the past several years she’s been quietly traveling around the country, collecting stories. Stories from families whose children have been stolen by the government - taken away from their families under the guise of protecting the children from anti-American sentiments in their homes. 

I don’t want to give away too much of the book, but Margaret would fit right in with these matriarchs in Jesus’s lineage. She’s strong and wise and cunning. And she’s had to make incredibly difficult decisions because she’s living in a world that is designed to keep people like her quiet. But she perseveres and uses her voice to creatively speak words of hope and healing in a world that desperately needs it. And she does this by lifting up stories of people who exude resilience, survival, tenacity, and strength. 

Margaret refuses to see the disappeared children who have so carefully been hidden away as throwaway stories. At great risk to her own safety, she lovingly seeks out these stories, shining a light on their lives and amplifying their stories for all to hear. Her life, like the lives of Jesus’s foremothers, is one of resistance. And hope. 

Dr. Christine Hong, who is one of the contributors to the Advent devotionals from A Sanctified Art, writes about the power of remembering and honoring our own ancestors as an act of hope. She writes: 

In the Korean tradition, male babies are named by the oldest patriarch on the father’s side of a family. My paternal grandfather died before I was born, so it was my maternal grandfather who built my name. Even before I was born, he declared he would build a meaningful name for me (even though I was not a boy). I would receive a name with intention from the oldest living generation to the newest. He gave me the name Jin, which when paired with my surname, becomes Hong Jin, meaning “something precious in the wide expanse.” When I was born, he was not sure when he would get to meet his granddaughter with the vast ocean separating South Korea from California. In those days, it was not so easy or affordable to fly internationally. The name represented the connection he felt to me and my parents, despite what felt like an insurmountable distance between us. What is the Spirit of God if not the hope against hope in our lives? [2]

“What is the Spirit of God if not the hope against hope in our lives?” As this season of Advent begins, we are invited into this age-old story of hope, resistance, faithfulness. It’s a story full of complex ancestors, risky love, and powerful perseverance. It’s a vast story with room for all of our questions, messiness, and uncertainties. 

What first appeared to be a throwaway text is actually a great reminder of the awe-inspiring tapestry in which we make our home. Each of us is a unique thread with our own particular story. There are no throwaway threads - no throwaway stories or throwaway people. Each of us matters within the whole. 

Each thread is what Dr. Hong speaks of, “Something precious in the wide expanse.” Hong Jin. Margaret. Abraham. Isaac. Jacob. Judah. Tamar. Perez. Rahab. Boaz. Ruth. Jesse. David. Bathsheba. Joseph. Mary. Jesus. You. Me. 

From generation to generation. “Something precious in the wide expanse.” 

Thanks be to God. 

NOTES:

[1] Advent devotional, From Generation to Generation from A Sanctified Art, LLC. 

“Look Out”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Micah 5:2-5a; 6:6-8

November 13, 2022

Several weeks ago, I was looking ahead at upcoming scripture texts and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the prophet Micah would be with us today. With so many people in our congregation who have been deeply engaged in the fall election cycle, I knew the results might still be weighing heavily on our hearts this morning. For those who have been knocking on doors, writing postcards, talking to friends about the importance of voting, THANK YOU. I know that the week after an election can lead to a feeling of, “Ok, what now?” 

And so this passage from the prophet Micah comes to us from another part of the world far away from here in both time and space. But the context is familiar to us. Micah’s world was a big ol’ mess. Wars and threats of war. Big power players on the global stage casually creating chaos. And Micah himself writes from a rural area, far away from the halls of power in the capital city. An agricultural region. Then, as now, these flyover regions were places that were often forgotten by those in power….and yet the policies decided in the far away capital were things that intimately affected those who lived in the more rural areas. [1]

You may have heard that famous Karl Barth quote before, admonishing preachers to “preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.” This well-known passage from Micah falling on the Sunday after an election is the perfect set up for following Barth’s advice. 

Really, Barth’s advice is good for all of us, not just preachers. To be engaged, faithful followers of Jesus, we need to approach our whole lives with the Bible in one hand and the news of the day in the other, don’t we? That’s how we figure out how to actually walk in the ways of Jesus, not just think about it. 

Two weeks ago we observed All Saints’ Day and we remembered our call to “look up” at the cloud of witnesses who surround us, the saints who have gone before. Last week we heard the story of the healing of Naaman and were reminded that we also need to “look down” to learn from those that we might mistakenly think are beneath us and to allow the earth to teach us, too. 

This week, Micah reminds us of the importance of looking out. Looking all around us to see what work is ours to do. Looking out for those who have been pushed to the margins or forgotten. Looking out by being on guard against pride. Looking out for each other by reminding one another what matters most. 

Micah speaks to the elites of his day, reminding them that living faithfully can be boiled down to three brief imperatives. “Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God.” It really is as simple and as hard as that. 

This verse is a touchstone for Christians and Jews alike. And on the Sunday after an election, it’s a particularly grounding reminder. It’s easy to get our emotions really amped up when an election happens. But Micah reminds us that the work doesn’t actually change once the results come in. “Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God.” Those are our marching orders. When the people we want to win win, that’s what we’re supposed to do. When the people we didn’t want to win win, that’s what we’re supposed to do. My friend and colleague the Rev. Dr. Lori Walke said it eloquently earlier this week:

Election Day is never the end of the work. It's when we find out whose feet we'll be holding to the fire.

This is true even of candidates who would've made our work easier.

Feel your feelings, but the work is ever before us. [2]

Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly. That’s the work. No matter who’s in charge. 

And as we gather for our congregational meeting after worship today, it strikes me that Micah is also a perfect compliment to the work we’ll be doing during that meeting, too. 

In our tradition, we come together to prayerfully discern who we are and what ministry is ours to do as a congregation. We do this when we make big choices together and when we elect our leaders. We do this when we create our annual budget, which funds our ministries. All of these choices are about prioritizing what matters most. We do our best to approach these tasks with intention and wisdom - to ensure we’re being excellent stewards of our resources together. 

You know, back in 2020 when we first found ourselves re-inventing church and trying to figure out how to do absolutely everything in a new way, I heard some of you quote this verse in conversations we were having. We had to figure out which things were most important to us as a congregation and as individuals. And we remembered the guidance of this ancient prophet, Micah, as he told us what God is looking for, “Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly.” And so we focused on those things. We kept at them. 

And I have to tell you, I am so grateful for the faithfulness of this congregation over the past several years. The way you all showed up for one another and for the wider community is truly inspiring. We continued to feed the hungry, learned and grew together as we fumbled through weird online ways of engagement. We felt awkward as we eventually began meeting again with masks and distancing. We made difficult decisions and sacrifices to protect the health and well-being of the most vulnerable. We tried new things - some of which worked and some that didn’t…and that was okay. We certainly didn’t do everything perfectly but we stayed faithful to the call. We kept trying to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly - acutely aware that we’d mess some things up and get some things right and that we’d be accompanied by the Spirit the whole way through. 

When I think about what we’ve all been through as a society these past few years, I can scarcely believe we’re still functioning. We’ve lost so much - stability, predictability, routines and traditions, even people we love. There is so much to grieve. 

And at the same time there is much to celebrate. One of the things I am thankful for each and every day is the faithfulness of God in the midst of all this chaos. The one who has walked faithfully alongside us. God knows we’ve been humbled again and again as we’ve grappled with our mortality and deficiencies as humans. And through it all, God has walked with us, giving us the strength and support we need to keep showing up. To keep seeking ways to do justice and love mercy in our world. Even when we were exhausted. Even when we didn’t know how. Even when just putting one foot in front of the other seemed impossible. 

When I think about the chaos in Micah’s world and the chaos in our world, I give thanks for prophets who speak words of truth into difficult times. The ones who remind us what really matters. The ones who say, “Okay, friends. It really is as easy and as hard as this.” The ones who speak in needlepoint phrases we can remember. The ones who remind us that sometimes we need to hold together things that seem opposite each other. You know, like doing justice - which is all about making sure everyone gets what they deserve - and loving mercy - which reminds us that we also are to give others what they haven’t earned at all. We need both and Micah reminds us of that. 

“Do justice.” Keep looking at the systems and asking hard questions. Keep jumping into action and doing whatever is in your power to help those who might be left out. Keep focusing on what’s right. 

“Love mercy.” But don’t get so obsessed with what’s ‘right’ that you forget to be generous of heart and kind. Don’t get so hung up on justice that you harden your hearts. Remember what it feels like when grace is extended to you and seek to give that same grace to others. Approach life with a deeply loving heart. Not the kind of love that says ‘anything goes’ but the kind of love that expects much and makes space for growth and new life. 

And through it all, Micah reminds us to walk humbly alongside God. How could we be anything but humble when we know that the Spirit accompanies us? We don’t have to be big and puffed up. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to be exactly who God made us to be: weird and wacky and wonderful and trying and failing and getting it right - sometimes all on the same day. 

We can take sabbath rest, knowing that God will keep the world spinning even when we don’t. And we can also boldly speak and act in Christ’s name, knowing that as his disciples we are called to be his hands and feet on earth. We can keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, as we trust that the Spirit animates all our days. We walk with our feet firmly on the ground and our spirits reaching to the skies as we rejoice that we - and every other person we encounter - are created in God’s image. What a thing to remember. 

Micah reminds us what matters: justice, mercy, humility. And Micah keeps it so very simple (and so very hard) with those verbs: do, love, walk. 

But the thing that truly ties it all together is there at the very end: “with God.” That’s what gives us the ability to look out. To look out for others who need support. To look out for ourselves as we continue to do the hard work of being human. To look outside of our little bubbles and silos and engage with those who are different from us. To remember that elections come and go - pandemics come (and go - please, go) - prophets and rulers come and go - families change, churches change, bodies change. 

And the call is the same. God invites us to faithfully, humbly, keep walking alongside her. She did not abandon Micah and his people and she will not leave us. 

Do justice. Love mercy. Keep walking. May it be so. 

NOTES: 

[1] I am indebted to the BibleWorm podcast this week and Rev. Robert Williamson, Jr. for this observation about Micah’s rural context. 

[2] Rev. Dr. Lori M. Walke’s Facebook post on Nov. 9, 2022. 

“Look Down”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c

November 6, 2022

If you were with us in worship last week, you’ll remember that we spent time “looking up” at the great cloud of witnesses. We remembered our ancestors as we observed All Saints’ Day. We spent time in quiet contemplation and prayer giving thanks for the ways they showed us how we want to live our lives. 

This week, we’re going to be looking DOWN. 

For those here in the sanctuary, go ahead, look down. Do you see anything down there that seems out of place at all? 

(People will bring forward jars of dirt/pebbles, water, fall leaves, and gauze.)

One of my favorite things to do in autumn is look up at the gorgeous leaves on the trees AND look down to see if I can find some especially pretty ones to take home. I put a few of the ones I found yesterday in this jar so we can all enjoy them together. 

Today’s story from 2 Kings reminds us that the Spirit moves in all places, and that if we don’t look down from time to time, we’re going to miss her movements. 

Once upon a time there was a man named Naaman, who was commander of the army of Aram. Aram was neighbor to Israel and they were at odds. Aram has just defeated Israel in battle and we’re introduced to this Aramean military commander, Naaman. We’re told that he’s a powerful, decorated warrior. But also that he has a skin condition - that was troubling to him and others. 

The Arameans, when they defeated Israel in battle, took a young girl captive. We aren’t given her name, unfortunately, but she plays a key role in this story. The girl sees the struggle of her captor, Naaman. And so she gives Naaman’s wife a tip: “If only my lord were with the prophet in Samaria (Israel)! He could cure his skin ailment!”

We don’t know what motivates her to share this miraculous bit of information. Perhaps she’s just an incredibly kind person and is looking out for the well-being of all, even her enemies. Maybe she, like Joseph of the Technicolor Dreamcoat before her, simply understands that if you find yourself captured by the enemy it’s better to make yourself indispensable. We don’t know.;

What we do know is that Naaman listens to her. 

Kind of. 

If Naaman had simply done what the girl had suggested, this whole story would be quite short. And maybe we wouldn’t even know it. 

But Naaman goes a little sideways. He listens but in a kind of “Uh, huh. Uh, huh. Uh, huh,” sort of way. Maybe he was scrolling through his social media while she was talking because he doesn’t quite get it right.

Instead of going directly to the prophet in Samaria, he goes UP the chain of command to the king of Aram. And maybe the king of Aram was ALSO scrolling on his phone because he doesn’t hear it quite right EITHER. Instead of sending Naaman to the prophet in Samaria, he sends him to the KING of Israel. 

And so, off Naaman goes to Samaria, seeking healing. (Here’s a bandage to represent healing, by the way.) He takes with him a passel of gifts that is, I think, meant to be comical. “Ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, two Bentleys, ten sets of garments, including a couple of Armani suits.”

Now LISTEN. What did the girl say? She said, “GO SEE THE PROPHET IN SAMARIA.”

But here we are: Naaman went to see the king of Aram, who sent him to the king of Israel. With all these extravagant gifts as a peace offering or straight up bribe, I suppose. 

The king of Israel reads the letter from the king of Aram. And now this is like a game of telephone. The letter says, “This is my servant, Naaman. I sent him to you so you can cure him of his skin ailment.”

Nothing about the prophet. YOU can cure him of his ailment. 

These generals and kings are just giant adventures in missing the point. They are so sure that the answers are to be found within the hierarchy. So sure they should always be looking at their own level or higher that it doesn’t occur to them to look down. To look down and TRULY listen to the words of a foreign servant girl. To look down and go directly to the prophet in an enemy nation and ask for help. 

The king of Israel is displeased. He thinks it’s a trap. “What? Cure you? I can’t do that! Only God can do that!”

Somewhere off in the hinterlands, the prophet (yes, that one), Elisha, is scrolling mindlessly through his phone when he feels a tingle in the back of his neck. Elisha hears about what happened with the king and sends him a message, “No worries. Send him to me. I’ll show him that there’s a true prophet in Israel.”

So off Naaman goes with his horses and chariots and Bentleys down to Elisha’s house. He pauses at the entrance and Elisha sounds out a messenger. Here’s another servant, friends. Another low-status person with answers. The messenger says, “Go dip yourself into the Jordan River seven times and be healed.” (Jar of water)

Naaman is incredulous. And here he shows his prejudice. Is he willing to talk to the king of an enemy nation? Okay. Is he willing to even come to a prophet’s home of a religion that isn’t his? Okay. But now - now! - he’s stopped to this level and the prophet doesn’t even come to greet him but sends a SERVANT to tell him to go take a bath in the local river? This is a bridge too far for this powerful man. 

“Listen, here. The rivers back in my homeland are mightier than your puny little Jordan River here. If I’m going to wash myself in a river, I’ll just take myself back to MY land, thank you very much.”

And he turns to stomp out, grumbling about the absurdity of it all. 

That could have been the end. But there are a couple more nameless servants who come bearing truth. Naaman’s own servants say to him, “Look, sir. If the prophet had told you to do something really hard, you would have done it, right? Why not just try this simple thing? What do you have to lose?”

And so, Naaman listens. This time he’s put his phone away and he actually HEARS the words completely. He listens to those who he thinks of as “beneath him” and goes to the river. Looking down at the land and the water there, he steps into the Jordan. He washes seven times. He finds himself healed. And he gives thanks to the God of Israel saying, “NOW I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”

And everyone lived happily ever after. The end. 

But I still have this jar of dirt left. Hmm. 

This story is about looking down. And part of that looking down is reminding ourselves, “Don’t be like these powerful guys. Don’t miss the healing that’s out there because you’re only looking UP these imaginary hierarchies for answers. Look up, look down, look all around for wisdom. Listen to the voices of those that society has pushed to the margins. Listen to people you think are ‘beneath you.’ Listen to children, those with accents different than yours, those you think of as servants. It turns out everyone has wisdom to share. And if you don’t look up, down, and all around you’re going to miss out.”

Another part of that looking down is about the dirt here in this jar. And about our connection to the one we call Mother Earth. Elisha could have come out with sparks and flame and fire and magic tricks. But it turns out Elisha the prophet didn’t do much at all. 

Except this: the prophet knew where to find the healing waters that were already there, freely available to anyone who was paying attention. Part of the looking down that this story reminds us of is to look to our Mother, the Earth. To treat the ground we walk on daily with reverence. To remember that Earth provides what we need for life, sustenance, and even healing from so much of what ails us. We cannot lose our connection to this incredible place we call home. 

We have to keep looking down, giving thanks for the goodness that flows from the earth, and listening to the prophets who remind us of our unending connection with and dependence upon this planet. 

May we keep looking down. Amen.