“In the Lions’ Den: A Song of Ascents”

Daniel 6:6-27 and Psalm 126

November 29, 2020

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood 

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Friends, we’ve almost made it to December. 2020 has only been 5,689 days long, you know, so this feels like a bit of an accomplishment. 

I’ve noticed that a lot of people have put up their Christmas lights early this year and I assume it’s because many of us are craving the warm fuzzy feelings December can bring. 

The wonder of seeing a Christmas tree through a child’s eyes. The joy of telling stories about Christmases past around a table with family and friends. The deep peace we feel when the house grows quiet on Christmas Eve and we stand for a moment in front of the nativity and give thanks for the gift of Jesus. 

Of course, December isn’t always warm and fuzzy. 

Family relationships can be strained. The season can bring stress and grief. There are years when we sing Silent Night but don’t feel the Spirit move. This year brings additional pain as many of us won’t be gathering with our families, won’t be gathering in our churches, won’t be returning to our well-loved traditions. There will be empty chairs at many holiday gatherings this year. And so many feel weighed down by economic insecurity and anxiety about the future. 

Regardless of how we feel as we head into December, God stands alongside us ready to walk alongside us as a new church year begins. Today we welcome the season of Advent. A season of waiting, watching, wondering. We know that Christ is arriving yet again and we do our best to prepare our hearts to receive the gift. For many, Advent is a contemplative time. A time for stillness and quiet. A time for introspection and making space for God’s still, small voice. 

And so it seems odd to me that the scripture text this first Sunday in Advent is…..Daniel. In the lions’ den. 

After all, this is decidedly NOT a quiet or contemplative text. It’s a big, roaring story full of tension and drama. The whole book of Daniel is like that, actually. Made for the big screen. Not at all peaceful or quiet. What an odd way to begin the season of Advent. 

If you’ve had a chance to pick up a copy of this year’s Advent Devotional, you already know that this year’s theme is “Those Who Dream.” We are invited to dream alongside God….to make space for the Spirit to move within our hearts and inspire us to faithful action here and now. In 2020. 

Daniel is a dreamer. Well, more accurately, an interpreter of dreams. The book that bears his name is a collection of stories and apocalyptic visions set in the time of the Babylonian Exile. At the beginning of the book, Israel is conquered by the Babylonian Empire and a character named Daniel is taken away from Jerusalem along with a few other young Jews. The rest of the book follows Daniel as he makes his way in a foreign land. Early on, he interprets a king’s dreams and, in this way, makes a name for himself. You might be hearing echoes of another dreamer, Joseph, who also had to learn how to survive in a foreign land and did so by interpreting dreams and serving in positions of authority in the local government. 

The story also echoes the Book of Esther - another story about a faithful Jew living in a foreign land and trying to stay true to her own identity and faith while labeled as an outsider. 

These are stories about how to hold on to our identity and faith when the world around us seems to be going a different direction. We can imagine all of these characters looking at their surroundings and saying, “How can I fit in here?” and wondering a bit about how the dominant culture seemed so very different from their own values. Anyone who has looked at the world around them and shaken their heads, thinking, “I just don’t understand why everyone else thinks X” or “I’m tired of feeling like the only person who believes Y” has a kindred spirit in Daniel, Joseph, and Esther. 

When we feel out-of-sync with the dominant culture surrounding us, stories like Daniel’s remind us that we aren’t alone. We stand in a long line of faith ancestors who struggled to stay faithful when it would have been much easier to just go with the flow of the world around them.

How do we find the strength we need to hold tight to our faith when the going gets really, really tough? Most of us won’t find ourselves in literal lions’ dens, of course, but we all face adversity at one time or another. 

The psalmist has a thing or two to teach us about this, it seems. These ancient prayers often recount the wondrous things God has done...and they also don’t shy away from being honest about how intensely difficult it can be to just be a human sometimes. Prayer after ancient prayer pours forth praise...and many of them also complain bitterly about the struggles and challenges inherent to the human condition. 

Psalm 126, which we heard today is labeled as “a song of ascents.” We’re not 100% sure why some of the psalms are given this title, but it’s probably because they were meant to be prayed on the way to the temple in Jerusalem...prayed while ascending to Jerusalem to seek a connection with God there. 

I like that image of ascending to Jerusalem right now, at the beginning of Advent. 2020 has been such a long and difficult year. Advent presents an opportunity for us to intentionally connect with the Holy. To pause and make space for contemplation and quiet. Perhaps this year it will be easier than usual to do that. Without the typical frenzy of parties and Black Friday shopping and houseguests, maybe, just maybe we will all be able to be fully present with Advent this year. Perhaps in 2020 we can make space to listen for God more intently and tap into the beauty of God’s dreams. Because God is the one who is always dreaming alongside creation. God dreamed the world into being, faithfully weaves new dreams alongside humanity, and promises to dream alongside us forever and ever...world without end...Amen. 

The psalmist knows about this dreaming God who was present, is present, and promises to be with us always. Because Psalm 126 is about who God has been in the past and who God will be in the future. It begins with joy and celebration, praising God for all that’s already taken place:

When God restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. 

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy. 

Then it was said among the nations, “God has done great things for them!”

God has done great things for us. And we rejoiced. 

You can almost hear echoes of Daniel’s story, Joseph’s story, Esther’s story there can’t you? Shouts of joy because of God’s faithfulness. Laughter and celebration because God is a God of restoration. The One who is able to turn tears into rejoicing. The One who will not forsake us, even when the waters threaten to overwhelm. The One who is with us always - Emmanuel. 

But the psalmist doesn’t pray this prayer from a place of ease and comfort. The psalmist proclaims God’s steadfast faithfulness during a time of challenge. Because the end of the psalm is a begging kind of prayer:

Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb. 

May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. 

Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, 

Shall come home with shouts of joy carrying their sheaves. 

A dear friend of mine posted on Facebook earlier this week her own brief psalm. She testified about where she’s found herself this year….the challenges of balancing work, life, love, parenting all in the midst of 2020. And she gave thanks for God’s unfailing presence in it all. She said, “God partners with me. I am a partner of God. Hallelujah and Amen.”

In her words, I saw a vision of these ancient, weary travelers on the road to Jerusalem. They, too, sing of a God who has already restored...while begging for God to restore once again. Can you see them each carrying their heavy burdens as they climb the hill? Maybe the traveler up in front walks with a spring in her step, but you also notice the creases of worry in her forehead. The young person bringing up the rear is a little bowed over...you can almost see that they’re feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders. 

Their worries were probably not so different than ours...or Daniel’s or Joseph’s or Esther’s. They worried about the health of loved ones. They wondered how they would pay their bills. They lost sleep over children - babies and toddlers and adults. They felt deep sorrow over griefs big and small….lost loved ones, lost opportunities, lost dreams. They carried the heavy burdens of chronic mental and physical health problems. They felt lonely, left out. They wept over the injustice and cruelty they witnessed. They looked at the work that was theirs to do and felt they weren’t up for the task. They obsessed over their failures and hardly noticed when they got things right. Some of them suffered real and true persecution…..some were survivors of unimaginable horrors, violence, abuse, trauma. They tried to figure out how to forgive those who had hurt them….and how to make amends with those they had hurt. 

Can you see them now? All those many many centuries ago as they climb the hill to Jerusalem? I can’t quite make out their faces, but, oh, I can see their hearts with the eye of my own heart. 

They went along singing songs of joy to Emmauel - God with us - even in their time of deep anguish and pain. They sang that ancient song that my friend was singing earlier this week, “God partners with me. I am a partner of God. Hallelujah and Amen.”

You know, we aren’t privy to what Daniel did when he was in the lion’s den overnight, but I imagine he may have had a similar song on his lips, too:

Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb. 

May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. 

Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, 

Shall come home with shouts of joy carrying their sheaves. 

When God restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. 

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy. 

Then it was said among the nations, “God has done great things for them!”

God has done great things for us. And we rejoiced. 

"Hunkered Down"

Jonah 1:1-3; 3:1-10 

November 8, 2020

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood 

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Breathe in, breathe out. Choose love. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Feel lost at sea. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Seek peace. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Lose hope. 

You know, some say that God’s name - YHWH - is the sound of our breath. And so, when we breathe, we are uttering God’s name in each moment. God is so intimately present with our bodies that God is the very source of life - our breath. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

We are still here, friends. Still breathing. Still together. Even after this week. 

And God’s loving presence is here. Still breathing. Still present with us. Even after this week. 

As I stand here, I am actually not quite through this week yet. One of the limitations of our current way of worshiping is that the service has to be pre-recorded and then put together to reach you on Sunday mornings, so it’s only Thursday for me right now. 

And I know that many things may continue to shift and change between now and Sunday morning when you receive this message. Together, we pray with every breath that there will not be violence. Together, we pray with every breath that those who are so anxious about their civil rights and lives will find the strength they need to make it through whatever comes next. Together, we pray AND commit ourselves to action. To “take our stand for justice and peace, confident God’s concern embraces the whole world.”

No matter the outcome of this particular election...no matter what happens in the next few days or weeks or months, there are some things that have not changed. Our work as followers of Jesus has not changed. Our scriptures tell us that we are to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.” And when Jesus was asked about the most important thing in life he said it’s to “love God, and love our neighbor as ourselves.” 

That is our work, friends. It has not changed and will not change. It is work that will always need to be done. 

You may not feel up to it today. That’s okay. There are moments in our lives where we reach for Love but cannot find it. There are moments when all we can do is pray through tears. There are times when we want so desperately to be our best selves but fall short. 

Last week in worship we heard the story of Elijah and a widow who lived in Zarephath: two desperate people, running on empty, leaning into God to make it through the day. I closed the sermon last week by saying that when we are feeling desperate...when we are running on empty….we can cling to the stories of our faith ancestors as we pray. When we can’t take anymore of the bad news happening right at this moment we can hold on tight to the stories of our faith to sustain us. 

And so, today, we hear the story of that famous prophet Jonah. And this story is certainly a good one to cling to in the midst of troubled times. The book is just four chapters long, short enough to read in one sitting. And the main character is Jonah - who is really a caricature of a biblical prophet, almost certainly not a historical figure at all. The story begins in storybook kind of way, “Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah saying ‘Go at once to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.”

But Jonah doesn’t go to Nineveh. Instead, he goes in the opposite direction, catching a boat to Tarshish. Along the way God causes a big storm and Jonah begs to be thrown overboard in order to make the storm stop. God sends along a big fish to swallow him up and he offers a heartfelt prayer from the belly of the fish. Eventually, Jonah is spit out and washed ashore. 

Again, God tells him to go to Nineveh and this time he obeys. He walks through the city shouting that the people there need to turn and repent of their evil ways or their city will be destroyed. Lo and behold, the people listen, repent, and are forgiven. Jonah gets mad that God is being so merciful to them and then there’s this whole weird thing at the end of the book involving Jonah and God and a bush that I don’t have time to go into today, but you should definitely pick up a Bible and read the whole story when you have time. 

Who are we, if we choose to enter this story? Are we Jonah? Weary prophets who have the best of intentions but really just want to run away? We may not want to answer when God calls. And so we try to run away...going in the wrong direction. We may toss and turn in tempestuous seas. We may wonder if God has abandoned us. We may find ourselves hunkered down in a deep, dark place praying with all our might to a God that we’re not really sure is listening. 

Or maybe we’re the people of Nineveh. 

People living in a land that’s been going the wrong way for a long time. We may look around at the terrible sins that are alive and well in our nation and feel a connection with the people in Nineveh. Are we listening for the prophets in our midst? Are we open to learning, changing, growing, moving in new ways together? And if and when the mercy of God falls upon us, are we ready to receive that gift and move into a new way of being….together?

No matter where we place ourselves in the story, I want to focus our attention for a moment on what God is doing in this story. Because God is moving in a consistent way. 

Even though Jonah runs from God and goes the wrong way for a time, God persistently stays with Jonah, calling him back to the work that is his to do and using him in important ways. God’s hopefulness, God’s love, God’s grace are much bigger than Jonah could imagine...much bigger than WE can imagine. God is moving faithfully.

Even though Nineveh has done evil and is has been going the wrong way for a long time, God persistently calls out to them, calling them back to the people they can become. God’s hopefulness, God’s love, God’s grace is much bigger than the people of Nineveh might have imagined...much bigger than WE imagine. God is moving faithfully.

God’s faithfulness, God’s love, God’s grace is so BIG in this story that even Jonah is annoyed by it. Jonah wants the wicked to be punished, the tables turned...but God has other plans. God’s mercy, God’s grace, God’s love flows through this story in ways that can make us uncomfortable. After all, it can be so easy to point our fingers at other people who are “going the wrong way” and say we want God’s justice to rain down on them. And sometimes in the Bible that certainly happens. But in THIS particular story, God is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” (Ps. 145:8)

This God is steady and sure. This God is Love so big it bothers us. This God is so intimately present that we can’t run away...even if we want to, even if we really, really try. This God is the one who keeps holding out hope, even when we’re sick of it. This God is the insistent voice telling us we are still called to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly, even if we don’t wanna. 

This God is the one who pursues us in love even when we’re running the wrong way. This God is the one who never loses hope that we humans can still turn it around...turn from our evil ways and finally build the Beloved Community together. 

This God is the one who is with us even when we’re in the storm...or in the belly of the fish. 

And so, beloveds, that image of Jonah in the belly of the fish is where I want to end today. 

Because as we go forward together into whatever comes next, that’s the image I’ve been carrying with me. God’s beloved people….exhausted, struggling….hunkered down in a deep, dark place just praying for the storm to pass. 

We are hunkered down together, friends. And we are not alone. Our God is with us and will not forsake us. No matter how the seas swirl...no matter how long we go the wrong way...no matter how far we try to run away. The One whose grace and mercy is big enough to make us uncomfortable is with us even now. And forevermore. 

Let’s pray together, shall we? While we’re hunkered down here together? Let’s pray a familiar prayer. Let’s pray the prayer that Jesus taught us. I invite you to use whatever version of the prayer is most familiar and meaningful for you, praying….

Our God who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. 

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. 

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power,

and the glory, forever. Amen.

"Running on Empty"

 “Running on Empty”

1 Kings 17:1-16

November 1, 2020

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood 

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Do you have anything you like to hold onto when you pray? A stone? A cross? Prayer beads? A mantra or scripture verse? Something else entirely? If you’re logged into Facebook, share in the comments about what you hold onto when you pray.

Every night before I go to sleep and then again in the morning when I wake up, I pray while snuggled up warm in my bed. And while I do so, I usually hold onto this pendant. My great-grandmother gave it to me when I was born. On one side it has my first name and date of birth. On the other side it has her initials - L.M.K. 

My great-grandmother Lulu was 19 when she gave birth to my grandmother, Isabelle. As she was raising two young children World War I was raging...and then the 1918 flu pandemic. She lived through the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression, World War II and Korea, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Civil Rights Movement, the Vietnam War and so much more. 

I didn’t know Lulu very well. She lived several hours away from us and died when I was only eight. But this pendant keeps me connected to her. When I’m holding onto it, I’m keenly aware that my great-grandmother was born in 1897..which means this pendant has been touched by hands that have seen three centuries now...the 19th, 20th, and 21st. 

A couple days ago I was talking with my younger son, who is eight. He asked how old he would be in the year 2100 and at first I laughed. The idea of the year 2100 seems preposterous to me. But then we did the math together and figured out he’ll be 88 in 2100. Which seems not preposterous at all. 

And I wonder if he’ll have this pendant somewhere. And if his 22nd century hands will hold onto this small piece of metal that has been touched by hands that have spanned four centuries. 

The saints who went before us keep us connected to something bigger than ourselves. They remind us that we are not alone...we are not the first people to live through troubling times, or experience excruciating grief or exquisite joy. Through the Spirit we are bound together across time and space and we feel a kindred connection to saints who lived much longer ago than my great-grandma. 

Like the nameless widow in this morning’s story from 1st Kings. Why is it that there are all these wonderful stories in the Bible with women who don’t get names? Oh. I know why. It’s the patriarchy. 

The patriarchy would have made this woman particularly vulnerable. She was a widow, so we know that in a patriarchal society she wouldn’t have had many resources. Plus, she was the mother to a boy who was not yet a man….so she had someone depending on her. And she was living through a great drought and famine. Like Hannah, who we learned about a few weeks ago, she was a desperate woman. She was so poor - the famine was so severe - that she was down to her last measure of flour. She and her son were about to die of starvation. 

Elijah - the great prophet Elijah - comes to her in his own desperation. This part of the book of 1 Kings is a dramatic back-and-forth between God’s prophet, Elijah, and King Ahab “son of Omri [who] did evil in the sight of the Lord more than all who were before him.” In short: he was the worst king ever. And, really, there are a lot of bad, bad kings in this part of the Bible, so that’s saying something. 

Elijah warns Bad King Ahab that a terrible drought is coming and then God sends Elijah into the wilderness where he is dependent on the ravens for his daily bread. He shelters near the Wadi Cherith until the wadi dries up….and then, in his desperation, he is sent by God to Zarephath...a far away place where he would not have expected to find welcome. God tells him that there is a widow there who will help him. 

And so here we have two desperate people that God has brought together in their time of need. They are both, quite literally, destitute and starving. And there is no one coming to save them. No help is found on the horizon. They don’t know where their next meal is coming from or how they will make it through the next day, let alone the next week or month. 

The woman has just enough food left to make one more meal. When Elijah tells her he’s come looking for help, I imagine her laughing at him. “Are you joking? Your God sent you to ME for help? I’ve literally got NOTHING left. Nothing. My plan here is to make one more meal for my son and me, eat it, and then wait to die.” 

Elijah’s brilliant response is to tell her to make the meal….and give it to him. I have to admit, I kind of want to stick my tongue out at Elijah when I read this part of the story. But the author of 1st Kings has set this up for us as a “test of faith” kind of story...the idea being that if the woman is faithful enough to give away her last meal to this stranger, God will reward her by providing her with more than she needs to keep going in the future. 

Would God really have scorned her if she had refused? My gut tells me God is gracious and loving and would have come through for these three desperate people no matter what...but we don’t get to find out because in THIS story the woman does the unthinkable. She does what Elijah says. She makes one last meal….and instead of eating it herself or giving it to her son she gives it to this strange prophet from another place. 

I don’t really know if this is proof of her faith as much as it is proof of her deep desperation. As a mother myself, I can’t imagine giving away my family’s last food to a stranger instead of to my own child. I really can’t. But maybe just maybe if you were so far gone that you really believed nothing you did could even matter any more at all….maybe you’d be willing to try anything because you’d really believe nothing mattered anymore. 

I don’t know. 

There’s a lot I don’t know these days. There’s a lot nobody seems to know these days. 

The desperation, the emptiness of the people in this story doesn’t seem too far away, does it? So many people are really struggling right now. Worried about where their next meal will come from like the people in this ancient story….or just plain worried about the state of the world….uncertainty abounds. The grief that we feel when we pause to feel the immensity of more than one million lives lost around the globe to COVID...it’s truly difficult to comprehend. 

I’ve talked to so many people lately who tell me what a struggle it is just to keep getting up each day and accomplishing basic tasks. 

Our fears about the future and our sense of powerlessness….well, I look at these ancient humans in the Bible and it looks pretty much like a mirror staring back at us. 

Like us, these two people do the only thing they know to do….they turn towards each other for help. We humans are hardwired for connection - which is part of what makes 2020 so incredibly difficult. Here we are in a time where we all desperately NEED connection with each other….but coming together in physical space can be dangerous for our communities. We protect one another by staying apart, which just feels so unnatural. 

Like Elijah and the widow, our instincts are to turn towards one another. So we keep doing it...we call each other for support, we drop notes in the mail to let someone know we’re thinking of them. We organize drive-by birthday parades and figure out creative ways to keep Halloween joyful for the kids. We get together outdoors even when the weather is gross and log onto Zoom again to share virtual space. We are hardwired for this connection….we need each other, especially when our stores are depleted and we are running on empty. 

One of the particularly difficult things about right now mirrors this story: how do people who are ALL running on empty help each other? 

When you’ve got nothing and you turn to your neighbor for support and THEY’VE got nothing, too….what next? 

I have an image in my head of all the beautiful, creative, strong, resilient humans I know with their tanks empty...running towards each other for help...but everyone’s depleted. What now?

Now, my friends, NOW is the time to let God. Now is the time to let God sustain us, comfort us, nurture us, support us, give us hope. When everyone is empty, we can still turn to the One who assures us she will never leave us or forsake us. 

Time and time again in these ancient stories we are shown a God who is faithful to us. Even in the depths of our deepest desperation, our most profound grief, the kind of hopelessness that feels irreversible….God does not leave us abandoned. 

I’ve heard this story preached so many times as a story about the woman’s faith. But, for me, in this moment, the part of this story that stands out to me...the part that I want to grab onto with two hands and hold onto for dear life is the part of the story about God’s faith. 

Our God is faithful. Our God is the God of hope, restoration, and new life. Our God is the one big enough to hold all of our desperation and speak into the storm: “Peace, be still.” Our God is the Spirit we can turn to when we are all just as empty and empty as can be. And we can trust that our faithful God will sustain us. Always and in all ways. 

There are a lot of people who are running on empty right now. If you’re one of them, please know you’re not alone. It is my hope and prayer for you that you will reach out to another person and be honest about your desperation and need...and if that person is also running on fumes, it is my prayer for you both that you will experience the faithfulness of God moving in your life and giving you what you need to make it through this moment, this week, this month, this year. 

Beloveds, this is the time to let God. To allow God’s faithfulness to wash over us and comfort all our broken places...to bind up our pain and anxiety and hopelessness. To give us each day our daily bread and sustain us day by day. 

And as we lift our desperate prayers to God for help, we have something to hold onto. 

We can hold onto these stories. These stories that have been cradled in the hands of so many generations. These stories that still live and breathe and offer hope today. 

Thanks be to God.