“Abundant Life: Compassion”

Mark 10:17-31

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

October 13, 2024

Jesus is repeating himself. 

“It’s really hard for rich people to enter God’s realm.” 

Blank stares all around. 

“It’s really hard for rich people to enter God’s realm.” 

Maybe some more blank stares. 

“It would actually be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.” 

Horrified faces. 

I guess he finally hammered it home with the visual of a camel going through the eye of a needle. It is, in fact, a memorable object lesson. 

Despite Jesus’s clear repetitions and careful explications, we Jesus-followers have still managed to mangle this passage over the centuries. 

The problem, I think, comes down to a couple of key phrases. Phrases that - let’s be real - we need to get our heads around. Because they don’t just come up in this story - they come up over and over again in Jesus’s teachings. 

First: eternal life. In Greek “aionios zoe.” When I say “eternal life” what do you think most people think of first? ________ We usually think of this as being about what happens after we die. Namely, that we go on in some way after our bodies die. And it’s not that this would be wrong - it’s just that it’s not a complete definition. Zoe means life. That’s clear. But the Greek aionios doesn’t have a parallel in English. Yes, it can be about a quantity of time, going on forever. But it’s just as much about the quality of time. It’s not only about life after death, it’s also about the quality of our lives here and now. 

Second: the kingdom of God. I usually call this the Realm of God. Again, I think a lot of people think about the afterlife, specifically heaven; the good place in the sky where we’re finally united with God. But there’s little evidence to suggest this is about the afterlife at all. Instead, Jesus teaches about God’s Realm as if it’s something we could reach here and now. A way of being fully aware of God’s presence with us - and our presence in God. He gives the sense that it’s here among us, if we could all get on the same page and grasp it together. 

Misunderstanding these two small phrases has huge implications. Because this text becomes something it’s not. Biblical scholar N.T. Wright explains that Jesus’s contemporaries would have had an understanding of two ages - the here and now and the age to come. This conversation is about the age to come - aionios zoe - meaning the “new world that God is going to usher in, the new era of justice, peace and freedom God has promised.” [1] The rich man is asking how he can ensure he gets to be a part of this new world. Wright says:

Among the various results of this misreading has been the earnest attempt to make all the material in Jesus’s public career refer somehow to a supposed invitation to “go to heaven” rather than to the present challenge of the kingdom coming on earth as in heaven. [1] 

All that heavy emphasis that some parts of Christianity place on getting into heaven? It turns out Jesus didn’t talk about that much at all. He was much more concerned with what’s happening here on earth. 

There’s a beautiful tiny phase in this passage that’s often overlooked. When the rich man asks Jesus what he must do to ensure he’s a part of God’s new era of justice, peace, and liberation, it’s clear he’s been on a good path. He’s been keeping all the major commandments. But Jesus wants to clarify that living fully into God’s vision of abundant life is about more than just checking off boxes. Living in God’s Realm is about a total transformation - a willingness to make ourselves vulnerable and live in ways that are supremely counter-cultural. I think Jesus knows this is impossible before he even says it. But his delivery doesn’t feel snarky or even like a challenge. Instead, the text says that before he tells the man to sell all he owns and give it to the poor, Jesus looks at him and loves him. 

It’s such a beautiful moment of compassion. Jesus looks at the guy and loves him. 

In that loving gaze - I see so clearly how Jesus stands between the here and now and the age to come. He has one foot firmly planted in the human experience. Jesus knows before the words leave his mouth that this rich man isn’t planning to sell everything he owns and give it all to the poor. He knows that we humans struggle to live faithfully, to trust in God’s abundance, to stay focused on the ways we are bound together. He has one foot in there here and now. 

And at the same time, he’s got his other foot firmly planted in God’s Realm. He can see God’s vision of justice, peace, and liberation. He can envision a world where the first are last and the last are first. He can even see how we get there. Jesus is between both worlds and the immensity of that is right there on his face for everyone to see. 

From that vantage point between worlds, Jesus could see the tensions we feel. How much we want to do the right thing and how hard it is. How deeply we feel compassion for others and how we often aren’t sure how to help. How hard it is to trust in abundance when possibilities feel limited. How we want to hide from our own vulnerabilities and, in doing so, miss out on the fullness of life that comes with knowing God is with the last, least, and lost. 

When we try to sit down and make a plan like the man in this story, we often find ourselves tangled up in knots. But Jesus reminds us that living in God’s Realm isn’t something we can just make happen all on our own. It’s something we co-create with the Spirit. God casts a vision and we make choices each and every day to step into it. The path isn’t linear - in fact, so much of what we’re asked to do as we fumble our way toward God’s Realm seems impossible and scary. 

When we start to feel off-kilter and unsure, I think we can plant ourselves in the compassionate gaze of Christ. He looks at us in all our confusion and wanting-to-do-rightness and loves us. If we can allow ourselves to stay in his sights, we have a much better chance of seeing glimpses of God’s Realm in the here and now. 

Speaking of glimpsing God’s Realm in the here and now: I want to end with a story I heard last weekend at the Kansas-Oklahoma Conference annual gathering. The Rev. Dr. Courtney Stange-Treager from the UCC Cornerstone Fund was one of the guest speakers who shared about generosity. Courtney shared with us that one of her favorite phrases when discussing generosity is “God Math.” Things that don’t seem like they would add up suddenly do. Fears about scarcity are banished and God’s abundance becomes clear. It all adds up, even though we didn’t think it would. 

Courtney told a powerful story about God Math in action. Back in 2017, nine people got stuck in a riptide at Panama City Beach in Florida.[2] It all started when two young boys got pushed too far out into the water. Their parents went in after them but also got sucked out. Other family members joined in the attempt to rescue them. Eventually, people started forming a rescue chain and a total of 70 or so people made one giant human chain reaching out into the ocean to save these strangers. 

The people that jumped into action didn’t have time to make a plan. There were no committee meetings or careful calculations. No mission statement or benchmarks. They were simply moved by compassion for these strangers in need and jumped into the fray. Together, they did what none of them could have done alone. It took all of them, working together to each do their small part to save this family. That’s why Courtney called this an example of God Math: people moved to jump up, jump in, hold hands, and all work together for good. We may not always have a plan. In fact, if we did sit down and make a plan, we might talk ourselves out of it. But we trust in a vision of something larger than ourselves, and we are moved by a sense of deep compassion for those in need, and we do together what we couldn’t do ourselves. 

It’s a little like what Jesus says in this story, “With God, all things are possible.” 

Held tight in Christ’s compassionate gaze, may we all live with one foot in the world as it is and another as it could be, trusting in God’s vision of a more just world for all. 

NOTES

[1] Wright, N.T. How God Became King: The Forgotten Story of the Gospels. 44-45. 

[2] https://www.cnn.com/2017/07/11/us/human-chain-florida-beach-trnd/index.html 

“Be Curious: Wonder”

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

October 6, 2024

Earlier this week, I was making chicken pot pie for dinner and discovered I had a bit too much filling for my pie but not quite enough to make a whole second pie. So I looked at all this creamy, brothy goodness and decided I could use it to make some chicken noodle soup. I cracked an egg, threw in a dash of milk, salt and pepper, then flour. Stirred with a fork until it looked about right, squished it out onto a floured cutting board and used a pizza cutter to quickly slice it into noodles. 

Anytime I make noodles or pasta from scratch, I have the same thought: how can something with only two or three ingredients create something so delicious? It feels like an absolute miracle. Just a few basic ingredients - flour, eggs, some liquid - suddenly you’ve got thick noodles or fettuccine, ravioli or dumplings. Throw them in soup or serve with some quality olive oil. Dump on a can of tomatoes or toss in a handful of spinach and some chickpeas. An absolute wonder, right? 

There are so many parts of our daily lives that are absolutely wondrous. And we rarely pause to notice. Last week in adult Sunday School, Dan and Courtney came to talk with us about the Jewish high holy days. One of the things Dan mentioned is how the Jewish tradition has dailly blessings for all kinds of everyday things. Blessings for waking up, blessings for changing a diaper, blessings before eating your veggies. Maybe there’s even a blessing for making noodles? If there isn’t, there should be. Some strains of Christianity have this, too. There’s a 19th century collection of Celtic Christian blessings called the Carmina Gaedelica and it’s useful if you ever want to bless the kindling of fire, milking a cow, shearing sheep, or beginning an ocean voyage. 

These blessings, passed down through the generations, help us remember to pause and notice the holy in our everyday lives. Children memorize them and see their parents recite them - and, in this way, they are taught to value the practice of wonder. 

It turns out that practicing wonder is one of the most important things a child needs for their spiritual development. More than memorizing Bible verses, more than being lectured about right and wrong, even (dare I say it?) more than going to church on Sunday. What children need if they’re to grow into adults with a strong spiritual foundation is space and encouragement to cultivate a sense of wonder. Incidentally, this is one of the reasons we created the Sacred Space for elementary-aged kids in our balcony. There’s space up there for the kids to sit in a pew and listen to the service if they’d like. But there are also quiet toys to fidget with, paper for drawing and coloring, quiet nooks where they can read books, and comfy pillows where they can simply rest and let their minds wander. In a world where we are all often overscheduled, it’s important to have spaces where we can slow down, lean into stillness (and even boredom!), ponder, daydream, and just BE. Worship can be that for children (and adults, too) if we create a space that encourages this type of holy wonder. 

Children, of course, are wired for holy wonder. And they don’t even need adults to begin their spiritual development. I grew up in a family that was not religious and we did not go to church until I was a teenager. Nevertheless, I can remember having long talks with God and an active spiritual life as a young child. The world was full of wonder and I had a strong sense that God accompanied me each day. I didn’t need an adult to teach me - I just needed space to allow the Holy to do her work. 

As we get older, we sometimes lose the gift of wonder. We might rush around and forget to make space for it. And when we find ourselves bored, we grumble instead of welcoming an opportunity for curiosity.

The rituals and traditions of the church can be a great place for wonder to grab and surprise us - if we allow it. For example, when we sing together: even if you don’t sing, you have an opportunity to listen with curiosity, or to thumb throught the hymnal and look for other songs that catch your eye. I’ll never be offended if your mind wanders during the sermon - perhaps the Spirit is planning to speak to you directly and you need tune in. And when we gather for communion - goodness, there’s so much time when you may be impatiently waiting to get on to the next thing. OR you could approach the sacrament with a sense of wonder, inviting holy curiosity, and making space for the Spirit to surprise you. 

The elements we use for communion are filled in wonder, in fact. Like the egg noodles I made earlier this week, the communion elements feel like everyday miracles to me. Bread: it’s just grain, liquid, and some yeast. Juice is, of course, simply grapes and water. And the wine Jesus used it his time would have been created by allowing the invisible world work it’s magic. 

It turns out that both bread and wine are fermented. And although we are mostly used to buying our bread and wine, the ancient practices would have been quite different, of course. One of the amazing things about fermentation is that it can happen even without adding yeast or another kind of starter. This process is called wild fermentation and it works for bread, veggies, yogurt, beer, and wine. Naturally-ocurring bacteria and yeast can be given space to do their thing and the results can be delightful. Each batch of food or beverage created will have its own unique flavors and depth. 

We have no way of knowing how humans began fermenting our foods because it happened so very long ago. Historians suspect that mead might have been discovered when someone saw a bit of honey and water bubbling inside a tree stump. Yogurt may have been a happy accident when travelers packed up milk in an animal bladder of some kind and - surprise! - it wasn’t milk anymore when they got to their destination. No one’s quite sure if bread or beer came first - maybe we were soaking grains to make bread and left them too long and beer was brewed. Or perhaps we needed a use for our leftover bread and threw it into some water and the microbes surprised us. [1] 

However it all happened, fermentation is a beautiful dance of creativity and relationship. It honors the relationship between humans and the planet: fermentation helps us reduce waste, conserve resources, and co-exist safety with the invisible world of microbes all around us. We know it also helps us keep the microbes in our bodies healthy and flourishing. Fermentation helps preserve food because it crowds out the bad germs and makes room for the good guys to grow.

Fermentation is also a beautiful testament to the relationships we share with one another. For millennia we’ve taught these methods of preservation to our children and our neighbors. Humans have gotten together to experiment, create, and ferment big batches for parties and celebrations. And we’ve gathered over tables heaping with wine and, beer, kim chi and miso, sauerkraut and pickles, injirah and labneh to laugh with friends and family. 

Over the millennia, we’ve improved our skills. Artisans know that sometimes the best way to ferment is by using a hybrid method - catching those wild microbes AND carefully introducing a curated starter to finish the job. If you grab a bunch of grapes, they will eventually ferment on their own because the fruit already has microbes on it. That’s the wild fermentation. But it turns out that this process will only develop a wine with a very low alcohol content. If you want to make it into a stronger wine, you can finish the job by introducing a starter later in the process. This is called sequential fermentation and it’s a marriage of both methods. A vintner who uses sequential fermentation will get the local flavor, surprising complexity, and variety from the wild method. But they’ll also create consistency and depth by finishing with a starter. [2] 

Maybe humans are a bit like this, too. Even if we never stepped foot in a church as a child - the wild Spirit would still find her way to us on the breeze. She would work slowly and relentlessly in our lives - breathing new awareness, possibility, and wonder into each of us. We would all have our own local flavor - our own faith stories, our own carefully fermented wisdom and wonder. 

But when we come together in a community to wonder together - well, that may take the alchemy to another level. In church, we introduce the starters in our faith - scripture, shared prayers, practices and rituals. We allow the hymns and ancient stories and practices to take hold and move in our lives. Our faith may acquire a new depth and grow stronger over time.

Whether we are the product of wild fermentation or an ancient starter or some combination of the two - we are all invited into the wonder of a fermented faith. As we eat this bread and drink this cup, may we remain ever mindful of the wonders of the world around us and our place within the miracle of creation. 

May it be so. 

NOTES

[1] I learned the theories in this paragraph from Our Fermented Lives: A History by Julia Skinner

[2] https://winemakermag.com/article/758-wild-yeast-the-pros-and-cons-of-spontaneous-fermentation