A Final Sermon

NB--This is the last sermon I preached at Chalice.  I finished my ministry there on 8 January, a day on which we celebrated Epiphany.

Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
“And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
   are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
   who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’

 Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Travel at night is never easy.  It’s harder to see, and you’ve got to stay awake the whole time if you’re driving.  It can throw off your sense of timing.  But there’s something exciting about traveling at night.  When I went to college in Virginia, I drove back and forth to Pennsylvania, a trip that lasted between seven & eight hours, and I did the trip at all hours of the day and night.  Sometimes I would leave after my exams were done in the late afternoon and drive through the night arriving in the early morning.  In fact, I realized at one point that I had made the trip during every hour of the day. I was no stranger to night travel, though, of course, I was much younger then.  I’m not sure I’d be up to such travel plans now, unless someone else is doing the driving (or flying or whatever mode of conveyance I happen to be on.)

But of course, night travel has a long history.  People learned to navigate by the stars early on in human history.  And to see those stars, one has to be out at night.  So it was for those travelers described in today’s reading from Matthew.  Matthew describes them as “wise men.”  We also know them as the Magi.  And as our opening hymn described them, they’ve become known as kings.  Likely they were astrologers or early astronomers who read the skies and knew it by heart. 

The appearance of a new star would be something worth noting to them.  And, indeed, they found a star at its rising in their heavens, we are told.  Such an event would be portend that something marvelous is going on.  So they set out.  We don’t know much about them and most of what we think we know is from tradition, not scripture.  We don’t know how many there were of them.  Tradition says that there were three of them because of they brought three gifts with them that they offered.  They were probably from Persia or some such place traveling across the sands of the ancient Near East.  We always think of them on camels, but again, that is something we have ascribed to them across history.  We don’t know how they actually traveled.  But one thing we can be pretty sure about is that they did their traveling at night because they had to keep their eyes on that star.

So there they are, trudging across vast landscapes, in search of...well, they’re not exactly sure what or who they’re searching for.  But they have a good idea.  Because of their calculations of where the star is leading them, they’ve figured out that they are seeking a newborn who will grow up to be king of the Jews. 

Their mistake, as we look back, is that they thought the then current king of the Jews, whom we know as Herod, would be interested in this newborn too.  And, of course, Herod was interested; he was very interested.  But not for the same reasons that the travelers were interested.  Herod’s story is another tale for another time, however.

For now, let us focus on these mysterious travelers.  We know they are not Jewish.  They have come from the East, we are told.  And as enigmatically as they showed up, so was their departure.  We only know that after they brought their expensive gifts, they went home, avoiding Jerusalem and Herod, lost to history.

Traveling in the dark can be disorienting…exciting…dangerous.  Landscapes look differently than they do in the day.  Distances seem different.  Instead of moving about in relation to the bright light of the sun, you have to orient yourself according to the starlight, just as those travelers to Jesus did two millennia ago.  Knowing the stars is a different skill from knowing that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.  It’s more work and takes more knowledge.

For the past 13 years or so, we’ve been traveling together in this ministry seemingly in the bright light of day.  But now there’s a change and to some of us it may feel like we’re entering a time of darkness.  We each may feel a bit disoriented because of my impending departure from the church.  It works on both sides, of course; I’m feeling that disorientation too, as I prepare for the major changes coming up in my life.  None of us really knows what the future holds; and we don’t really like that.

But we turn to the stars for guidance and light in the midst of our dark times.  God is in those stars, just as God was in that star that guided the early travelers to the house where Jesus was found.  No, the light isn’t as bright as during the day, but with gratitude we can look for the stars that will guide us during the dark times.

What stars should we look for as we stumble about in the dark?  How will we differentiate the stars that will guide us from all the other stars that are out there?  What stars will guide us and which ones will just shine prettily in the night?

That can be a difficult decision.  That is where prayerful discernment on our part comes in.   We are called to seek out the presence of the Divine in the stars around us.  Surely, just as the star over Bethlehem led those early travelers to Jesus, God’s presence in the metaphorical stars will guide us.

 As we travel through the night, our eyes fixated on the stars all around us, we can hold fast to others who are co-travelers.   The Magi traveled as a group, not alone, and we aren’t called to do this alone either.  Listen to each other and be kind in your dealings.  Continue to form community and recognize its importance for your searching for the star that will guide you.

For the past 13 plus years, it has been my pleasure to travel with you.  But after today, we will be following different stars in the night sky.  Separating, after such a trek together isn’t easy.  We’re used to each others’ ways and even, dare I say it, the quirks that we might have.  There may be grief because things won’t be the same.  We have to readjust to a new star,   But whatever route we travel, we need not fear.  For God is with us, even before us, shining in the night sky, constantly beckoning us to new life.

Christmas

I didn't preach on Christmas Sunday but rather showed a marvelous video of the Christmas Nativity Story as told by children.  Here's the link to the video:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zduwusyip8M

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

The Straight Path

John 1:6-8, 19-28

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, "Who are you?" He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, "I am not the Messiah." And they asked him, "What then? Are you Elijah?" He said, "I am not." "Are you the prophet?" He answered, "No." Then they said to him, "Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?" He said,
  "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,
  'Make straight the way of the Lord,'"
    as the prophet Isaiah said.

Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, "Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?" John answered them, "I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal." This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

The Bible is filled with all sorts of interesting characters.  From David the king to Rahab the prostitute, from Isaiah the prophet to Paul the self-appointed apostle, there are all sorts of folks in scripture who can edify, enrage, and even entertain you.  We heard about one of those special characters in today’s gospel reading:  John the Baptist.

Now my Baptist friends are probably quick to claim him as one of their own, but John really belongs to all of us.  But sometimes I wonder if we really want him.  From the other gospels, we know that he was an odd character:  rough clothing, strange diet.  He lived out in the wilds and one can just imagine him with disheveled, unkempt hair and a big, bushy beard.

But he knew how to draw a crowd and indeed he was drawing crowds.  People were flocking to John out there in the wilderness to get baptized; to get themselves cleansed and made right.  And John was willingly doing it.  But you know how someone who is successful independent of the authorities can be viewed by those same authorities:  they’re distrustful and want to know why people are listening to him and not them. 

It was the same with John.  The religious authorities of the day were scratching their heads about John.  Who is he and why is he so popular? It made those authorities sit up and take notice and get more than just a little worried.  In fact, as we know, poor John was imprisoned and executed by Herod in not too much time after today’s scripture took place.  It can be a dangerous thing when you make the authorities jealous.

John knows who he is though. He’s asked if he is the Messiah, the one who’s come to save Israel and John says, “Nope, not me.”  They ask him if he’s Elijah, since Elijah was taken up into heaven and he says the same thing.  Then they ask if he’s the prophet and again John tells them no. 

“Well, if you’re not any of those, who the heck are you then?” they wanted to know.  They were looking for credentials and the proper authority behind John’s popularity.  “If you’re not the Messiah, Elijah, or the prophet, what right do you have to do what you’re doing?”  And that’s when John quotes scripture and tells them exactly what’s going on.  Actually, John changes the scripture just a little to suit his purpose.  But that’s neither here nor there.  John in all his burly, wooly, earthiness let’s them know that he is making the way straight.  What way?  Well, the way for the Lord. 

John is out in the wilderness making the path straight.  Now mind you the wilderness to them is nothing like our wildernesses.  We think of rugged mountainsides covered in trees when we think of wilderness areas.  But to John and the others of his time, the wilderness is where he spent all his time.  It was the desert:  dry, barren, rocky.  Travel is hard there and one doesn’t venture out into it without a little trepidation. 

But John’s job, out there in the wilderness, is to make a straight path.  But John, of course, isn’t talking about a physical path.  He’s preparing the people for the coming of the Messiah.  But the Messiah isn’t going to be the one that everyone expects.  They’re waiting for a political savior;  a mighty, army man who will free Israel once and for all.  But John knows, and maybe the only one who knows at this point, what sort of Messiah is coming.

John is making the way straight through the baptisms he is doing.  He is preparing the masses of people who are coming to him by preaching about repentance and turning to God.  He’s making the way plain not necessarily so God can easily get to the people.  God doesn’t really need that.  No, John is making the way straight for the people to get to God.

The straight path that John is laying out is one for the people of Israel.  He preached about repentance and turning to God, which is evidently what the people needed to hear at that time.

John the Baptist was a particular individual at a particular point in history.  But there are John the Baptists all around us.  They are the ones who are making the way plain for us to reach out to God.  They’ve created a path for us to travel that leads to God.  Take a moment to stop and think about those people who have created paths for you to find God.  Perhaps it was a Sunday School teacher from your childhood.  Maybe it was a parent, grandparent, or other relative.  Perhaps it was even a preacher, but that’s almost too shocking to be true!

We all have John the Baptists in our past and perhaps some even in our present.  They are the ones who are working to create a path that is straight from you to God.  They are removing obstacles and filling in holes so your way is easy and direct.  Maybe you, like those Pharisees from the first century, don’t recognize the importance of the people who have done all this.  You might think that the way is easy because it just is.  But stop and recognize the work that has gone into getting you to the point you’re at today.  Recognize all that has gone into making you the faithful person that you are.  It may have been a lifelong process or a journey of a few years.

Whoever those John the Baptists in your life are, remember this Advent to give thanks for them.  You may not be able to thank them directly for any number of reasons, but raise your gratitude to God for all those people in your life who have made the path straight and plain for you.

Keeping Awake

Mark 13:24-37

"But in those days, after that suffering,
   the sun will be darkened,
   and the moon will not give its light,
and the stars will be falling 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. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

"From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

"But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake."

Well, we’ve survived another “Black Friday.”  I don’t know if any of you were among those who waited eagerly for doors to open at midnight or earlier on Thursday, or just avoided the whole rush of consumerism that now annually follows Thanksgiving.  And so the starter’s pistol has gone off and we’ve begun the mad rush to the 25th of December.  We’re all familiar with what has become the cultural celebration of this season--the parties, the celebrations, the search for gifts, the cards, the decorating, all of it.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not separating myself out from this culture and looking down my nose at all the preparations.  Even though I sat out “Black Friday,” I’m as much a participant in our cultural orgy of decorations and holiday festivities. 

Before we wrap ourselves up in red and green ribbon though, let’s stop and look around us at the blues and purples that adorn our worship space.  Those blues and purples of Advent which indicate that it’s that time of year that begins the church year and leads us up to Bethlehem.  Blues and purples to indicate penitence and repentance.  Blues and purples to lead us into a time of retrospection and anticipation. 

Here at the start of Advent the lectionary scriptures don’t have us facing Bethlehem or Christmas lights or any of the cultural trappings of the season.  No, we are facing the end of the world.  Well, and a Merry Christmas to you.

As Matthew Skinner, professor of New Testament at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota wrote, “It's time for Christians to declare that God's previous incursion into human affairs through Jesus Christ is not the end of the story but the foundation for a future hope of God bringing ultimate promises to fruition.”  (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/matthew-l-skinner/mark-13-danger-of-advent_b_1106409.html)  We are all about anticipation right now, but not anticipating the Christmas event necessarily and certainly not about anticipating what we’ll find underneath the tree.   But we are anticipating a time when God’s realm is made real here on earth.  That’s a mighty big thing to be watching for.

Which could be why our Gospel reading this morning ends with the warning to “keep awake.”  Jesus has just compared the inbreaking of God’s realm to a home owner returning from a journey.  The doorkeeper needs to be awake and alert to let the master back into the house. 

Did you notice that at the very start of our reading from Mark this morning that Jesus used the phrase, “after that suffering?”  What suffering is he talking about?  The suffering he is referring to is the desolation that he had just described in the verses preceding, including the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem.  Jesus is separating out his predictions of the end of time from this desolation.

To the early hearers of Mark’s gospel, the fumes of the destruction of Jerusalem in the siege that destroyed the city and the Temple in the year 70 would still be in their nostrils.  They would be wondering, those who were Christian, why Jesus didn’t return to take control and save the city.  They would be wondering why God didn’t intervene.

But Jesus had already told them, that, in spite of what the Left Behind series of books say, God isn’t returning in the midst of war and desolation.  God comes triumphant to be sure, but not in the midst of war.  Jesus has just told us this in the passage from Mark.

To those early Christians, the destruction of Jerusalem was an important and potent event.  And Jesus is moving away from that power; an earthly power to be sure, but not God’s power.

In the verses leading up to Jesus’ words today, he warns of false messiahs and false prophets.  Certainly today we have signs that we could say portend the end of the world:  Iran’s nuclear activity, Osama bin Laden’s death, the collapse of the world’s economy, the Occupy movement.  All these things and more could certainly be seen as signs and portends about the end of time and the incoming of God’s realm. 

But again, we’re looking at it through human eyes; not through God’s eyes.  These are events and activities of human power, not God’s power.  They are worrisome or inspiring or hope-producing to be sure, but they don’t necessarily predict the end of time, a time when God’s realm truly comes in in all its fullness.

We, however, as Christians in the 21st century are not about passively waiting around for all this to happen.  We have Advent to remind us to remain alert and awake, waiting for God’s inbreaking.  And it’s a reminder that we are to carry throughout the whole year.  Advent is indeed a busy time for us, but it’s not the busyness of putting up trees and stringing lights and finding new holiday clothes.  Advent, if we commemorate it properly, is about watching and waiting actively.  We watch and wait for when God’s realm finally breaks through and true justice and true peace reign. 

What is active waiting?  I remember as a kid going with my younger brother to a matinee of a play or movie or some event aimed at us kids.  Mom was picking us up at the end of the event.  As we waited outside, the crowd of kids grew smaller and smaller until there were only a handful of us left waiting.  I remember very clearly peering down the street, watching, waiting for that blue Plymouth to come into view.  And I recall the relief which came over me as it arrived.

Our waiting and watching is similar...we’re peering down the street in anxious anticipation of God’s blue Plymouth to turn the corner and arrive to announce that God’s realm is here, finally here, in all its fullness, with lights flashing and horns blaring.

I’m grateful that Advent occurs in our hemisphere during the time when the light lessens until we reach the darkest day of the year.  As is the tradition, we light candles against the darkness; tiny, feeble, piteous lights against the huge darkness.  But those tiny lights, lit as they are in defiance of the night, signal our hope; a hope that lasts through the darkest darkness that can come at us and signals that we are indeed watching and waiting.

This Advent, get in the practice of waiting and watching.  The time is coming.  We need to be prepared and awake.

Wilderness Water

Exodus 17:1-7

From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarrelled with Moses, and said, "Give us water to drink." Moses said to them, "Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?" But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, "Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?" So Moses cried out to the Lord, "What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me." The Lord said to Moses, "Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink." Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarrelled and tested the Lord, saying, "Is the Lord among us or not?"

The wilderness can be an interesting place; an interesting, terrifying, uncomfortable place.  The wilderness is where we wander, sometimes for much longer than we would like.  But the wilderness is where we meet God and receive God’s care.  Let’s look at the experience of the ancient Israelites in the wilderness.

If you’ve been following the lectionary, you’ll know that they have just left Egypt where they had been enslaved for generations.  Through Moses, God intervened to bring liberation to the people, with a series of miracles and supernatural events culminating in the parting of the Red Sea.  The Egyptians gave up at that point when their army was consumed by the sea.  The Israelites were free and were making their way to the land which had been promised to their ancestors all the way back to Abraham. 

But there was an in-between time; a time after they had secured their release from Egypt before they reached the land.  Of course, this in-between time was lengthened but that’s tale from another reading for another day.  But when we find the Israelites in today’s reading they still had the memory of being servants in Egypt and were looking forward to claiming their land.  Yet to come was the giving of the law on Mount Sinai and their disobedience that lengthened their wilderness experience to forty years.

So this ragtag band of former slaves is in the midst of the wilderness.  There are many types of wilderness of course, but the one that the Israelites found themselves in was a hot, dry, arid place.  It seems quite reasonable and natural that they would be complaining about a lack of water.  Water is vital stuff.  It gives life and, without it, life can ebb away.  And they were in a place in which there was a decided lack of water.

Just prior to this reading, the Israelites had complained about a lack of food which was taken care of by the giving of manna or bread from heaven.  So there is a track record of God’s care here.  God hears the problems that are being faced and does something about them.

Moses, on the other hand, is less caring, it seems.  He hears grumbling among the people and frets and worries because of it.  Perhaps he is afraid of his leadership position being threatened.  Perhaps he doesn’t understand the caring that God can provide and worries about approaching God with this latest, freshest complaint of the people.  In any case, Moses comes off as a bit petulant and fretful. 

God, as we know, provides.  The people are thirsty so God provides water, and from a rather unexpected source: a rock.  Moses, using the same staff with which he struck the Nile and turned it to blood and the same staff that he held up to part the Red Sea, hit the rock with his staff and voila, water for all.  The same staff that had earlier taken away life-giving water in the Nile, now provides it for the Israelites in the midst of the wilderness.

Chalice could be said to be in its own wilderness experience at the moment.  We don’t know what the future holds; there’s a lot of uncertainty and we are wandering, wondering if we’ll find some sort of promised land or we’ll die from thirst in the midst of the wilderness.  It’s not a particularly pleasant place to be, certainly. 

But here we are.  Thirsty, hot, and wondering if we’ve been abandoned.  Wasn’t life better back in Egypt, even if we were slaves?  At least there was some security, some sense of well-being, whatever the price. God, where is our water that will refresh us and provide us with the energy to go on?

The wilderness is a place of God’s caring.  God cares about God’s people and shows it most in the wilderness.  God provides manna from above and water from a rock.  Unexpected but still exactly what was needed at that time. 

The Hebrew people had to change who they were through their wilderness experience though.  Their identities as servants of the Egyptian people had to change.  Though they might not have known who they were becoming, they had to change there in the wilderness.  It was inevitable.

The change couldn’t have happened though without God’s care; without water from a rock.  They likely would have died of thirst in the wilderness without the divine care that got them through.  But God took care of that part of their needs and they survived and were able to go on to receive the law that was to become the bedrock of their faith.

God is with us, right here, right now, in our wilderness experience.  If we are thirsty, God will provide, I believe.  We may not expect what is to come and we don’t know how we’ll end up in our identity.  But God’s care for us will be available to us in the wilderness.

Sowing Seeds

Sower by Vincent Van Gogh

The Sower by Lee Lawrie

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

While I was growing up in the country back in rural Northeastern Pennsylvania, we had large yards around our home;  front, back and sides.  In the big back yard, we always had a garden.  Actually there were several gardens; some with flowers some with vegetables.  I remember clearly planting the vegetable gardens:  corn, and zucchini, and lettuce, and beans, and tomatoes, and so on.

Most of it, of course, was planted from seeds in the spring. And what I remember was that we would create long furrows in the dirt.  And then, according to the directions on the seed packets we would put one or two seeds every few inches.  As spring wore on to summer and the chance of frost was but a memory, the seeds would sprout and small plants would appear in the soil.  We would weed to eliminate any competition for the rain and nutrients in the soil. With enough care and tending, by the end of summer there would be fresh corn, zucchini, lettuce, beans, and tomatoes. 

Of course, all this was done by hand; we dug up the garden and hoed the furrows and placed the seed in by ourselves; a far cry, I’m certain, from the practices of modern agribusinesses.  Our little plot was nothing compared to the acres of farming that requires tractors and other machinery to do what we did by hand.  But the basis of the growing process remains the same:  create rows of holes in the dirt where seeds can go.

How different from the method that Jesus describes in his parable of the seeds.  Then,  the seeds were scattered by a sower who flings the seeds across a field, much like the statue of The Sower by Lee Lawrie which sits atop the tower of the Nebraskan capitol building or the painting by Van Gogh.  No straight rows, no holes dug.  Just hurl the seeds and wait. 

And it was that waiting period that Jesus talked about.  Some seeds get flung on a pathway with soil too compacted for any roots to take hold so they become bird feed.  Some get flung in rocky soil, where there isn’t enough room for their roots and the sun scorches them.  Some are thrown among thorns and weeds which allow the plant to grow a little but soon crowd out the young plant and choke it off.  Finally, some of the seeds get tossed onto good soil: no rocks, no weeds or thorns and soil loose enough for roots to burrow down into the nutrient rich earth.  These seeds of course are the ones that provide for the sower and yield the grain or vegetables that they were meant to produce.

Now why would Jesus talk in parables, which can be hard to understand and difficult to comprehend?  Their meaning is as difficult to hold onto as grasping a fistful of sand.  It seeps out of every opening in your hand until you are left with a few grains of sand and air. 

Remember that Jesus was outside teaching this to the crowds.  Early on, such as at the time of the sermon on the mount, Jesus was direct, as he was with his disciples in private.  But why this switch to confounding parables at this point.

Possibly, Jesus’ renown was gaining attention in many quarters, including those arenas that would be a danger to his life, as we know happened.  In large crowds, there could be followers and supporters but there could also be spies for the religious authorities and even the empire.  In the NRSV Bible passage which we heard this morning, Jesus begins and ends this parable by saying “listen” a clue perhaps to his followers that they’re going to have to do some of the work here to understand what’s going on.  “Let anyone with ears, listen.”

Jesus does, later in chapter 13, go on to explain this parable to his disciples who come out and ask him why he’s talking so confusingly in these parables.  In his explanation, which we also heard this morning, he focuses on the seeds and what they do, where they land and how they are like us hearing the Word and reacting in various ways.  It’s not about judging what kind of soil others have landed in, though the temptation to do could be strong.  It’s about looking at the soil around you and where you yourself have landed that counts.  To the tiny Christian community that Matthew was addressing, surely these words would have been comforting.  In the face of opposition by the Jewish authorities and the great Roman Empire, surely they, those early Christians, must have wondered if they were going to survive, both individually and collectively.  Finding yourself in good soil gives hope.  And we, unlike seeds, have some say over what sort of soil we find ourselves in.

But what if it’s not all about us?  What if the parable is about the sower, who, in this case, is God?  As Barbara Brown Taylor says, “What if it is not about our own successes and failures and birds and rocks and thorns but about the extravagance of a sower who flings seed everywhere, wastes it with holy abandon…confident that there is enough seed to go around, that there is plenty, and that when the harvest comes in at last it will fill every barn in the neighborhood to the rafters?"  (from UCC Samuel website:  http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/july-10-2011-fifteenth-sunday.html) 

Where does that leave us with this parable, if we focus on God the extravagant sower rather than on us and on the soil in which we find ourselves?  That shift in focus, turns our attention to God’s grace and love which God flings about as if it weren’t the most precious thing in the world, even though it is.  God’s seeds are indeed God’s grace and love which the world, whether it realizes it or not, desperately needs.  God is profligate in distributing these seeds, even to us.

Of course, shifting the focus back to us for a moment, we can do what we please with these seeds of love and grace; we can hold onto them tightly and not let them out of our grasp or we can be find ways to pass them on, realizing that this God of ours is going to fling more seeds our way.  In a sense we become the soil, not the seed.  We can try to hold back the love and grace that God hurls about but if we are the good soil, we’ll allow it to take root and grow within us and then pass it on as a grown plant produces seed for the next generation of its species.

God will continue to fling the seeds of grace and love all over the world.  It’s up to us what happens to the seeds that come our way.  What will you do with your seeds?

We all are curious about our beginnings.  We want to know where we came from;  who we are; whose we are; what went on before we our own memories kick in.  I’ve realized, since my mother’s death this spring, that since she was the last of her generation to die, carrying on the family stories now lies in my generation.  If we don’t tell them, they will be lost.

So it was with some interest that, in doing a major cleaning job in our apartment, Allen ran across my baby book, which my mom filled in after I was born.  Now I have to admit that my mother was fairly spotty about filling it in.  There are lots of blanks, holes in my story that I’ll never know.  But then there is other information that is nice to learn or relearn.  I know, for instance, that I was 7 pounds, 12 ounces and 22 inches at birth.

There’s a list of the first people who came to visit me though I don’t know what day...maybe on my birth day since I was born very early in the morning.  I know that when I was nine weeks old, I went to church for the first time.  Though who took me, what the minister and other people said remains a mystery.  I don’t know; maybe mom was trying to shield me from some unkind remarks.  And maybe I got there on my own.  I doubt it, looking at this picture taken around that time.  It doesn’t look like I did much at all on my own, precocious though I may have been.

So it is with each of us.  We are curious about our beginnings because beginnings are important.  And as true as this is for us individually and personally,  it’s all the more-so for us collectively.  Thus it is that there are a wide variety of creation stories to match the various cultures out of which they spring.

Some scholars think that the creation narrative we heard today sprang up during the time of the Babylonian exile.  The Jewish oppressors, the Babylonians, had violent, gory creation myths.  Our narrative, which each of us knows so well, may have been an antidote to those Babylonian creations myths.  Instead of violence, we have a creative God who brings into being creation; much more suitable to tell young Jewish children living far from their homeland.

The Hebrew word for “created” is bara.  The very first words of our Bible are b’ray-o-sheet bara elohim….”  (בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים) “At the very start, God created…”  Throughout the Hebrew Bible, the word bara is used only in conjunction with God.  God creates;  humans make or form, but they don’t bara.  That is left to God.  And on these six days of creation, God certainly did bara.  God brought into being all of creation:  the universe, the stars, the earth, all the creatures that inhabit it, including, of course, we human creatures.  God’s activity is one of creative energy that causes all of everything to come into being; certainly not something that we humans can do. 

And God saved us for last.  God created humans last and, in doing so, did so in God’s own image.  Our curiosity about our beginnings is satisfied, to a point.  It’s a bit like my baby book;  there is some important information, but still there are blanks.  What does it mean to be created in God’s image?  And what does “dominion” actually mean?  These are important and serious questions that we are left to ponder on our own.  I am, though, regularly encouraged, as I stop for a nap, to remember that God needed rest after all the work of creation that God did!

If we are in God’s image, how is it we’re like God and how are we unlike God?  An image is only a partial capture of the thing it is imaging, after all.  I do appreciate that in this account of creation (there’s a second account that follows this one), God’s image includes both genders; God created male and female at the same time.  That’s why I think gender-neutral language about God is so important:  God is at once both genders, without a single gender.  It’s a bit mind-blowing, but one that leaves us with no good pronoun for God.  “God” will simply have to suffice when talking about God.

When God gives us dominion over all the earth, God did a dangerous thing, the effects of which we see in particular over the past few decades.  We’ve taken dominion to mean that we can do anything we want with creation.  According to Merriam-Webster dictionary, dominion means to have supreme authority over something.  Certainly, in giving humanity dominion God did not mean for us to recklessly have our way with the world, stripping it of its resources in a few short generations.  Dominion, I believe, implies responsibility as much as it means control. 

But have we been responsible?  Have we exercised our dominion in an accountable way over the past decades?  I think perhaps not.  And this lack of responsibility has led to all sorts of difficulties in our world, most recently evidenced by natural disasters that many scientists are claiming are the result of global warming.  Global warming, of course, is a result of dominion run rampant.  We are paying for the results of years of our overuse of the planet on which we find ourselves.

If we are created in God’s image, it’s up to us to exercise our dominion with responsibility.  We aren’t Babylonians with a violent creation story; our creation myth involves a loving God who created everything and put us in charge, handing us the keys, as it were.  As the image of God, we should use caution as we become the dominate force in the world around us. 

Dominion and image are only two aspects of our communal creation story that we should pay attention to.  There is a variety of riches to be mined from these verses at the very beginning of our scriptures.  These stories remind us of the vastness of the universe which we are a part of and our part in it.

Creation stories are important: our creation story, my creation story, your creation story.  Those stories tell us who we are.  We recognize where we came from.  And they tell us who we belong to.  We learn that we are made in God’s image, both collectively and individually.   And as such, we need to recognize the great responsibility that we carry because of that.  All of us are created in God’s image.  Let’s live like it.