Sermon: Create in me a clean and simple heart (Ash Wednesday 2020)

Ash Wednesday

February 26, 2020

Psalm 51

            “Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a right spirit within me! Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with your free spirit.” [LWB Setting 1]

            You may recognize that tune and of course those words from LBW Setting 1. That’s the hymnal I grew up with, and those are the words and tune that are written on my heart and always will be. We sing that each week here, though usually with a different tune. It is the standard offertory hymn, generally sung as the offering is brought forward and we prepare for communion. During Lent, though, this ancient text serves for us a different purpose. We heard it today as our Psalm reading – as we do every Ash Wednesday and every Holy Week and sometimes at some other point during Lent. And this is with good reason, because Psalm 51 is the quintessential Lenten Psalm, because of its deeply penitential nature. Tradition says that King David wrote this Psalm after being confronted regarding his series of mishaps in which he coveted someone else’s wife (Bathsheba) as she bathed on the roof, then arranged to have her husband Uriah killed in battle, then took Bathsheba as his own wife. (It’s a great story for teaching confirmation students about the 10 Commandments, because David epically breaks so many of them in so short a time!) When David’s prophet Nathan confronts him, David is deeply contrite, and he writes this Psalm.

            Well, it may or may not have happened just that way, but I always found it very useful that this Psalm had a whole story to go with it. It helped me enter into it more deeply, to relate it to real life events. And it helped me to realize: whether or not that’s what really happened, Psalms are always connected to a story – whether it is someone’s story from hundreds or thousands of years ago, or my own story, or yours, right now.

            This year, the story it is connected to for me is the story of how we, as a congregation, are going to strive to live more simply during Lent this year, and specifically to my own efforts at this, which I’ll say more about later. I am particularly drawn to that line, “Create in me a clean heart, O God.” That word, “create,” is the same one used in Genesis when God creates the universe. It is a uniquely divine activity. And the heart, in Hebrew anthropology, is understood as the place from which one’s will and desires come. So in asking God to “create in me a clean heart,” the Psalmist is asking God to create in him a heart that is oriented toward God’s will, not his own.

And that’s just what Lent is about, right? It is about our attempts at personal reflection and evaluation, and considering the things in our lives that hinder our relationship with God, and trying to eliminate those barriers. And it is also about recognizing that in the end, only God can create in us clean hearts. Only God’s divine action can recreate our will.

And so spiritual growth becomes something we do together, God and us. For our part, we engage in activities such as giving up over-indulgence and excess, being more generous to those in need, or taking on a prayer practice. We participate in such activities with the hope that in doing so we are preparing our hearts to be created anew by a God who loves us too much to let us stay the way we are. We use these tactics, these disciplines, to open ourselves up to the possibility of change, and then God, in His creative power, creates in us clean hearts that are oriented toward God’s will and way.

            To me, this is an essential way to approach the practice of living simply. So much of striving to live more simply has to do with overcoming old habits, habits that may work for us in our personal bubble (or may not!), but regardless, may have serious consequences when considered for their broader effect. Take, for example: plastic bags. As you know, the plastic bag ban in NY State goes into effect on Sunday. Wegmans has already rolled out the ban. Shortly after they did, I asked the checker, “So how’s the bag thing going?” He quickly said, “Please don’t ask me that.” That well, huh? I have heard much grumbling about this move, as well as much rejoicing. So, let’s look at the simplicity and the faith implications of this ban.

Maybe you, like many, feel that it works just fine for us to go to the grocery store and bring home food for our families in plastic bags. After all, we use those bags for garbage can liners and to pick up pet waste, or maybe we even go so far as to recycle the unused bags. So, no problem, right? We’re doing our part. Why ban them?

Well, looking upstream, what about all the petroleum used to make those bags? What about the land and air that is destroyed or polluted to make those factories? What about the workers who breathe in those toxic chemicals? What about the trucks that transport the bags to your local Wegmans? And then looking downstream, what about the stray bags that get caught up in the trees and pollute our lovely streets? What about the sea turtles who mistake plastic bags floating in the sea for the jellyfish they love to eat? They eat the bags and choke, or become too lethargic to migrate with the seasons, or to mate, and they end up dying – not just that one turtle, but eventually, the whole species. Suddenly, our innocent trip to get groceries has become a part of a large, complex web of detriment.[1]

            I’m not trying to make everyone feel guilty, and it is impossible to think about these things for everything single purchase and item. But starting to think about just a few of them helps us be more aware of our impact. So, now that we know these things happen, and that our habits contribute to them – what makes us so resistant to changing our ways? Inconvenience? Laziness? Forgetfulness? (Oops, my bags are in the car, oh well.) Ambivalence? (Eh, I’m only one person, what’s the big deal?) Is a heart with these things as its value the sort of heart that is ready to praise and worship God? If God were to create a clean heart, a new heart, in us – what might it look like? Where might that clean heart’s will be oriented?

            Here’s how I would answer that for myself. I’ve been interested in simplicity for several years now. When I first started learning about it, one thing I decided to work on was cutting way back on the amount of plastic I consume. I was primarily concerned with single-use plastic, the stuff that I know is only a fleeting part of my life before it ends up a part of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, an island of plastic garbage twice the size of Texas in the Central North Pacific Ocean. I learned about the toxins in plastic, which leach into our food and water, the toxins taken in by the people who make the stuff, and the ways this man-made substance, which cannot ever decompose, pollutes our world. As I learned, I was horrified by the far-reaching consequences of this seemingly benign and all to prevalent substance, and the many photos I saw of the havoc it has wreaked. I was moved then to take some small steps – refusing a straw in restaurants, or bringing my own, adding reusable produce bags to my grocery trips, bringing them to every store, little things. I shared my learnings with others, and did all I could reasonably do to reduce my personal plastic use.

It has not been an easy journey, and I have failed mightily at many points – especially after having kids and all the plastic that comes with them! Yet still, through my learning and my small action steps, I have felt my heart being created anew. I have found my will being reoriented into one that relishes in the beauty of the eco-system God has created, instead of contributing to its destruction. I have felt God use this to help me see other things with fresh eyes, whether it is what I eat, how I spend my time, the clutter in my space, or how I view my relationship with and responsibility to my neighbors, both the people I know and the people I will never meet but who played an essential role in allowing me to live the comfortable life with which I am familiar.

            I will tell you, I didn’t go into the effort to live more simply with the intention of having God create a new heart in me – I went into it strictly with my head, like I do most things, trying to learn and understand more about the world. I didn’t intend to be changed because frankly, I thought I was doing pretty well already. (I’ve been bringing my own bags since before it was cool!) And I will also confess, that when God creates a new heart… it does hurt a little. Finding habits that need to change can be a wonderful and healthy thing, but it can also be frustrating, discouraging, and convicting.

As my heart continues to be recreated by our loving God (because I’ll tell ya, God’s got a long way to go yet on my heart!), it continues to hurt, but it also continues to bring new life and new perspective. And that is why this prayer remains essential: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” It was David’s prayer when he recognized the depth and reach of his sin. It has been the prayer of many generations of Jews and Christians who have prayed this Psalm. And it is our prayer, as we enter this Lenten season: that God would use this time to open us to the possibility of newness and change. At the end of Lent, we will see how God turns death and loss into life and victory through Jesus Christ; and so, let us, as we pray these ancient words, also pray that God would create life and victory in us.

            Let us pray… Holy God, create in us clean hearts, and renew a right spirit within us. Cast us not away from your presence, but bring us ever closer to you, as we work to open ourselves to your life-changing creativity in our lives. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.    

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[1] I know, paper bags have their issues too, especially with the water used to produce them and their increased weight and cost in shipping. Even cloth bags have their negative impact, although it is less the more times you use them. Consumerism causes damage to the environment, no way around it!

Sermon: Listen to him and do not be afraid. (Feb. 23, 2020)

Transfiguration Sunday

February 23, 2020

Matthew 17:1-9

INTRODUCTION

         Today is the day we call Transfiguration Sunday. That’s a totally churchy word, one you probably don’t hear anywhere else, but it’s an important one. This day always falls at the end of Epiphany, the season of light, because it is the brightest day of all. We’ll hear the story of Moses on Mount Sinai talking to God amidst lightning, thunder, and fog, and then the story of Jesus on a mountain with his disciples, in which he suddenly turns dazzling white, with face as bright as the sun. In our epistle reading, Peter, who was on that mountain, will retell this same story. On this Sunday, we truly see the glory and brightness of God – a sight that is as magnificent as it is terrifying, as we will also see!

         But Transfiguration also serves another purpose. From that high point on the mountain, we will walk with Jesus and the disciples back down the mountain, and start heading for Jerusalem, where Jesus will be killed. It is the turning point from the season of light, to Lent, the season of penitence and lament. I’ve often viewed this experience on a mountaintop as a sort of gift and assurance of God’s glory before we head into a season of sacrifice and prayer, a journey that will take us with Christ the cross. As I have traveled that Lenten journey, I have thought back to the assurance we experience on this day, and held it close for comfort, as we move toward the resurrection joy we will find on Easter.

         So as you listen, look for something you can hold onto for the next 6 weeks of Lent. Where do you find hope in these stories? Where do you feel assured? What makes you feel confident that God has got this, and will never let us fall? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Here are two things you may or may not know about me. 1) I buy most of my clothes at consignment and thrift shops. 2) I love talking to strangers (that’s probably not a surprise!). With that in mind, here is a story about a time I was totally in my element… and then I totally wasn’t. A few years ago, I was shopping at one of my favorite consignment shops, and I found a sweater I liked. While I was paying, I was trying to make conversation with the woman who worked there, but she was very disjointed, and kept saying how scattered her mind was this week… and then she finally said, “I’ve been absent-minded all week. My niece was killed on Sunday.” Not what I expected! Figuring she must have told me this because she needed to talk about it, I gently asked what happened, and listened to her story. As she spoke, I felt a voice saying, “Tell her you’re a pastor. Give her your card. Pray with her.” I started praying silently throughout the conversation, but the voice wouldn’t quit. But something kept me from listening to it: I was afraid. I didn’t want things to turn awkward. I didn’t want to put myself out there. I just wanted to buy my sweater! Before I left, I told her I would be praying for her and her family, but even as I said it I knew that I still wasn’t listening to what that voice was telling me. The fact was, I was still afraid.

I can’t help but think of that encounter when I read the Transfiguration story: first, God’s words, “This is my Son. Listen to him!” and then, “and the disciples fell to the ground and were overcome with fear.” It seems to describe to a T my encounter in the consignment shop, where God had clearly said to my heart, “This is my Son, listen to him!” and I – even though I love talking to strangers, and I love talking about Jesus – responded with fear and resistance.

Maybe you have a similar story? A time when you felt God telling you something, but the task for whatever reason seemed to overwhelm you with fear? It happens to me fairly often: I see an opportunity, I am excited by the potential of it, but I quickly dismiss the idea because I am too afraid… rationalizing it with statements like, “It’ll never work, it won’t make a difference, I don’t have time, it’s too expensive,” and other reasonable things like that. You see, I am very good at letting my own voice speak more loudly than God’s.

 “This is my Son. Listen to him!” said that voice to the disciples, and so also to me and to all of us. And they fell to the ground and were overcome with fear. They did not know what it might mean to listen to Jesus. What might he tell them to do – things that are difficult and scary and out of their comfort zone?  What might it mean for their lives – a change? A transformation for which they aren’t prepared? A venture into a way of life that is entirely unfamiliar? Of course they – we! – are overcome with fear!

The month of February, as you likely know, is Black History Month. Though there are many impressive and important people to celebrate this month, I’m sure the one who leaps most immediately to our minds is the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Of course, he is not only a part of black history, but an integral part of American history. His relentless work on behalf of civil rights is widely commended, lauded, and lifted up as faithful and patriotic example. He is a giant of American history, even named often as a contemporary prophet.

Of course, like all prophets, he wasn’t nearly so lauded in the time when he was doing that important work. He was threatened, arrested, dismissed, even received hundreds of death threats. He recounts one night in 1956, after receiving a particularly chilling death threat, when he found himself unable to sleep. He made himself some coffee and sat at the kitchen table. With his head in his hands, he cried out to God. He later recalled, quoting the old hymn, “I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone… He promised never to leave me, no never alone.”

            “This is my Son. Listen to him!” Thank God that brother Martin was not afraid that night to listen to Jesus’ voice! He had every reason to be afraid – far more reason than most of us have to dismiss God’s calling to us. He had every reason to go to that now-famous mountaintop to view the Promised Land, and respond, “No way. It is too hard. The personal sacrifice is too great. I quit.” But he didn’t. He listened. He kept that vision of God’s glory in his heart and mind. And though he may very well have been overcome by fear, he marched on, fought for the oppressed, and rode that arc of the moral universe just as close to justice as he could get in his too-short time on earth.

What an important time in history it is to lift up his legacy – his legacy of listening to Christ in the face of fear, and acting in faith. As we look around at the state of the world, the state of our country, we can see that there is much work to be done. Division and hatred are rampant. Racism looks different now than it did when King was doing his work, but it is still very much a reality. Some people fear for their lives, whether they cannot afford adequate healthcare, or because they have the wrong color of skin, the wrong religion, or the wrong walk of life. Poverty rates in our own city are too high, and graduation rates are too low. We might look at any number of the problems in our city, in our country, in our world, and ask God what we should do about it, and the answer we get when we “listen to him” is not the one we want to hear. Because getting involved in any of these issues – plus the countless others I didn’t even mention – causes fear: fear for our safety, fear for our comfort level, fear for our reputation, fear for our personal relationships with people we love but disagree with, fear for our way of life and our view of the world. Listening to God puts us at risk, and that’s scary. I would rather just bask in God’s glory on a mountaintop, blissfully unaware of what is happening back down in the valley, at the bottom of the mountain. I would rather listen to my own voice instead of Jesus’, because my voice is full of reason and safe ideas. Jesus’ voice too often causes me to be overcome with fear.

Yes, listening to Jesus can be paralyzingly scary. He often asks us to do things we are uncomfortable doing. No one knows this better than Jesus himself, who ended up on a cross for doing what God told him!

But the grace of our faith is that the story doesn’t stop there, in fear and death. It doesn’t stop at the cross, nor with the disciples on the ground overcome with fear. After they fall to the ground in fear, Jesus comes to them and touches them – I love that detail. He touches them, in this gentle, caring gesture of understanding. And he says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Get up, and do not be afraid. Do not be afraid, because after this, we’re gonna walk down this mountain, face the world, see just how bad it can get… and then I’m gonna show you that I am more powerful than all of that. I’m gonna show you that death has no power over me, and because of that, you have nothing to fear.

            Fear can be paralyzing. Death can be devastating. But Christ could not have shown us that ours is a God of new life without first going through the fear and death. And so we are empowered to face what pains and uncertainties might come from listening to Jesus’ voice – as challenging as it is comforting – because we have been assured that out of this comes transformation: a new and glorious life that would not have been otherwise possible.

This is God’s Son. Listen to him, and do not be afraid.

           Let us pray… Glorious God, you have promised to bring life out of our fear and death. Give us the courage, then, to listen to your voice, to trust you, and not to be afraid. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Photo credit: 
Walsh, George, 1939-. Kingdom of God, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=57353 [retrieved February 24, 2020]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tullow_Church_of_the_Most_Holy_Rosary_South_Transept_Window_Mysteries_of_Light_and_Pope_John_Paul_II_Detail_Transfiguration_2013_09_06.jpg.