Do Not Be Daunted

A sermon I wrote for four children, ages 13, 10, 10, and 8, to preach in worship at First Presbyterian Church of New Haven on December 18, 2016.

For context, much of the congregation had recently read the book Faithful Resistance: Gospel Visions for the Church in a Time of Empire (compiled and partly written by Rick Ufford Chase). The Gospel reading of the morning was Matthew 1:18-25. Shortly after the reading, the children acted out a play which elaborated on the text, and the play led directly into the sermon. Find the scripture passage here.

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L: “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.”
A: “Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.”
M: “You are not obligated to complete the work--”
R: “--but neither are you free to abandon it.” *

A: Did you know that Jesus was Jewish? This is something that surprised me when I first learned it. When we read our Bible as Christians, we don’t want to make it sound like God left the Jewish people or thought their faith was not good enough. Joseph and Mary were Jewish, too. That’s why in our play, Joseph makes a point of telling his sister that he still loves God and Torah, which is the Hebrew Law.

M: Later on in Matthew, Jesus even says that he has come to fulfill the Law, not to abolish it. Sometimes it isn’t really obvious, but most of the things that Joseph, Mary, and Jesus do are in light of their faith, not in spite of it. In today’s text, Joseph has a decision to make. What does the Law require of him?

L: “What does the Lord require of you? Do justice. Love kindness and mercy. Walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8. His faith would have taught him to honor both justice and mercy.

R: The Bible says Joseph planned to “dismiss Mary quietly.” We don’t know what really made him decide that, but we do know he didn’t want to hurt her or shame her. A public accusation would have done that. So why isn’t it good enough for Joseph not to hurt Mary? Isn’t that both justice and mercy? Why does he decide to stay with her, and what difference does it make?

M: “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.”
R: “Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.”
L: “You are not obligated to complete the work--”
A: “--but neither are you free to abandon it.”

R: The Harper Collins Commentary tells us what it means for Joseph to be a righteous man. Besides valuing justice and mercy, Joseph is also “open to divine revelation that corrects his traditional way of thinking.” In other words, Joseph is open to God telling him something that Joseph wouldn’t recognize as holy without God’s help. This too is righteousness.

A: Joseph dreams that an angel tells him who Jesus will be and what his birth will mean. This is the Messiah the Jews have been waiting for. This is Emmanuel, “God with us.”

M: Faith does not only challenge us to be more just and more merciful. Faith challenges us to stay with God and the vulnerable people God loves.

L: When people are in danger or pushed to the edges of power, even if the threat doesn’t affect us directly, it still changes our lives. It must.

A: “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.”
M: “Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.”
R: “You are not obligated to complete the work--”
L: “--but neither are you free to abandon it.”

R: Faith changes how we witness crisis and pain. The Global Bible Commentary tells us not to ignore the political implications here: “Having hope is a political act of resistance against death-wielding powers.” These powers might be government, economics, social norms, or religious convictions.

L: In our play, Joanna shows us what’s at stake for Mary. Mary agrees to help bring Jesus into the world, but even if she tells people the whole story, they might not believe her. Because of social and religious customs, acting on her hope could put her in danger.

M: Brian Merritt writes in Faithful Resistance that salvation is not something a person can own. Instead, “we understand salvation to be resistance that pushes … toward equality and compassion for all living creatures.”

A: Along with Joseph, we might also learn that there is more to loving people than sparing them from harm. Sometimes faithful resistance means being a friend or companion to someone other people wouldn’t blame you for ignoring.

L: Merritt writes, “This is why direct action and mutual aid are so central to our own spiritual growth. These actions put us at risk in ways similar to the constant condition of those who are oppressed. It may be our only opportunity to find Christ in this world.”

A: Remember, Joseph is not the Savior here. Jesus is.

R: And God’s salvation work will happen whether Joseph decides to participate or not.

M: But through the dream, God tells Joseph exactly what it is he has the chance to do. And just like with Mary, God already knows what Joseph’s answer is going to be.

R: “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.”
L: “Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.”
A: “You are not obligated to complete the work--”
M: “--but neither are you free to abandon it.”

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*Citation: This quote, used here as a refrain, is commonly attributed to the Talmud and appears to paraphrase/be influenced by a few voices, such as Rabbi Rami Shapiro.

Whatever He Says, It's That One

When my college friends traipsed into the dining hall one night, we wrote our names on slips of paper for the game show staff stationed in the entryway and then sat at a round table not far from the newly erected set. It was Deal or No Deal, a sort of traveling entertainment company that would host the game right there in Bates Common Dining with all but Howie Mandel and the chicks in evening garb.



Students were randomly selected to participate for the chance to win money, gradually eliminating numbered cases holding various amounts. A one-night campus event, you could say it was a limited time offer.

I'd never seen the show - I vaguely remembered that some kids I'd babysat liked it, but they hadn't even watched it while I was with them - so friends filled in the gaps for me when I was confused.

And then my name was called.



The round table of knowledgeable advisors suddenly seemed so very far away.

A few of us were organizing a relief trip to New Orleans at the time, and we'd discussed that if we won something, it would go toward the cause. But I'd imagined that, if any of us were even called, it would at least be someone who knew what they were doing. I tended to figure that my being randomly selected for a guessing game was even less probable than my being purposely selected for a dodgeball team. Either way, I guess it's a bit hit-or-miss. (OK, bad joke, I'm sorry. Please don't throw things at me! Heh.)

I must have looked flustered, but the host was reassuring: this round would be simple. Because we were nearing the end of the event, there would be a few modified rounds for set prize amounts, rather than the whole song and dance.

The host motioned to two cases.

Over his directions, I heard within, "Whatever he says, it's that one."

I glanced at the case closest to me.



What the host was saying finally registered: one of the cases had a card inside with the amount of $50 while the other showed 50 cents. Choosing correctly meant a prize of over a hundred dollars.

"So," he finished, "which case do you think has the amount of 50 cents?"

I pointed.

Anyone who had ever seen me pick out ice cream or decide what to do with the afternoon knew very well that I seemed a little too sure of what I was doing.

In actuality, I can't really say that I was certain. In the fleeting moment of time between standing by the cases and pointing at one, there was literally no deliberation in my mind, yes, but there was also no sense of "I know this." But the funny thing is, in that moment without certainty, I also had no doubt. I simply did not experience either certainty or doubt in the way that I had ever known either one.

And so it is in contemplating my faith - the beliefs upon which so much of myself is grounded, with or without tangible evidence - that I now remember that night.

I don't insist that it was God, though it was hella creepy in the sense that it was so unlike my usual inner thought processes. But of all of the times that I have had the it-doesn't-feel-like-me-thinking-this experience, this one seems among the least "holy." It would be easy enough to say that it was God's will for us to receive that money for our trip, or to shake things up in my faith life in just one more way. But I don't know. I'm grateful, regardless; I just think attributing anything to God is a matter not to be taken lightly. Wherever the words came from, the trip and my deepening faith were what they were, and that seems to suffice for me.

All that said, this spontaneous phrase still intrigues me to this day.

It strikes me that it was so distinctly, "Whatever he says, it's that one" - so unwavering in its basic concept that truth existed and it did not depend on the host or on me.

It also strikes me that it was something of a declaration of that truth, not a command or advice as to what to do. It even came before the man had said what was expected of me.

Sometimes we are spiritually guided or instructed. "Be not afraid."

But other times, I believe we simply hear truth, and we must act on what we have heard.

Not "Pick the one on the left," but "Whatever he says, it's that one." It just is. It just is. So now what?

When we're confronted with unusual proclamations of truth, especially when we don't expect them, perhaps we will need to pause and consider, mull the words over in our minds, discern their truthfulness and only then formulate a response. Or perhaps we will hear it and know what to do with it before we even realize the magnitude of what's happening.

Either way, true Truth seems to wait for no one to tell it that it's true - as though it's comfortable in its own skin. It can be told or heard, mangled or celebrated, denied or upheld. But at times like this I suspect that it isn't our embracing it that makes the Truth true.

God is in the Detours

My alma mater, Sarah Lawrence College, has unique course registration methods which sometimes work in a student's favor, but usually only if the student has recently sacrificed a rack of veggie burgers on the grill behind Westlands. (Now you know the real reason for all those orientation BBQ picnics.)

Alas, in my sophomore year I was bumped from the apparently popular course called Psychoneuroimmunology, which had taken me a substantial chunk of the summer to learn how to pronounce... so it's probably for the best that I didn't get to take it. Still, I suspect that I would have (blissfully and ignorantly) enjoyed it, because I'd bought some of the textbooks in advance and started reading early. This, in light of my procrastinating nature, was downright miraculous.

Being bumped sort of popped the miracle bubble.

Reluctantly, I returned my orphaned books and began the well-loathed ritual of Alternate Registration. I revisited the course listings, jotting down feasible second choices. Possibly the most fear-inducing part of this process is that registration takes place the week before classes begin, and by the time Alternate Registration rolls around, you have both fewer options and less time until term. Not uber conducive, I feared, to good decision-making.

I eventually narrowed it down to two courses, including a philosophy course called "Language and Religious Experience." The title hummed back at me from the page, like a fiendish zombie or a frustrated teenager (obviously interchangeable): Take meeeeeeeeee.


Source

It drooled. Or I drooled. I'm not really sure. Anyway, it suddenly sounded especially interesting, and the very fact that both of my remaining options were each somehow theological in nature (and I'd not yet studied anything of the like) sort of whacked me upside the head with insight.

Okay, God, I get it.

Ultimately I decided that this two-and-a-half-hour, 8:30 AM class would be well worth it.

Mind-blowing academia aside, it certainly left me with a few quotable gems, like this one from a discussion on humans' "sense of time," and the student was entirely serious and unaware of what he was saying (TO OUR PROFESSOR) until it was out:

"Sometimes time seems to go by very quickly and other times it moves very slowly. Like this class is two and half hours long, but it feels like forever."

Beat. Laughter. Yeah, it was a good time.

But most significantly, I gained vivid understandings of ideas that had absolutely baffled me, particularly the doctrine of the trinity and the duality of Jesus' humanity and divinity. By the end of the course, I still couldn't articulate it for beans. Yet there was a distinct time of growth in my spirituality, mostly toward reconciling intellect and mystery of faith.

The irony is that these are exactly the sort of topics (and then some) with which I am struggling now in my theology program.

Sometimes we have to take multiple detours.

And all the while, there is a pervasive sense that any such pain truly is an aspect of growth, that this is just one step in a complex process. Like wanting to loathe the detour of Alternate Registration, yet knowing in my core that I'm headed to where I must be.

(Dis)agreeing with Friends and Partners

What quality is more important to you in a friend or partner: the conclusions that they make or how they have arrived at their conclusions? That is, would you rather that someone agree with you on a subject or issue even if you disagree with the way they formed their views, or would you prefer to disagree with them but somehow appreciate the methods by which they formed their views?



I intend this question not as a matter of judging a person as a person but of evaluating one as your own companion. Imagine yourself spending a great deal of time with this person. Which quality would bother you more? Would the nature of the subject upon which you are agreeing or disagreeing greatly affect your response? What scenarios, real or hypothetical, does this bring to mind for you?



Feel free to respond to any of these questions below, and for those with blogs who wish to address this topic that way, link here to your post.

Do You Have A Decision To Make?

Life is a series of decisions, and some of us are decisively-challenged. Fortunately, they've made reliable compensatory tools for us.



As you and anyone who has ever shaken an 8 Ball have already sorted out, you can't depend solely on others to make difficult decisions for you. Difficult decisions, by nature, demand of us time and energy and reasoning and in general more patience than we are keen to maintain.

You can, however, continue to seek support - not support for one choice or another, but literally support for YOU. Who do you know is on your side, even when you don't know which side you're on? Talk to those people about your decision - or don't. Just be with them. They may not have the answers, but whether in word or deed, they can help to provide the framework you need as you work at the decision at-hand, something that may have significant implications for one change or another in your life.

And sometimes, seek time alone. It is perhaps one of the most conflicting feelings of humanity to feel alone while surrounded by people, even one's own loved ones. But, based upon my humble sample size, it is a common one; ultimately, you are not alone in that. Purposely withdrawing and allowing time for reflection, meditation, or simply taking time apart from hubbub and distraction - be it a few minutes in the shower or an organized month-long retreat - can help you to refocus and prevent you from feeling fragmented.



Which of those many voices telling you what to do or how to approach an issue is your voice? Have you been speaking all along, unable to hear what you wanted to say beneath the din of many well-intentioned advisors? Were you silent? Do you still not know what your say in the matter is? At this time, what further information or understanding would better help you to formulate and clarify your perspective?

If you pray, keep praying. Not just to get an answer from God, but also to get an answer from yourself. Then see if God has more to say. Let it be a conversation.

I say it this way not to diminish God's input or to rationalize what seem to be unanswered prayers, but to emphasize that no part of living is a spectator sport, and some even less so than others.



Blessed are the submarine racers, for they shall have all the fun.

At times, I thought that if God wanted something for me, God would make it work - not that God would make everything mysteriously fall into place and I wouldn't have to put in any effort, but that God would at least make it obvious to me as to what was the way it was all Supposed to Be. Because I have felt that God's guidance was so clear in some matters, I came to expect such clarity more often. I made demands of God that were not mine to make and felt indignant when they seemed unfulfilled. Instead of continuing to trust that God would direct me on a Need-to-Know basis, I wanted to know why I was being left in the dark.

In faith and prayer, it is sometimes easy to want to give everything up to God and forget that we are beings of free will, and that God wanted that for us; gave that to us. Understand that the point is not for God to force us into what, in hindsight, we will consider to have been the best decision. While I believe God guides us and helps us to discern many of our paths, I wonder if perhaps God occasionally withdraws to let us come to a new level of self-awareness and self-motivation; to discover the incredible strength of our convictions, even when we are not fueled by their perceived divine importance; and to allow us the opportunity to chart our course with the understanding that God is going to be there no matter which way we choose - even in difficult situations, and even when we wonder if things would have turned out differently if we had decided otherwise.