Come as you are …

I was asked to speak at a press conference in Public Square in downtown Cleveland for Demand Action to End Gun Violence on Mother’s Day weekend.  This is a copy of my remarks.

Enough!  Tucson, Aurora, Newtown, and closer to home.  Chardon.  Our Cleveland streets.   It happens so often now that our grief has not run its course before the next shooting happens.  Gun violence is a leading cause of death among young American men, and now we grieve even young children shooting other children.  We are exhausted by the weight of living under the constant threat of gun violence to our families and communities, and especially to our children.  It is easy to feel defeated and to do nothing, but we must gather our energies and use our voices to strengthen our gun safety laws.  We must begin with closing the loopholes that allow criminals and the dangerously mentally ill to buy guns without undergoing background checks.

Senators Toomey and Manchin’s compromise would have required background checks for all gun sales at gun shows and online.  It is so common sense that we wonder how anyone can oppose such a measure. We are suspicious and cynical when they do oppose it.  This bill does not place a burden on gun sellers.  It does not require background checks of sales between friends and family – people known to the seller.  But sellers do not know strangers at gun shows, and we know the Internet can be used to hide a person’s true identity.  This background checks bill just makes sense.  It is enforceable.  It will reduce crime and save lives. 

It is why we are here this morning.  As concerned citizens who vote.  It is also Mother’s Day weekend.

I would be nowhere else.   It’s my daughter’s birthday today.  My daughter who will give birth to our first grandchild in just a few months.  David and I are parents to five children – all grown up now.  They were in school when Columbine happened, and tragic though that was, it seemed isolated and far-away from us.  We could reassure our children that this did not happen at their school.  They were safe.  We would grieve because we are compassionate people of faith, called to love even those we will never know.  But we were safe.  They are grown up young adults now, and the world has changed.  One of our sons lives just blocks away in the same neighborhood in Boston where there was the torrent of gunfire just weeks ago, and a campus security guard shot and killed.  Our daughter recently woke to gunshots in a home invasion next door to her.  Her 68 year old neighbor is dead.  You never stop being a mom and worrying about your children and you pray for a safe world for your grandchildren.

But I’m not just a mom.  I’m a pastor.  I have buried a gun violence victim and a gun violence suicide.  A young man and a young woman the age of my children.  I don’t know that their families will ever recover.  Their heartbreak has not eased even though time has passed.

I am the pastor of a church with a large group of junior high and high school students.  Just a little over a year ago, we were all together at church on the day of the Chardon shootings.  It was a Monday.  Our young disciples (as we call them) came to church that day after school – all of them knew what had happened that morning.  The announcement came over the loudspeakers at each of their schools. But it was personal for us because one of our families was directly affected.  A Chardon high-schooler who was there in the cafeteria.  A Chardon high-schooler who was grateful to be alive, who went running into the arms of her equally grateful parents who came to take her home.

It was good for our kids to be all together that afternoon.  We talked about safe places.  We believe church is one of those places. We don’t bully, and we don’t exclude anyone.  We cried and we prayed.  And not even one year later, it was Friday, Dec. 15 at Sandy Hook Elementary when it took less than 5 minutes to kill 20 little children.  And so we talked with our children again and found out that same week a middle schooler was caught with a loaded gun in his locker in Euclid.  Every single one of our young disciples has been on lockdown – our kids come from Chardon and Euclid and Shaker Heights and Cleveland schools.  They know the threat is real.  We no longer can comfort them by saying this happened far away and it will not happen to you.

Our church has declared itself a weapons free zone.  Because who knows – someone could decide to bring a gun with them to worship.  We will do everything we can to remain a safe place for our children and youth.

My heart bleeds for any mother – any parent – for whom Mother’s Day is a reminder of their grief in the death of family members due to gun violence.  We will add more victims before the weekend is over as 33 people are murdered with guns every day in this country.  I pray for the pastors who will be called to be with these families – sometimes called in to comfort entire communities.  No amount of formal education and training can truly prepare us.  I do not want to be that pastor, but I will do what I am called to do.

Together we must work to find a solution.  Today we join our hearts and our efforts in creating Mother’s Day cards and flowers which we will use to show Senator Rob Portman that it’s time for him to stand with us.  Because no mother should lose a child, and no child should lose a mother due to gun violence.  We can prevent many of these deaths.  Hear us, Senator Portman.  This makes gun sense.  It is common sense.  And it is freedom.  From fear.  For our children and the country they will grow up in.

Rev. Kristine Eggert

May 10, 2013

So, is Lent about personal discipline and introspection?  It is.  But because we are followers of Jesus, it is not just about ourselves, it is about our lives together in community.  We are disciples who are working on the discipline of being faithful.  Discipline is a regimen that develops or improves a skill.  For us who are followers of Jesus, the skill we need to improve — perhaps we’re still needing to develop — is of being generous to the extreme.  Extravagant in our love for our savior who commands us to then lavish that love on each other.

How else can you properly thank someone for bringing you back to life?

This was the conclusion to the sermon I preached yesterday on the 5th Sunday in Lent.  The story was about a dinner party.  The next-to-the-last dinner party Jesus will attend before his death.  It began as a celebration to thank Jesus for the miracle of bringing Lazarus back to life.  His sister Martha was busy in the kitchen.  The disciples were preparing to sit down for a delicious meal when Mary scandalized the gathering with her inappropriate behavior of lavishing love and attention –and precious oil on her savior’s feet.

Inappropriate to whom?  Certainly not Jesus.  He told them in no uncertain terms to back off and leave her be.  She was the only one in the room who understood who he was.  The only one who was preparing for him to die.  The only one who saw the big picture.   The one who teaches us by her actions that the time set aside to worship our savior is time well spent.

Painting by Donald D. Krause. Anointing at Bethany.

Sunday morning worship seen as indulgence?  I suppose it is.  One hour set aside to sing with abandon. To watch and listen as our children come to understand church as a safe place where all are welcome.  To greet one another in peace.  To learn and to pray.  And when the end of the hour is approaching, to hear an invitation to a party.  A feast.

As there was a feast to celebrate Lazarus being brought back to life, so there is also a

feast every Sunday in a Disciples of Christ worship service.

Because how else can we properly thank our Savior God for bringing us back to life.

This is a serious season in our faith.  We will watch Jesus enter Jerusalem with palms waving and crowds cheering.  Soon after we will be shocked by Judas’ betrayal and saddened by Peter’s denial.  And even after 40 days of preparation, we will be unprepared for the shock of seeing Jesus on the cross.  And still there will be a feast in the midst of it all, as Jesus gathers with his disciples for one final meal.   A meal that begins with the indulgence of Jesus bending over his disciples’ feet, washing them clean.  Taking the time to love extravagantly even in the face of death.

I pray as one who leads a community of faith for my own willingness to take the time to thank him for bringing me back to life.  And I pray together with that community for us to  reciprocate in that thank you by showering Christ’s love on each other.  No matter the time it takes.  No matter the cost.

Blessings –

Pastor Kris

There was this tree.  And it was supposed to have fruit, but it didn’t.  The owner of the land went to the gardener and said, what’s up with this tree?  It’s been years and still no fruit.  Just cut it down.   It’s taking up precious space and using valuable nutrients.  But the gardener intervened for the tree and said, give it another chance.  If I take proper care of it.   If I nourish it.  If I just give it some special attention, who knows what fruit it might bear?  Give it another year.  Let’s see where we are a year from now.

A re-write of a portion of Sunday’s sermon text from Luke.

What would we do with the gift of another year?   It’s a question I ask during pre-marital counseling.  Strictly hypothetically, what if your spouse was given six months to live, what would you do?  The answers do not vary much — I’d quit my job and spend every minute together.   I’d do all I could to make everything on her bucket list come true.  New Year’s Resolutions are made in much the same spirit — what will I do with this year?

But we are humans with short attention spans, and a year is a long ways away.  We’ve got more time before we actually have to make changes, right?  We don’t have to start today, do we? We always think we have more time, and we are people who push deadlines.

So, let’s start with a shorter expanse of time.  What are you going to do today?  This morning.  Later in the afternoon.  Tonight right after dinner.  There is some urgency to being who God is calling us to be.

We had some fun with urgency yesterday in church.  It was fun that emerged from a serious health situation involving a member family.  It is very recent news that we are just starting to digest.  What can we do?  We can pray.  It was that time in the service when we pray for those in our church who have asked for our prayers.  Of course this family would know we’d be doing this — if not for the surgery late last week, they’d be right there with us.  They would know, but would they feel the prayers?

We decided to text our prayers.  Over 50 text messages sent — all at the same time.   And on the receiving end?  Our dear church member was coming back to her room after a walk around the hospital floor and started hearing one vibration after another.  And another.  Then another.  She couldn’t imagine what it was until she walked into her room and picked up her phone and saw that it was her church family praying for her.  Holding the phone in her hand as the messages kept coming.   How often do we hear the words, I’ll pray for you.  She literally felt the vibrations of those prayers.  And she has them right at her fingertips today when she needs to be reminded.

So, can we do that in the middle of a church service?  Get out our phones and send a text  message?  Absolutely we can.  We seized the moment to let someone know we care.  We seized the moment to say you are not alone.  We laughed.  We cried.

What could we have been doing at that particular moment that was any more Christ-like? If Jesus had a smartphone, that is …

Why put off until tomorrow what you could do today.  What can you do today to be more like Christ.  We may have a year or 50.  But we will never have this day again.  Someone needs to know you are there for them.  Someone needs a delicious fig from the tree that God has tended and nourished and allowed to thrive.  That delicious fig is you.  You’ll discover there’s plenty good fruit on that tree once you make the decision to share.

Blessings and peace –

Pastor Kris

It’s a gray and cold rainy February Tuesday in Cleveland.  A day to be tired of winter and yet a day too early to be thinking much about spring.  It’s a good day to be home and wrapped up in a blanket in front of a fire with a cup of hot chocolate and a good novel.

I suppose that would be good but it’s not to be.  Not today.  I’m here at church in my study with my first opportunity today to be alone.  It’s a busy building today with the Hunger Center and Benefits Banks open for business, staff meeting, Prayer Shawl ministry, and various other people who have found reasons to be here in the building.  For anyone who thinks church is busy only on Sunday mornings — visit some weekday and see the fallacy of that assumption.  The day began early for me with a pre-surgery prayer at the hospital.  And it will not end until small group prayer study later this evening.  

Church is at its best when it is busy with people coming and going.   Church is at its best when it just feels right to be here — even without a particular reason.  Church is at its best sometimes on weekdays (with all due respect to the importance of Sunday mornings!) when people are knitting prayer shawls and bagging up groceries.  Having extended conversations that the rush of Sunday morning just doesn’t allow.  Sharing prayer concerns.  Showing the latest photo of a precious grandbaby.  Receiving a phone call that the surgery went well and mom is in recovery.

I think God must smile on days like this.   Days when it is tempting to stay tucked in at home and instead we are here serving others.  Days when we recognize that someone needs us.  Days when we recognize that we are the ones who are in need, and we know this place is where we can be fed.  Literally and figuratively.

I wish all days were just like this one, even with its clouds and cold temperatures.  Sadly, they are not.

Jesus lamented that day in Jerusalem when it seemed that no one was paying attention.  No one seemed to care who he was or what he had to offer.  He knew that times were hard.  Frightening for many.  And yet, people are not flocking to him for protection.   People were going their own way.  People were pursuing other gods.  Following other paths they thought would lead to greatness and power.  We can imagine him in a stooped shouldered posture with his head in his hands.  Any pastor.  Any church leader.  Anyone who loves their church understands.   We’re here — we’re ready and willing to be the body of Christ — and we see the empty pews.  People need what we have — God’s love, Christ’s presence, and the Holy Spirit’s fire.  We are tempted to stand as Jesus must have stood, not willing to look up and see no one there.

Fortunately for us, Jesus didn’t stay in this posture.  In our text from Sunday’s sermon, the image of Jesus was as a mother hen.  With wings outspread.  Ready to protect us from harm.  To gather us under his wing for warmth and comfort.  Ready to die on our behalf.  Yes, he lamented that unlike baby chicks who will instinctively run for cover under those wings, people will often go against instinct.  People will try to go it alone.  Free range chickens, if you will.  Sometimes people will bite the hand that feeds them.  Or deny the person who can save them.  He recognized that try as he might, some people were not willing to follow.   That didn’t stop him.  He loved us too much to give in.  He loves us still.

Have you have ever loved someone you could not protect?  Then you understand the depth of Jesus’ sorrow.  All you can do is open your arms.  You cannot make anyone walk into them.    You not only are left standing there with empty arms, you are allowing yourself to be exposed and vulnerable.  But if you mean what you say, then this is how you must stand.

We have Jesus as our example.  He stood for us.  His arms were outstretched for us even to his death on the cross.  He is not here now to gather us under his wing.  We are the wings.  His body is now made up of us.  We are his body.  And just like with those people of Jerusalem, he is ever hopeful that his message will win out.  That one day it will just be instinctive for us to open our arms and to wrap them around anyone who needs shelter and warmth.  And that one day it will be just as instinctive for us to want that for ourselves.  I know this.  There’s no one who cannot open their arms in love for another person, and there’s not a one of us here who doesn’t need that hug.  There’s no one who doesn’t need what Jesus has to give.

It’s what made today infinitely better here than curled up at home.  There were lots of arms here today doing the Lord’s work.  And, Lord knows there are many who could use the protection and the warmth of those arms.   No time for head in hands around here.  No time for lament or singing the blues.  There’s work to be done.  There’s plenty good room for stretch out our arms.  And there’s plenty good room under those wings.

Blessings and peace –

Pastor Kris

Yesterday was the first Sunday in Lent.  I preached the first sermon in a new series for the season from the familiar story of Jesus being tempted by the devil in the wilderness according to Luke 5:1-13.  Plenty Good Room is this year’s theme — taken from the Negro spiritual of the same name.  There is plenty good room for every single one of us in God’s kingdom.  More about that next week.

This morning I began my annual discipline of praying for each person in my congregation, asking that each person participate with me by helping to guide my prayers and to pray also for me on that day.  I write notes back to each either on e-mail or by mail,whichever is preferred.  It’s a practice that I learned from my mentor in ministry years ago.  It wouldn’t be Lent for me without doing this.

I read my daily devotional after I prayed these prayers.  My choice this year is a book titled, Simplifying the Soul:  Lenten Practices to Renew Your Spirit by Paula Huston.  This week’s theme is about simplifying the use of money, and today’s challenge is to make a meal from whatever is already in my house.  To use up what has been forgotten.  To make do with what I already have.  This one is certainly doable — we have left-over homemade pizza from last night for lunch and potato soup from Saturday.  I doubt the rest of the week will be that easy.

I prepared the syllabus for the Lenten study that I will lead beginning tomorrow night.  Based on Walter Brueggemann’s book, Prayers for a Privileged People, we will read our favorites aloud, discover other published pray-ers who speak to us, and write some prayers of our own.  Wednesday evening a group of us will gather to discern what God is calling us to do about gun violence in our nation.  Pastor’s Class begins Thursday afternoon after school lets out.  Baptisms will be on Palm Sunday.  I plan to blog weekly.

What do I give up for Lent?  Leisure time!

I”m not complaining.  It seems the least I can do for a God who has loved me through every wilderness moment of my life.   A God who challenges me and comforts me all at the same time.  A God in whose image I’ve been created.  A God who sent his son Jesus for me to follow and who will die for me.  A God who grants me the privilege of ordained ministry.  A God who brings together a community of faith like Disciples Christian Church where I serve and whose people I love.  It is to that God and on their behalf that I say these words:

Let the pulse of our hearts throb now,

according to the cadence of your rule;

command and we will obey,

overrule and we will yield,

lead and we will walk

where we never thought to go.

Unto you …

not unto each other,

not unto our pet projects,

not unto our favorite charity or passion.

Unto you … our hearts are open;

we are yours; be our God — yet again.

                                    Walter Brueggemann

May God’s blessings be yours until we meet again in this place.  May God be with you in your journey this Lent.

Pastor Kris

I’ve not posted to this blog for many months.  Back from sabbatical for Advent 2012, I’m posting today a copy of the sermon I preached yesterday at Disciples Christian Church in Cleveland Heights — a sermon that underwent all sorts of revisions given the events of Friday in Newtown, Connecticut.  It’s titled, “Rejoice”   Based on the passage from Philippians 4:4-7, the audio can be found at http://discipleschristian.org/site/sermons.  

Do you remember the children’s book, Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Day?  It’s a story of a day in the life of young Alexander.  A day when from the moment he wakes up things do not go his way.  He trips on a skateboard.  He drops his sweater into the sink while the water was running.  At breakfast, he gets no prize in his breakfast cereal.  He doesn’t get the window seat in the carpool.  His teacher criticizes him for singing too loud and doesn’t like his picture of the invisible castle (which actually was just a blank sheet of paper.  There’s no dessert packed in his lunch, and his brother pushes him down in the mud.  And when he punches his brother, he’s the one who gets in trouble.

That should be the stuff of a child’s life.  Instead, Friday happened in Newtown, Connecticut.   As someone wrote on Twitter Friday evening:  how do you write an obituary for a five year old.  And then how do you write 19 more?

The events of Friday morning at Sandy Hook Elementary School have interjected themselves into our worship this morning.  It is not what we planned.  But there are Sundays when there are situations we can’t help but be thinking about when we are here together.  This is one of those times.

A tragedy of absolutely frightening intensity struck on Friday.  As tough as it is to think about what I ought to say or what it is we’re supposed to do about any of this – I would be nowhere else.  You?

We’ve changed some things about worship today.  While also leaving most of worship intact.  We still lit the candles of Hope, Peace, and Joy.  This sermon – though it’s undergone many revisions – is still titled Rejoice. I hope to make the case for that.  There are many appropriate scripture passages we could have read, like:  Passages God wiping every tear from every eye.  God binding up the brokenhearted.  A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled because they are no more. And yet, these words of rejoicing are the ones calling out loudly.

Rejoice, again I say rejoice.  Do not worry about anything. God is near.  

The words are Paul’s.  It was the Apostle Paul who wrote these words.  He wrote them in a letter to the people of the church he used to pastor in Philippi.  He wrote these words from a jail cell where he was imprisoned for crimes against the state, preaching a radical gospel of Jesus Christ.  Facing the death penalty, he still feels a responsibility for these churches that he started back in his days as an evangelist.  These churches weren’t having an easy time of it either.  These 1^st century Christians – many of whom were poor, some were slaves, and few enjoyed any sense of security about their lives.  Don’t forget that it wasn’t exactly safe to be a Christian in the 1^st century.  Anyone identified with a church was marked for possible persecution and many shared Paul’s martyr’s fate.

And yet, it is Paul in prison who writes this letter of joy to a struggling church about rejoicing.  About not worrying.  Praying and trust that God is near.    Tell us, Paul – how did you manage this yourself and however did you convince the people in your churches to do likewise?  Seriously.  We want to know. We want some of that for ourselves.  We need us some of that.

I wish he were here to ask, but since he is not, here’s my take for this morning.  The rejoicing and the praying and all of that have nothing to do with Paul’s imprisonment.  The rejoicing and the praying and the trusting have little to do with the current unfortunate circumstances of the people in his church.  The rejoicing and the praying are about relationships.  The circumstances were a given.  Life had dealt Paul and his people some tough blows.  But the relationships that were built along the way?   Like the Master Card commercial – the relationships were priceless.  Paul truly loved these people, and sure there was distance and iron bars between them, but that didn’t lessen the commitment they had to each other.  Paul’s affection for these people is obvious throughout this letter.

The feelings are mutual.  It’s not always one big happy family – no church ever is that.  Just back up a couple of verses, and you’ll see that people have made Paul aware of an ongoing argument between two women in the church.  It may have been something petty enough that no one could remember how it started. But it had built to a terrible horrible no-good very bad situation.    Paul had the right to say something like:  you do know that I’m in prison – and still you want to bother me with this?  But he did nothing of the sort.  Without insulting or browbeating anyone for sweating the small stuff, Paul reminds them that it is the relationships that matter.  Encouraging them to do whatever it took to just surround these two women with love and to work towards reconciliation.  Again and again in the letter Paul encourages everyone to get along, to work together, and to … 

Rejoice, I say.  Rejoice. 

Speaking not about some forced cheerfulness, but to a deep and abiding joy in what God has done in Christ to have brought them all together in the first place.  A deep and abiding joy in what God has done in Christ to have gotten them through all sorts of troubles.  A deep and abiding joy in what God in Christ will continue to do through them.    It’s Paul’s belief – it’s his theology that through Christ all things are possible, and it’s Paul’s passion that through Christ happens when we are together in a faith community.  Today we call it church.  A place where people connect with each other at the intersection of their connection with Jesus Christ.  An intersection that happens when there are two or three – or many, and always with room for the next person.   Finding that intersection is cause for rejoicing.

A word about the title slide:  Chosen last week prior to Friday’s events because it illustrates Paul’s sort of rejoicing.  Perhaps you’ve seen this painting before – it’s part of a series of 31 depictions by artist Jacob Lawrence.  Depictions of the life of Harriet Tubman.  He did a similar series about Frederick Douglass.  Documenting the struggles and the achievements of our country’s brave abolitionists.  The rejoicing is unrestrained – even though the struggles were far from over, and the circumstances are still very much a part of life.  Lawrence said of his paintings that they were not conventionally beautiful; rather they were an effort to express the universal beauty of man’s struggle for justice with the added dimension of his spiritual being. Perhaps this illustration is even more appropriate to the day than I anticipated when I chose it.

Because where do people go when they are searching for justice? Where do people go when they need to know there is something larger than their current circumstances?  Where do people go when confronted with tragedy such as what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary?  Church.     As soon as arrangements can be made – and it’s amazing how quickly churches and other houses of faith can be ready – there are prayer vigils and candles.  I remember as if it were yesterday when 9/11 happened – within hours we knew – we just knew – that we had to worship.  The sanctuary was packed.    On March 19, 2003 when the United States declared war on Iraq – again, where were we but in the sanctuary praying and singing songs of peace.  When the shootings happened at Virginia Tech – that Wednesday night, some of you were here with us in our Chapel, lighting candles, singing, and coming to the Lord’s Table.  February 27, 2012 – not even a year ago – it was a Monday – our Young Disciples were here at church as soon as school was over for the day.  Tomorrow evening – again, we will gather.

We are hesitant to call such occasions of being together rejoicing.  But that is what we are doing.  Rejoicing not in the circumstances that brought us here – of course not – rather we are rejoicing that we can find each other – we can connect with another human heart – at the intersection of our connection through Christ. At the prayer vigil at St, Rose Catholic Church in Newtown, the sanctuary was full and hundreds of people who couldn’t get in stood silently outside, holding hands, praying as a group.  Monsignor Robert Weiss said – many of us today and in the coming days will rely on what we have been taught and what we believe, that there is faith for a reason.  

A mother from Chardon said:  The vigils and church gatherings were the most powerful step in healing – no matter what the faith.  We learned that though God cannot always keep our children safe, God will be there to help us through each step beyond.

Rejoice, again I say rejoice.

So we light the Joy candle – even if we’re not feeling particularly joyful.  Because that is what we do here.  And with each word spoken and note sung and handshake exchanged and prayer offered – we search together for that intersection where we connect with each other in our search to connect with Jesus Christ.

You can believe in God all by yourself.  But once we profess Jesus, we can’t be a solo Christian. Who would want to be?   Because the real heart and substance of the Christian life is not private –it is communal.  It’s meant to be shared. And not just with each other who are already here – I know there is someone you know who yearns for such a connection.   To have a reason to rejoice.

As many of you know, we have a family in our church right now with a really tough situation going on.  Bonnie and Russ Goldner’s 13 year old grandson, Andrew Bobbitt has already had one brain surgery with more surgeries to come.  He’s out of ICU but not out of danger.  He’s doing well in rehab but has much further to go.  I hope you are reading his mother’s updates on Caring Bridge.  I want to read an excerpt of one of them because it describes perfectly the sort of rejoicing through tough circumstances that Paul is talking about:

We have a lot of time to think and pray and through this I realize there are very distinct journeys going on.  The most significant is Andrew’s journey. There is the family’s journey. And, there is also the journey that each of our friends and those in the community both known to us and unknown are taking with Andrew. We feel the love and support and at times it overwhelms us and brings us to our knees. As a parent, you love your child unconditionally and whole heartedly.  When you see and feel the overwhelming support for your child from outside your family circle, it is beyond uplifting.

This is going to take a long while and we don’t actually know where we’re going.  But, we know that wherever we get to, it’s where we are supposed to be, because God will get us there. Andrew never has a bad day, and when this is all a distant memory he will share why even this was a good day too.

It’s nice to know that outside of these hospital walls there is a village looking out for us. I also know for every one of you I hear from there are 2 more that don’t  know what to say, or are struggling with dilemmas of their own- we hear you too, and pray that you find comfort in whatever challenges you face.

Hug your kids and your parents for me.  Tomorrow is another day in the journey…  Jenny Bobbitt

All journeys lead to the intersection where God’s people meet each other while also encountering Christ.

I truly believe that we can be happy – or sad – all by ourselves.  But to rejoice?  For that, we need each other. 

Rev. Kristine Eggert

Disciples Christian Church

December 16, 2012

What if the ending of the classic movie, Gone With the Wind, had been re-written?  What if the final scene with the line Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn had instead been a scene where Rhett strides back into Tara professing his love for Scarlett, and they walked off into the sunset together?  An alternative ending could have happened if the movie had been made today instead of in 1939.  Today many movies are put before preview target audiences first – audiences who are then watched and asked about their reactions to the ending.   Sometimes the ending is changed.

It’s rumored that J.K. Rowling wrote an alternative ending to the final chapter in the Harry Potter series – an alternative ending in which Lord Voldemort lives rather than dies.  An alternative ending that flashes forward even further into the adult life of Harry and his young co-horts and finds that in 2030 Harry is (a very old) headmaster at Hogwarts, Ginny has turned herself into a bird who doesn’t grow old, and all memory of Voldemort and his dark days has been long erased.  The story ends with hints that Harry’s great, great grandson may be the next great dark wizard.  Would that ending have pleased or angered the millions who sat with their popcorn and watched.

Ernest Hemmingway re-wrote the final page of A Farewell to Arms 39 times before he was satisfied.  When asked in an interview what it was that stumped him the first 38 times, Hemingway said:  I just needed to get the words right.   And, it is a very common exercise in writing classes for aspiring writers, to be given an assignment of rewriting the ending to Flannery O’Connor’s famous short story, A Good Man is Hard to Find.

How does one go about writing the perfect ending?  What makes it perfect?  Is a perfect ending one that makes everybody happy?  One that ties up all loose ends?

Which brings us to the Gospel of Mark! The gospel writer who has in his hands The Greatest Story Ever Told and this is his idea of the perfect ending? The other gospels do it so much better. Matthew describes the first Easter morning as beginning with an earthquake and an angel coming down from heaven to roll the stone away and sits on it, when suddenly Jesus appears. Matthew has people running to tell the good news.   In the Gospel of Luke, the stone has already been rolled away, and there are 2 men sitting inside the tomb.  And Peter goes inside and sees the linen burial cloths all folded.  And then Luke continues the story with Jesus appearing on the Road to Emmaus to the disciples.  In John – perhaps the most beautiful telling of Resurrection story, with Mary at the tomb, and Jesus calling her name, and Mary recognizing who he is, I have seen the Lord. And on the same day, there he is for Thomas to put his hands in his wounds to know that it was him.

And Mark?  Mark starts out in the usual way – it’s early Sunday morning, it’s dark, the women are going to the tomb to tend to Jesus’ body, the stone is rolled away, they get word that Jesus has been raised, they’re sent back to tell.  Except they didn’t.  Say anything to anyone.  There’s no body.  We don’t get to see Jesus, and the women fail in their mission.  There you have it – a resurrection scene without Jesus that ends in failure.  What can we possibly do with that?

We could write an alternative ending — and someone actually did that, though it’s generally disputed that it was Mark who added it.  The alternative ending just doesn’t sound like Mark who begins and ends the story of our savior in less than satisfying fashion.  If we are looking for shepherds and angels and a babe in the manger and appearances of Jesus after his death, we won’t find them in Mark.

But what Mark does for us is to give us space.  And voice.  If the women are silent and terrified, then someone has to tell the good news.  It’s up to us.  If anyone is to know, we must be the ones to proclaim that He Lives.

Clarence Jordan says it this way:  The proof that God raised Jesus from the dead is not the empty tomb, but the full hearts of his transformed disciples.  The crowning evidence that he lives in not a vacant grave, but a spirit-filled fellowship.  Not a rolled-away stone, but a carried-away church.

Mark has given us a precious gift on this Easter morning, April 8, 2012.  He has given us space to write more chapters.  The women’s silence at the tomb creates room for God’s voice to be heard about all others.  The absence of a body opens our minds to what God’s presence might actually look like.

Mark left it open-ended expecting our input.  Jesus left us with the Holy Spirit to encourage it.  And through God’s grace, we have more life left in us and a story to tell.  It’s less about the perfect ending and more about the perfect beginning.

He Lives!  Who will you tell?  

He Lives?  What can that mean for your life?

Happy Easter.  Alleleuia.  Christ is Risen.  Christ is Risen Indeed.  Alleluia!

Pastor Kris

Preparing the Way of the Lord sounds lofty and poetic, but in reality that preparation can be menial and routine, and seem exhausting and never-ending.  Even our Young Disciples get into the act.  There’s much to do to prepare for Palm Sunday, Pastor’s Class baptisms, Holy Week, and Easter.  

Like those first disciples who had orders to go and fetch that donkey for the Parade into Jerusalem, maybe we thought serving Jesus would be more glamorous.  Or if not more glamorous, maybe we thought it would be easier, or at least part-time, and scheduled for our own convenience!

I thank God for the amount of effort put forth by so many people at Disciples Christian Church so we could Prepare the Way of the Lord for three worship services, an Easter Egg Hunt, and an all-church luncheon.  It was a wonderful Palm Sunday. We do love a parade!

Were you aware that there were two parades in Jerusalem that day?  The Jesus parade that we model each year was approaching Jerusalem from the east.

The other parade came from the west.  It was the Roman Army parade.  Coming to maintain order during Passover – a time when the population of Jerusalem would swell from around 50,000 to well over 200,000 – and those are probably conservative estimates.  In addition to the groundswell of people, Passover was a celebration of liberation, and liberation celebrations made the powers that be in Rome nervous every year. And so from the west, marched the Roman Army.  No doubt an imposing sight.   Roman flags flying, the Roman eagle prominently displayed, the clank of armor, the stomp of feet, and the beating of drums.  A parade designed to be a display of Roman imperial power.  A parade whose message was clear:  Resist at your own risk!

And yet, there is this counter-demonstration coming from the east with Jesus as parade marshal, riding in on a donkey.  Cheering crowds went ahead of him clearing the way and hailing his presence.

As with any parade, there’s planning that goes on behind the scenes.  Mark (Read Mark 11:1-11) gives us a glimpse into some of that in his very detailed reporting of securing Jesus’ ride.  Just before Jesus makes his final approach to Jerusalem, he sends two of his disciples to a nearby village with explicit instructions to find a particular donkey.  And if anyone asked why they were taking that particular donkey that didn’t belong to them, they were to give the secret password code of The Lord needs it.

Who knows that those two disciples were thinking having been given these instructions?  We don’t know exactly which disciples these were, but imagine if they were James and John who only hours before had suggested to Jesus that they wanted positions of power – one at his right hand, one at his left – but it really doesn’t matter which two they were.  All the disciples had been jockeying for advantage, angling for glory, arguing over who was the greatest.  And now here they are mucking around in donkey doo, looking suspiciously like horse thieves.  And did you catch that this was a colt that had never been ridden?   Can you say feisty??

Why does Mark spend so much time describing the donkey details – remember Mark is often spare with details.  Is it to warn us that preparing the way of the Lord is going to be filled with gritty details?

I repeat:  Preparing the way of the Lord often sounds more poetic than it really is.

And yet, it was those same disciples on donkey dispatch who were also sent out to proclaim the good news of the gospel.  They cast out demons.  They healed the sick.  They exercised authority in Jesus’ name.  They figured out how to be like Jesus – even after Jesus was no longer there to show them.  They received the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.  They birthed the church as we know it today – the body of Christ.  They endured persecution for their efforts.  And they remained faithful.  They prepared the way of the Lord  – and if they had not, we would not be here. 

They had no idea what to expect when they were called away from their fishing nets, what it would mean to follow or how much work would be involved in preparing the way.  How exhausted they must have felt at the end of some days.  How conflicted they may have been sometimes about what they were being asked to do.   But neither did they have any idea of the transformation that would come, the miracles they would see, the justice they would seek, and the mercy they would be shown.

There were two parades that day in Jerusalem.  One of power and established authority and a God-less outlook on life.  Might and majesty and muscle.  The other was a ragtag bunch of Jesus’ supporters operating well under the radar.   Persons not in power – persons not even seeking power – rather persons seeking a better life by seeking after the Son of God, The Messiah.  They didn’t know exactly what that meant, but they were eager to experience the transformation he promised in a world of justice and peace – so very different from the world in which they lived — with a place at the table for everyone, including them.

Assuming you feel called to follow the Jesus Parade, how are you being called to Prepare the Way of the Lord?

I hope wherever you are this week that you will seek a place to worship on Thursday for a remembrance of the Last Supper and on Friday to reflect on Jesus’ death on the cross.  We will meet at Disciples at 7:30 on Thursday evening, and I will participate in a “Seven Last Words of Christ” ecumenical service on Friday from Noon to 3.  To be prepared for our roles as disciples, we mustn’t go from the Parade to the Empty Tomb of Easter morning without a stop or two along the way.

Blessings –

Pastor Kris