Preaching and Teaching

Pastor, Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, D.C.
November 23, 2008

Text: Matthew 25:31-46

One of the things I love about teenagers is their intuitive, keen sensitivity to injustice and unfairness. If there is a double standard, a fudging of rules or any other unfairness, teenagers notice it instantly. The rest of us may not see it. Teenagers do. As a result, when it comes to many issues, they should be our moral compass.

One of the things I already regret is that after I retire in three years, our large number of young kids at Western will grow up to be high school students. I would love to be around to learn what they identify as fundamentally unfair about the way this congregation operates. Because I guarantee they will see things none of us currently see. They will be major pains in your ecclesiastical necks.

My daughter, now 32, and I used to have a classic discussion when she was in high school. She would come home enraged about some gross injustice at school. She would tell me how unfair whatever “it” was. We would talk about how she and her friends might address it. Then I would usually say, “Rachel, I love your ability to see unfairness. Never lose that ability. It is a gift. That being said, who ever told you life is fair? Because it wasn’t me!” With that my wife would say, “Oh no, here we go” and Rachel and I would have one of our favorite, heated debates.

As I read Scripture, I never hear God predicting that the game of life will be dominated by fairness. Indeed, from beginning to end, Scripture portrays a world in which unfairness and injustice dominates the affairs of human beings. What was fair about the Hebrew people ending up in slavery, having to endure a brutal trek across the Sinai Desert? What was more unfair than Jesus being crucified for the crime of proclaiming God loves everyone? What was fair about the early church being persecuted for its beliefs? Through its stories, the bible warns us that life was not, is not, and never will be totally fair.

What is fair today about an immigrant family believing a banker who tells the family they can have a mortgage and later, when the deal goes sour, the family gets evicted and the banker gets a bailout? What is fair about the people of Iraq enduring a vicious dictator and then having a civil war erupt upon the advent of their supposed liberation? What is fair about Ethiopia being one of the nations with the world’s smallest number of healthcare professionals? What is fair about a faithful spouse having an unfaithful partner?

Nothing. No, I see little in Scripture suggesting that life is governed by fairness. However, since we believe God is just, the omnipresence of unfairness in life creates a significant theological problem. If what we see on earth is all there is, then it is hard to proclaim God as just. If God allows so much unfairness to go unchecked, how can God be just?

Let us turn to our Gospel lesson some help in unpacking this problem. In Matthew 25, we hear Jesus describe a judgement in which those creating life’s unfairness, injustice and lack of compassion are held accountable for their actions or inactions. I would submit that the only way to proclaim fairness and justice as victorious is for such a judgment to take place after life, when all is said and done.

In his beautifully crafted story, Jesus describes a God who judges us by our actions on earth, not our beliefs. God doesn’t care how righteous we are or whether we pray more than the next person or whether we believe the doctrine of the Trinity. God is focused solely on how we respond to those who suffer because of life on earth’s inherent unfairness. God judges us based on whether or not we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit folks in prison and sit with the dying, to name a few.

In a harsh judgement, the God of this story casts people into the abyss. The harshness is quite a contrast with the God Jesus normally proclaimed. But Jesus simply used judgement day imagery his listeners would have expected.

I say the imagery is a stark contrast because at the heart of Jesus’ worldview is a loving divine parent, not a wrathful God. This loving parent is filled with forgiveness—leaving ninety nine sheep to find one lost sheep, welcoming back a prodigal child, forgiving seven times seventy.

From beginning to end, Jesus’ message is about a God whose love knows no limits. Why would this unlimited, unconditional love suddenly stop the day we die? Why would our divine parent stop caring for, stop loving, stop trying to redeem us once we come before the judgement seat? Such a notion is totally incongruent with Jesus’ ministry and message. But while God’s judgement will end with reconciliation between God and humanity, make no mistake about it, come to the judgement seat each of us will.

As a child or youth, when I went to my parents to confess some major mess up, and those moments were legion, as they say, I dreaded the moment of confession more than the punishment. Indeed, the punishment was a piece of cake compared to standing before my parents and admitting what I had done or not done.

So, I believe, it will be with God. Nothing God could do to me might be as painful as looking God in the eye and admitting my sins. I hate even thinking about it.

When I am accused of being a universalist, which is one of the nicer things of which I am accused, I say the following. “I am a universalist in the sense that I believe God has a universal standard by which we will all be judged and a universal grace by which we will all be saved and welcomed back into the household of God.”

Standing before God, admitting all the injustices and unfairness I have done or allowed is hell enough. Having God point out my many sins of which I was not even aware, as happens to the characters in Matthew 25, is hell enough for me. If I could avoid that confrontation with/ judgement by a just God, I would gladly go directly to the sweltering place of which Dante wrote so extravagantly.

But I can’t avoid it and neither can you. A judgement on our lives will take place and, as such, it the basis upon which we can proclaim that justice prevails. When the divine judgement takes place, the scales of justice are rebalanced and life becomes perfectly and totally fair. No deed, no word goes unjudged.

Our judgement before Almighty God is totally transparent. No one’s deeds get covered by the darkness. There is no second copy of the books. No one finds a loophole. No one pulls a fast one. The best lawyer in town can’t change the verdict. There are no appeals.

So when viewed from God’s perspective, life is fair—completely, totally. God makes it so with a divine judgement. But life as you and I experience it is not. No way. If we expect life to be fair, we will be sorely disappointed and become deeply cynical.

Nonetheless, while life isn’t fair, life does have its temporal judgements. Ask Adolph Hitler who died not as the ruler of the Aryan race but as a cowardly rat trapped in a bunker. Ask all of us as we breathe polluted air and eat food grown in polluted soil. Ask the person whose spouse divorces him or her because she or he was a lousy spouse. Ask the employee who gets fired for stealing. Yes, there are many judgements on earth.

Right now, we, as a people, are experiencing one of those earthly judgements—a re-balancing and re-setting of the scales of justice. The people condemned in Matthew 25 were guilty of looking the other way when they saw suffering. We are experiencing a judgement on our willingness to look the other way while a relatively small group of people lined their pockets. However, we are suffering not just because they filled their pockets. We are suffering because many of us got our pockets lined to a lesser degree. As our net personal worth rose, we quietly decided, “This can’t be all bad.”

For lack of a better word, greed prevailed. A pie was being carved up and we wanted at least a small piece of it. We decided that if a few could get billions, maybe a lot of us could get thousands.

So we disregarded obvious problems. The values of our houses and stocks went up in ways we knew were crazy and unsustainable. We watched as our federal tax load was reduced even as federal deficits went up. When one bubble would pop, we would say it was a fluke and jump into another bubble.

As happens when judgements take place, the verdict is accompanied by some very painful consequences. For many of us, it is coming in the forms of reduced financial security and reworked vocational options. For many others, it is coming in much more draconian forms: unemployment, postponed medical treatments, eviction, personal bankruptcy.

As the dust of this collective judgement settles, we find ourselves becoming as finely tuned as teenagers to the presence of unfairness and injustice. As word spread of the auto executives’ corporate jets landing at National Airport, everyone except the executives instantly realized it was an outrage. As word spread of post-bailout AIG executives continuing to engage in luxurious lifestyles, everyone instantly saw it for what it was.

This stuff has been going on for decades. But as long as it didn’t bother us, we did nothing about it. But, please, let us not try what the characters in Matthew 25 tried: “Lord, when did we see them flying around in corporate jets, making millions of dollars annually, robbing the pension funds of line workers?” No, let us stand here today like Christians and say, “God, we saw it and we looked the other way. We knew things were wrong and we did nothing. Some of us even benefited. God, we offer no excuses for what has taken place in this country.”

Having confessed our lax approach to injustice, let us get about the business of fixing what is broken. There is so much work to do. The only other options are vengeance and whining neither of which help anything.

I was delighted this week to see one of our national leaders finally set a healthy model by not seeking vengeance. In not destroying Senator Lieberman’s influence in the Senate, President-elect Obama challenged what has become business as usual in Washington—destroy those who do you harm. Carry a grudge. Get even. All of us need to follow our new President’s example. This is the change we need.

As for whining, back in the seventies, Saturday Night Live used to have very popular sketches about the Whiner Family. I hated it and couldn’t watch them. It was way too irritating. I see nothing funny about whining. It accomplishes absolutely nothing. By the way, one of my goals here at Western has been to make this place a whine-free zone. To a large degree, we have succeeded.

While God will make life fair on our judgement day, life on earth isn’t always fair. Simple as that. But life on earth is always good.

As we turn our attention away from buying ever more material things because we can no longer afford them, as we turn our attention away from accumulating ever more wealth because it isn’t possible right now, we see sitting before us glimmering, glittering treasures too many of us have been ignoring—our families, our friends, our church members our neighbors. We see a creation so beautiful its sunsets and changing seasons still take our breath away. We see galleries filled with works of art that still our troubled souls. We see books filled with stories that make us laugh and cry. We see life filled with more vocational possibilities than any one of us can exhaust. And yes, we see a loving, forgiving God.

As with all crises, this time of crisis is forcing us back to core values and core relationships. It is there, in our relationships and values, that we will find the meaning of life. It is there we will find our God.

I have a feeling this Thanksgiving is going to be one of the sweetest, warmest, best Thanksgivings ever. As we gather together to ask God’s blessing, we are a grateful people not because every day of life is fair. We are grateful because every day of life God is good and so are we. Happy Thanksgiving.

Let us pray: Gracious and Good God, we live in expectation of your judgement on our lives. We welcome it as the last step before we are forgiven and allowed to enter your Presence for eternity. As we move toward that moment, help us to keep our eyes and hearts open so that we can respond to the needs of those around us—the hungry and full, the hopeless and hopeful. For we know that as we care for others, we care for you. All this we pray in Jesus’ precious name. Amen.

Pastor, Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, D.C.
November 16, 2008

Text: Matthew 25:14-30

Several years ago, when I was reading The Onion, the humor news magazine, there was a headline that said: “Jesus denies having anything to do with middle manager’s promotion.” The article contained the picture of a white man, in a suit, smiling meekly, and it went on to explain in detail how a manager got a promotion, and thanked Jesus that he made it happen. But, according to the sources at The Onion, Jesus denied the claim, saying that he had nothing to do with the promotion. At the time in question, Jesus was actually in Calcutta, with starving children.”

I not only laughed at the article, but I quoted it many, many times. It fit in line with my theology. God was interested in the big things, things of vast historical significance. God was interested in important people on the timeline that allowed history to move forward. God was certainly with Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Jr, Mother Theresa, and Dorothy Day. God was concerned with suffering on the large scale. God was not interested in a middle-class man and the travails of his career. God really would have nothing to do with someone who may have some existential difficulties, but is otherwise comfortable.

I imagined God as someone who prioritizes wisely, who aids and helps those in big need, and my prayers would reflect that. I would pray for the large things, global issues, but rarely the small things that burdened my life or the lives of the people around me.

I often prayed about my career, but that was mostly just to make me feel better internally. Prayer is an important way to verbalize concerns, needs, and worries. I believe it is psychologically beneficial for most people, but I never really thought that God was tuning in. I assumed–and even hoped–that God had better things to do than worry about my piddly job.

If there is one thing about my theology that has changed in the ten years since I becoming a pastor, it’s this. I have learned that God is not just a God of big things. God is very much interested in the small things.

I learned it as I watch individuals struggle to end difficult marriages, find healing after sexual abuse, or learn to manage their depression so that it does not overcome their lives. I have seen it as individuals overcome addiction to alcohol, drugs, or medications. I have seen it as people begin to try and make sense of their financial situations, and they do not understand the spiritual significance that money has in their lives, until they begin to pray about it.

All of these things seem so small in the grand scale of the world. And yet, I am amazed how many times people tell me that God gave them the strength to make it through.

And I have seen miraculous things happening, not only in our personal relationships, our careers, and our spiritual lives, but I have also realized that many of the large issues in our society, and even our world, often have small solutions.

God is a God of small things. We see this at work in the parable from Matthew’s gospel. Jesus tells a story about a man who had three servants. The man gave the three servants money, or “talents.” Two of them worked with what they had, trading it and doubling the money. The third servant became fearful and worried, he didn’t start a new business with it; he didn’t put it in the bank. He didn’t want to take any risks, so he just buried the money in the ground.

In response, the man who owned the money put the two men who doubled their profits in charge of even more money. And he took the money away from the third servant.

I have heard this story told so many different ways, and people often get different things out of it. People who read the wise narrative of Jesus often identify with different characters in the story.

I had a friend, a pastor of a large prestigious church, who identified with the master, the man with the money. And so one Sunday morning, he passed out a twenty-dollar bill to each person in the congregation, and gave them six months.

The next time I went to the church, the space where they have coffee hour was filled with amazing crafts, photographs, paintings, and all of this art. Different people in the congregation took their twenty, bought supplies, and they were making artwork in order to double their money. When I saw the amazing creativity, I applauded my colleague. I’m not sure what the church made with that initial investment, but I’m quite sure they did well.

I don’t have twenty-dollar bills for you this morning. And, actually, that’s not the part of the story I’m interested in right now. I guess because when I read this parable, I usually identify with the servant. With the perspective of the servant, I realize that we have each been given things. Granted, some of us have been given more than others–more opportunities, more talent, more intelligence, more advantages. But that’s not important. The point is what we do with what we have been given.

Will we use it? Will we be wise with it? Will we recognize what we have and try to make the most of it? Because, to me, what comes across in this parable is that God is interested in the servant. God wants to know what happened to that little bit that was entrusted to us. And, as I read Jesus’ words, I have the sense that if we tend to make the most of what we have, that will lead to big things. Yet, in this parable, we learn that God is a God of small things. God is interested in what the servants do with we have.

This is an amazing moment in history. Not only has a glimmer Martin Luther King’s dream been realized, but we have also seen a generation of motivated and organized young adults who are not hindered by the prejudices of the past, and they’re willing to work hard for change. This is an important moment, a joyful, exciting moment of change.

And yet, I know what can happen when we focus all of our attentions on the task of changing the world. It is so easy to get overwhelmed. We just don’t know where to begin. There is a danger that we can become quickly frustrated, disenfranchised, and burnt-out.

When I was in college, I began working in Cabrini Green, with after-school programs, helping children to have a safe place to play basketball and four-square. A place where they new that their tennis shoes would not be stolen, and they could wear any color t-shirt without the threat of gang retaliation. I worked for years there, until I began to go grocery shopping for the elderly people in the projects. I would drop off the bags of groceries, and they would yell at me for getting the wrong brand of tuna.

I worked in Uganda, when the AIDS epidemic was at its peak and people were still trying to pull their lives back together, a decade after Idi Amin. I preached in churches and taught in schools, always with the feeling like the problems were always so much larger than my words.

Then I went to seminary. I went there for a lot of reasons, but most of all, I went with that small hope that my life would help to make a difference in the world. When I took my first pastorate, I worked in Cajun Louisiana, serving a tiny little church, and dedicating a portion of my workweek, to make sure that elderly African Americans in the community got police protection. And, I continued to work with teenagers and children.

Through all of that time, I waited for the right job. The big job. The real job. The one that I could have so that I could start really making a difference. I was frustrated that doors seemed to open easily for other people. I wanted to do something that mattered with my life.

Then, right about this point in the timeline, something changed. I cannot tell you the earth-shattering event that happened. I just know that there was a gentle shift. It was a shift in my theology, that affected my practice.

You see, I think the problem I was having was that I could not see God in the small things. I forgot that God was interested in the servant with one talent. I was stuck in thinking that God was only the God of the big things.

The difficulty with that line of reasoning was I thought that the only way to do something with lasting significance, to make the world a better place, was to become someone I’m not. I forgot to look around me and see some importance in what I can do with what I have. I could not see that what I was doing at work everyday mattered. In some small way. I was feeling burnt-out, because I could not see the significance in getting one talent and having two by the end of the year.

I didn’t realize that it is often the small things that make a big difference. It is that one girl who can tell you that she’s pregnant, so that she can have the courage to tell her parents. It is in making sure that the basketballs are available for after-school programs. It is in making sure that the police chief knows that he will be accountable to the pastor in the tiny downtown church if no one answers the calls that come from a particular part of town.

I knew that justice often rolls down like mighty waters, like an ever-flowing stream. But what I had not yet learned was that justice sometimes drips like an annoying faucet. And often that tiny little drip is enough to make any master get up to turn off the faucet. Now, I have a different way of looking at things. I have begun to understand that we have a God of small things, and I ask God each and every day, “What is my next step?”

We are in an important moment in history. We have two huge generations in our country. Some of the Baby Boomers who are getting ready for retirement are realizing that they are not ready for retirement. People in your sixties are in great shape, with huge amounts of energy, and thirty years ahead of you. And many of you are entering a discernment process, trying to figure out how you can make the years ahead significant. How you can continue to change the world.

And we have the millennials, people who are 25 and under. A generation that is much bigger than the Boomers. Many of you are facing economic difficulties, student loans, and a tight job market. You are sorting out what you want to do with their lives. But it is clear that you want to change the world. And I, of course would not want to leave my own generation out of this. The scrappy and innovative Xers, many of us who have been working for change.

Often people with progressive values look at complex issues of a society systemically. We have that longing, the urging to make a difference about poverty, hunger, homelessness, medical care. We are concerned about the environment, AIDS, and education. And yet, with that big picture in mind, we can forget that our small work matters.

God is a God of small things. And we have each been given talents. We have each been given a passion, a calling to make this a better place. And now we can go out, asking what our next step is.

To the glory of God, our Creator,
God our Liberator,
and God our Sustainer. Amen.

Pastor, Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, D.C.
November 9, 2008

Text: I Samuel 9:24b-10:1a

The dream is no longer deferred. The dream is no longer denied. The dream is being realized before our very eyes. We see it embodied in an African American as President-elect. We saw it in a woman and man battling it out for the Democratic nomination for President. We see it as women and people of different cultures and colors fill positions that used to be reserved for white males—in business, government, non-profits and religious groups. We see it as younger generations move into positions of power and responsibility—infusing our nation with new ideas, new energy, new vision.

And the dream is being realized as the result of efforts by so many people past and present. This week we have all listened to the stories about those who made this moment possible, many of them moving us to tears. Some of the stories are about civil rights champions—courageous people ranging from Frederick Douglass and Harriett Tubman to activists who stood up to segregation in the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s. There are lots of inspirational stories about today’s college students and young adults under 30 some of whom have never been involved in the political process before. And then there are the Gen Xers, Boomers and Builders who doubled, tripled down on the already hard work they were doing to create a just and sustainable world.

My favorite stories were about the low profile people who made Tuesday possible. An 86-year-old African American woman went to early voting two weeks ago in one of the southern states. After four hours of standing in line, she had to go home. Her knees wouldn’t hold up any more. Did she miss her chance to cast a historic ballot? Not a chance. The next day she came back with a chair. She was not to be denied her role in making history.

So many people contributed in so many ways. It made the phrase “we the people” take on new meaning.

On the long, tiring, sometimes discouraging trek to peace and justice, we need inspiring moments such as this moment—to refresh our spirits, validate our vision. Senator McCain gracefully and beautifully acknowledged the importance of the moment in his concession speech. The crowd in Grant Park reveled in it. But the ultimate testimony to what we are experiencing were the tears flowing down the cheeks of Americans and people around the world—tears of joy, tears washing away decades of embitterment, tears of sadness for those who didn’t live to see this happen, tears of astonished, reborn hope.

The victory doesn’t brush away the ugly, racist things said about Senator Obama, the outrageous sexism hurled at Senator Clinton and Governor Palin or the ageist comments about Senator McCain. Racism, sexism, homophobia, ageism—they will probably never disappear from history. But there are moments when they are overcome. This election season provided such moments in abundance.

Tuesday didn’t brush away the hate spewed daily from people like Rush Limbaugh or the divisive, gutter tactics routinely employed in our elections. It didn’t brush away the deep ditch into which we have driven our national car. The victory wasn’t a cure-all.

But the continuing presence of profound problems cannot cloud what we have accomplished as a people. We have done good. We have given the world and ourselves a sign that in this nation, everything is possible. Everything.And continuing challenges cannot cloud the fact that God, once again, has been vindicated. God tells us that things will get better. And they do. God tells us that justice prevails. And it does.

Now, as we look forward to an Obama presidency, I would like us to pause and look back; back thousands of years to the beginning of the Saul administration.

We know little of Saul prior to his elevation as the first king of Israel. From that, we can conclude that there probably wasn’t much to know. The author of I Samuel records that God spoke to the prophet Samuel, instructing him to find and anoint Saul King.

At first, this passage seems like an unequivocal endorsement of Israel’s monarchy. However, if we read not just this passage but the entire succession narrative in the books of Samuel and Kings, we begin to sense profound ambivalence about the establishment of the monarchy. The author of the narrative, like every historian, was looking back. He had seen the future, as it were, and it didn’t turn out as everyone had hoped. In fact, many biblical scholars think the author decided the establishment of the monarchy was a huge mistake.

Kings Saul and David turned out to be very flawed individuals. While they helped build Israel into a modest regional power, they also kept injecting their own personal stuff into the body politic—sexual affairs, political maneuvering, petty jealousies. Sound familiar? Dismayed by the personal issues of Israel’s first two kings, the authors of the succession narrative raised very subtle but very real questions as to whether or not the monarchy should have been created and kings viewed as anointed by Almighty God. Rather than seeing the leaders as divinely appointed, perhaps, they hint, it would have been better to view them as what they were: human leaders capable of wondrous good, dastardly evil and much in between.

Israel set Saul and David up for failure when they anointed them as God’s chosen leaders. Their rulers were not selected by God. They were selected by a people in search of leadership.

I worry that we have continued the same practice. We set our leaders up to fail. Placing them on pedestals, we have expectations for them that no human being can meet. As a result, we curse them to near certain failure.

Barack Hussein Obama is a human being. Gifted. Visionary. Skilled. Best of all, he will be our first President who is younger than Madonna! But President-elect Obama is first and foremost a human being. He cannot solve all of our problems any more than Saul or David could solve all the problems the people of Israel faced.

He has not been anointed by God to be President. He has been elected by we the people. We need to remind ourselves of that daily.

We need to protect him from some of his followers who have anointed him as our savior. For they will surely try to destroy him when he turns out to be not a savior but a human leader.

Another word of caution: If we are to move forward, we will do so only as a people. President-elect Obama was elected in large part because he appealed to our higher angels. He told us that we can do great things if we will put aside things that don’t matter and work together on things that do matter. Actually, we will also have to put aside some things that matter very much to us.

I am fascinated by the reaction of many progressives to President-elect Obama’s election. They are saying, “Now we can finally get what we want. We can end the war in Iraq, put our type of judges on the Supreme Court, pass our favorite pieces of legislation.”

But if we are going to rebuild these United States, the new house can’t be painted blue. Because, as a people, we aren’t blue. We are red and blue and lots of combined variations.

If we are truly going to work together, progressives are not going to get everything we want. Period. If insist on our way, we will totally and completely enrage conservatives. They will see our call to a less partisan approach to governance as a sham. And they will be correct.

The progressive agenda for the immediate future has to be about finding a way to work and govern with centrists and reasonable conservatives. We need to carve out the common ground that, too many times over the past forty years, has been burned to the ground by dogmatists on the right and left. And every time anything has started to regrow on that common ground, these same dogmatists have re-burned it before anything could mature. After all, there is nothing more threatening to a dogmatist than non-dogmatic hearts and minds coming together in a compromise.

The time has come to nurture and treasure common ground for what it is—the place where a peaceful and just future can be built. And who better to till that sacred soil than people of faith like you and me? Who better to protect it than you and me?

In a 1865 speech entitled “What does the Negro Want?” Frederick Douglass said to a group in Boston, “Everybody has asked the question, and they learned to ask it early of the abolitionists, “What shall we do with the Negro?” I have had but one answer from the beginning. Do nothing with us! Your doing with us has already played the mischief with us. Do nothing with us! …All I ask is, give (the Negro) a chance to stand on his own legs! Let him alone! If you see him on his way to school, let him alone, don’t disturb him! If you see him going to the dinner table at a hotel, let him go! If you see him going to the ballot-box, let him alone, don’t disturb him! If you see him going into a work-shop, just let him alone—your interference is doing him a positive injury. …If you will only untie his hands, and give him a chance, I think he will live. He will work as readily for himself as the white man.”

Eight years later in 1873, Susan B. Anthony traveled the country giving a rousing stump speech: “Friends and fellow citizens: I stand before you tonight under indictment for the alleged crime of having voted at the last presidential election, without having a lawful right to vote. It shall be my work this evening to prove to you that in thus voting, I not only committed no crime, but, instead, simply exercised my citizen’s rights, guaranteed to me and all United States citizens by the National Constitution, beyond the power of any state to deny…. Webster, Worcester, and Bouvier all define a citizen to be a person in the United States, entitled to vote and hold office. The only question left to be settled now is: Are women persons? And I hardly believe any of our opponents will have the hardihood to say they are not. Being persons, then, women are citizens; and no state has a right to make any law, or to enforce any old law, that shall abridge their privileges or immunities. Hence, every discrimination against women in the constitutions and laws of the several states is today null and void, precisely as is every one against Negroes.”

Although both are wonderful, the great gift of our nation to the world is neither democracy nor entrepreneurial capitalism. It is the unleashing of human potential as described by people like Douglass and Anthony.

Our nation has sinned as much as any in limiting human potential. However, we have succeeded, perhaps more than any, in removing the arbitrary and unjust constraints we humans place on one another. As we have implemented the vision of God’s prophets—Douglass, Anthony, Harriet Tubman, Dr. King, Cesar Chavez and so many others, we have allowed people to develop their God-given gifts. We have increasingly treated all women and men as persons, breaking the human-made shackles with which we enslave one another.

This is the common ground upon which we must stand. Our destiny as a nation is to allow each of our citizens to realize his or her God-given potential, fulfill her or his aspirations, to seize the opportunities which life places before us. Therefore, whether we are Democrat or Republican, conservative, centrist or progressive, January 20^th will be a day to celebrate long and hard.

I have already identified the moment I will treasure most that day. It will come late at night when Barack, Michelle, Malia and Sasha go to bed, turn out the lights and realize that the White House is now their home. As they do so, that house and this nation will become home to each and every American in a new and magnificent way. Thanks be to God.

Let us pray: Gracious God, life is filled with many challenges and tragedies. However, it is also filled with sublime moments when we see the world the way you created it to be. May our current moment bring us together as a people in a new and holy way. What you have put together, let no human dare put asunder. All this we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Pastor, Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, D.C.
November 2, 2008

Text: Luke 13:6-9

A few weeks ago, I preached a sermon about the need to face reality in our lives. Today, I want to talk about the flip side of that coin. It is beautifully described by Lawrence Ferlinghetti in his little poem “The Pennycandystore Beyond the El.” He writes,

The pennycandystore beyond the El
is where I first
fell in love
with unreality
Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom
of that September afternoon
A cat upon the counter moved among
the licorice sticks
and tootsie rolls
and Oh Boy Gum
Outside the leaves were falling as they died

At the heart of a faithful life is an ability to face hard cold realities and simultaneously remain a dreamer; to deal directly with reality but fall in love with unreality, as Ferlinghetti puts it. Such a balance is what we are trying to do here at Western Church.

Surely, we face head-on some of the toughest realities of our city and world. For twenty-five years, we have fed the homeless, Monday through Friday, rain or shine, freezing cold or sultry hot. Because this work is a tough reality, the staff and volunteer turnover is relatively high. But while the faces feeding the homeless and the faces walking up to the window to be fed change, Western has remained a constant.

We have taken on racism. A while back, we looked at the Presbytery’s new church developments and noticed that all these new congregations were being planted in predominately white suburbs, headed by white pastors. So we decided to plant a church in Prince Georges County with African American leadership. It is the first Afrocentric new church development in this Presbytery’s history. It has grown steadily, enriching the lives of those it serves and the Presbytery of which it is a member.

We decided to respond to the horrific health care crisis in Africa by providing healthcare to people of Ethiopia. It hasn’t been easy. It won’t get any easier. Because of problems, we need to keep changing our strategies. But we won’t change our goal—to heal people. Too many people’s lives depend on us staying the course.

We have taken on the reality that ours and other mainline denominations have steadily retreated from campus ministry. With our campus ministry, we have engaged students in ways that have influenced their spiritual and vocational journeys.

Campus ministry isn’t work for those with short-term vision. You plan a program and two people may show up. But grateful students and parents frequently tell us how important our work is. Counting heads is not the way to evaluate campus ministry. The mustard seeds of faith we have nurtured is the key metric for campus ministry.

We have challenged the reality of religious-based intolerance. In our society, a Presidential candidate currently has to insist that he isn’t a Muslim. Here at Western, we have opened our doors to the Muslim community at GW. Every Friday more than 300 Muslims have their weekly prayer services downstairs.

So whether it be homelessness, bigotry in the Presbytery, lack of health care in Africa, indifference to college students or religious discrimination in our society, we have taken on some very hard realities in our society.

But to do so, we have to be in love with unreality. We have to believe a pretty unreal story about the son of an Israeli peasant couple who grows up to be a great teacher and healer, martyred on a cross, resurrected from the dead. We dare to name him something startlingly unreal: fully human, fully divine.

Twenty six years ago this fall, I started talking with the pastoral nominating committee of Western about becoming their pastor. Ferlinghetti fell in love with unreality in a candy store. I fell in love with it here at Western.

The Presbytery thought Western was the unproductive fig tree in Jesus’ parable. They were convinced it was dead and should be cut down. But our members asked for more time. Despite shrinking membership, no kids, most of the membership over the age of 70, a building in need of much repair and no money, the good folks of Western were sure they could make this fig tree grow.

The members were well aware that their hopes for the future were quixotic. But they were incredibly confident that their hopes, unreal as most thought they were, would be realized. How? Through faith—in God, in one another, in the people of this city.

And so, together, we began the challenging task of growing this congregation. It hasn’t been easy. We have made mistakes—some of them costly in terms of dollars or diverted energy. But we have never fallen out of love with the somewhat unreal dream that a progressive, mission-oriented community of faith can be grown in the fertile soil of Washington, D.C.

Some people get the joy of planting trees but are not able to see the fruits ripen to maturity. I think of people who were here when I first arrived—John and Jean Hutchison, Pearl Osborne, Anne McCallum—who died before the fruits of our labor appeared. They remind me of the Hebrews who died in the Sinai on the way to the Promised Land. Others came after the initial planting season and are enjoying the fruits. Most of our current members fall into that category. They are like the folks who were born in the Promised Land. A third, very small group of us have had the privilege and pleasure of doing and seeing both—the planting and the fruits.

The folks who were born in Israel’s Promised Land quickly realized that the work had just begun. For, it turned out, the Promised Land, as envisioned by God, was never about a piece of real estate. It is a state of being—a society where justice, peace and safety rule. It is not something into which one moves. It is something one creates.

So it is with us. The real work has just begun for this congregation. Our goal is not to maintain a stable congregation. Our goal is to be an ever-growing voice of nonpartisan but progressive Christianity—to grow justice, peace and love wherever, however we can. We want to create a congregation that is diverse, a denomination that welcomes all people, not just heterosexuals, a nation that relies less on war as an extension of foreign policy and more on diplomacy. Some would say these are unreal goals. All the better. For we are in love with unreality here at Western!

God has not called us to maintain this ministry. God has called us to grow it. But to some, this is not self-evident.

Incredibly, I have spent the 34 years of my ministry arguing with liberals about church growth. Too many folks in the progressive wing of the church associate membership growth with evangelicals and fundamentalists. They don’t want to engage in evangelism because conservatives do. How is that for a mature approach to reality? Sadly, it is one of the key reasons evangelicals and fundamentalists grow in numbers while progressives do not.

Too many times I’ve heard progressives proclaim lack of membership growth as a sign of success. They think growth means we are conforming to our society in ways that make society like us; lack of growth means we are challenging society. Nonsense.

Any church can grow if it is faithful, stubbornly persistent and creative. We have grown this church with those characteristics. We will continue to grow this church with more of the same. As we grow, the influence of our progressive, inclusive message will grow, our ability to nurture one another’s spiritual journey grows, our capacity for mission grows.

Our stewardship campaigns the last few years have rightly stressed our gifts as a response to all the blessings we experience as children of God. Indeed, we are blessed. Our gifts flow from a peace the world cannot give us.

But it is also important to remember what we are building here at Western. Our gifts flow from gratitude to the task of creating a community of faith committed to transformation—personal, ecclesial and societal.

Carol gives presentations on growing the church to people in many different denominations all over the country. People ask her, “How did Western grow? How are you attracting the younger generation?”

My answer, rooted in twenty-five years of observation? Western has grown by facing reality and being in love with unreality. We get our hands dirty tackling reality even as we love the unreality of God’s unconditional, eternal love for us.

It is a privilege to be part of a congregation committed to growth on so many different levels—to baptizing beautiful babies such as Carl, listening to members share their hopes and fears in small groups, being inspired by new music from the choir, watching young adults self-organize, seeing hands-on participation in new mission opportunities, marveling at the financial support for this ministry, and so much more.

We are growing. We will continue to grow. It is God’s call to and destiny for us.

Let us pray: Gracious God, you shower us with love, with new babies, new friends, new members, new opportunities to serve you. Thank you. May we continue to find new ways to grow and support this ministry as it evolves and grows into the 21^st century. All this we pray in the name of the One who shows us the Way, Jesus the Christ. Amen.