Category Archives: SERMONS

Promises, Promises April 25,2016

“Promises, Promises”

Genesis 17:1-8

Revelation 21:1-7

Chilmark Community Church

April 24, 2016

Rev. Vicky Hanjian

There are lots of ways to name and classify the many books of the Bible.  One that I use increasingly is the fact that the scriptures are a witness to a people’s relationship with God.  From beginning to end – Genesis to Revelation in our Bible – we encounter many witnesses to  the relationship between God and God’s people.  From the moment of creation God wants to be in relationship with humankind.  The formula for that desire pops up again and again throughout the long drama of our sacred texts.  The conversation with Abraham is the first place in which the Holy One’s desire for the future is made known: I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be a God to you and to your offspring after you. (Genesis 17:7,8)  Abraham and God walk together.

Generations later, In keeping with the covenant God made with Abraham to be God to Abraham’s progeny, God tells Moses that, indeed, the Divine ears have heard the suffering of Israel in Egypt.  God remembers the covenant.  Moses hears God reiterate: “I will redeem (my people) with an outstretched arm and with mighty judgments.  I will take you as my people, and I will be your God.” (Exodus 6:7) Under God’s power, Moses begins the work of leading Israel out of slavery in Egypt.

A little more that halfway through the book of Exodus, God commands Moses: “have the people build me a sanctuary, so that I may dwell among them.”

After a lengthy set of elaborate instructions about how to construct the tabernacle, the tent of meeting that would travel with Israel during its 40 year sojourn in the wilderness, God again renews the promise: “I will meet with you at the tent of meeting, to speak to you there….I will consecrate the tent of meeting and the altar….I will dwell among the Israelites, and I will be their God.” (Exodus 29:45) 

Fast forward to the prophet Jeremiah as God prepares to bring Israel home from all the lands where they have been in exile: “I will bring them back to this place, and I will settle them in safety.  They shall be my people and I will be their God….I will make an everlasting covenant with them, never to draw back from doing good to them…” (Jeremiah 32:36-41)

Ezekiel tells the story of the valley of the dry bones, where God promises to give new life to Israel and once again promises: “ I will make a covenant of peace with them….it will be an everlasting covenant….I  will set my sanctuary among them forevermore. My dwelling place shall be with them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” (Ezekiel 37:16-27)

The powerful witness through out the Hebrew scriptures is that God wishes to dwell among and in the midst of God’s people.

So – – if we were to use the metaphor of the “bookend”, God’s often repeated desire to our ancestors in the Hebrew texts would constitute one bookend.

Then we read the same promise again in Revelation at the end of our Bible. Revelation repeats the theme: “See, the home of God is among mortals.  He will dwell with them and they will be his people…..I will be their God and they will be my children.” (Rev.21:3,7b)

Between these two bookends, the event of Jesus happens – – another promise – but this time a visible person becomes the divine side of the covenant – of God’s desire to “dwell in their midst.” 

One of the things I noticed about the times in the scriptures where this desire of God to be with us, to be our God, for us to be God’s people, is that they often appear in time of great stress, turmoil, transition and transformation.

A midrash:  According to Genesis Rabbah 38.13 R. Hiyya, a first generation Jewish sage, tells the following story:

Terah, Abraham’s father, was an idol manufacturer who once went away and left Abraham in charge of the store. A man walked in and wished to buy an idol. Abraham asked him how old he was and the man responded “fifty years old.” Abraham then said, “You are fifty years old and would worship a day old statue!” At this point the man left ashamed.

Later, a woman walked in to the store and wanted to make an offering to the idols. So Abraham took a stick, smashed the idols and placed the stick in the hand of the largest idol. When Terah returned he asked Abraham what happened to all the idols. Abraham told him that a woman came in to make an offering to the idols. Then the idols argued about which one should eat the offering first. Then the largest idol took the stick and smashed the other idols.

Terah responded by saying that they are only statues and have no knowledge. Whereupon Abraham responded by saying to his father “you deny their knowledge, yet you worship them!”

Abraham receives the experience the Holy One reaching out to him and his progeny at the beginning of a transformative movement away from polytheism toward monotheism. Abraham, indeed, represents the shift to the belief in one God.  A massive movement in the development of religious process – a time of great transformation in human consciousness.

The Israelites are still in slavery when God reiterates the promise to Moses as Moses struggles with his own doubts about being able to do what God has given to him to do. Moses carries the promise to Israel even though they do not want to listen or believe him – – “I will take you as my people, and I will be your God.” A great transition is set in motion

But the promise of God is not easy to receive or accept.  Israel constantly needs reminding. In the wilderness, fresh from slavery, they are challenged in their awareness and understanding of what a covenant relationship with God means. In Holy wisdom, God commands that they build a sanctuary – a physical, sacred space – where God will dwell in their midst to guide them through the transformation from slavery to freedom.

Jeremiah and Ezekiel both speak to Israel in the sorrowful and disorienting time exile.  In the familiar story of the valley of the dry bones Ezekiel addressed Israel as a dried out and desiccated people –like skeletons – lifeless.  In the pain of exile, God reaches out in the worst of circumstances to remind Israel “I am your God – – you are my people.”  Stressed, almost to the point of death, Israel is sustained by God’s desire to be among them – to be their God – – and they are transformed once again into a living people.

We encounter the other bookend in Revelation. When our 1st century ancestors were beginning to form into what would become the Christian community, when the stress of Roman persecution was at its most vicious and terrifying, when violent destruction rained down on Israel every day, the word of Revelation brought God’s covenant with God’s people into the foreground again:  “See, the home of God is among mortals. God will dwell with them; they will be his people, and God himself will be with them….

The times of stress and turmoil and chaos in the sacred texts mirror our own contemporary struggles and fears and concerns.  There are ever growing populations in exile –unable to live safely and at peace in their own homelands.  In parts of the world, Christian communities with ancient histories are being persecuted in efforts at ethnic cleansing. Terrorist threats have become a part of our daily vocabulary.  We carry unspoken fears and anxieties about strangers. We wonder how to protect our children from living with a dark cloud of threat invading their dreams. 

Last week, Krista Tippet interviewed Craig Minowa, a musician, environmentalist, philosopher and theologian. He commented on how human beings are genetically programmed to be attracted to negativity.  In our early evolution it was absolutely necessary to be aware of the negative dangers around us in order to survive – we had to be aware in order to protect ourselves.  He speculated that we are in that mode now – – a time of ongoing and chronic vigilance – – anticipating what crises may come – – but also living in a great unknown: how to prepare and protect ourselves and our families and communities against the threat of fear?

But as I read the texts –and particularly observe the circumstances where  the promise is renewed in the context of the 3000 year long drama, it seems to be the habit of God to renew the promise in the midst of the chaos – – I will dwell among them – I will be in their midst – I will be their God and they will be my people.  God draws close in times of fear and struggle and anxiety.  God is revealed in exile.  This is the ancient and living witness.  In the midst of the worst, God is struggling to help us become aware that God is in our midst.

For the Christian community, this is abundantly apparent in the person of Jesus – coming into fleshly human experience – to reassure us that God is indeed present in our midst and working in all things for good.  Our job is to keep up our side of the promise – God is our God – will we be God’s people? – – will we stay awake and alert to the vital living presence of God in our midst?

Mixed in with a lot of symbolic language that is very hard to understand, the Book of Revelation carries a message of great hope for a new age. The voice of God says “See, I am making all things new….I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end….I will be their God and they will be my children.”

Craig Minowa’s parting words in the interview were simple and profound: “To be a seeker, you have to be open to something scary that you don’t know.”    The future is always unknown – and often scary.  A New Age doesn’t happen without a lot of disruption and chaos and confusion – even turmoil and violence.  On the receiving end of the promise, it is our job to trust that God is always keeping the promise to be with us.  What we need to do is to promise to be God’s people in return. As our hymn affirms, we live and move and have our being in God.  The scriptural promise is that God has movement and life and being in and among us. The covenant goes both ways.  What a promise!

Behind Locked Doors

John 20:19 – 23
April 3, 2016
Chilmark Community Church
Rev. Vicky Hanjian

Last week’s Easter celebration ended on a note of joy and triumph. We read the story of Mary and Peter and another disciple discovering the empty tomb. We rejoiced with Mary as she realized that Jesus was still with her. We heard that the disciples went to their homes and they believed.

This morning we have another picture. It is the evening of the same day – – and here, instead of finding joyful excitement and a determination to spread the word about their morning encounter, we find the disciples behind locked doors “for fear of the Jews.”

I think we have to ask “What’s going on here?”

The joyful force of the resurrection day seems truncated. The expansiveness of the bright and beautiful morning has constricted down to a tight, fearful place behind locked doors. Whatever liberation the resurrection implied in the morning has become elusive by evening. “When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week…the doors of the house were locked for fear of the Jews….” The disciples are in hiding for fear of the Jews???? – – – it demands that we pause.

We have to ask what John meant because short phrases like this are dangerous, interspersed as they are – without explanation – – here and there in all four of the gospels. Unexamined, phrases like this have been used to support, and perpetuate anti-Jewish and anti – semitic sentiment on the part of Christians and others for 2000 years. So a little historical context is in order.

The Gospel of John was written somewhere around 90 CE approximately 60 years after the death of Jesus. This would have been long after the end of the lives of people who witnessed the events first hand. A lot happened in those 60 years. In 90 CE when John was writing, there were no Christians – only a religiously diverse Jewish community with differing beliefs and expectations about a messiah that had been part of their history for generations. There were inevitable tensions as Jewish family members, priests, teachers and religious leaders wrestled with their beliefs and understandings of who this Jewish Jesus was near the end of the 1st century. There was no common agreement – – but the tension was between Jews who accepted Jesus and the Jews who continued to look for a messiah. There were numerous expressions of Jewishness. They didn’t all get along well together. When John writes about Jewish disciples of the Jewish Jesus being in a locked house “for fear of the Jews” he is reflecting a state of alienation within the Jewish community itself.

For centuries the church has not been careful about paying attention to this historical context of our own scriptures – we have been taught to believe what is written here – but we have not been taught to question what we read. The unquestioned negative portrayals of “the Jews” in the gospels have contributed to unimaginable Jewish suffering at the hands of the church and of others right into the 21st century. With this historical context in mind, let’s go back to that house and the locked doors and see what we meaning we might take from these verses for life today.

The principle player in the story is Jesus. He finds his friends, his disciples and students, behind locked doors. As the Resurrected One, returned from the other side of death, he appears as a loving presence to the disciples in their spiritual and emotional disarray – – he stands among them – -in their midst – – he encounters their fear – perhaps their alienation and marginalization from their own community – -they are in pain – -they are grieving – and they are afraid. … And what does he say?
“Peace be with you.” This is the one who endured torture, humiliation, pain, and the death of his most precious self under Roman crucifixion – – and his first words to his friends are “Peace be with you.”

It seems as though his greeting is enough to open the disciples’ eyes and they rejoice when they recognize him. Perhaps one locked door is opened. When their grief and panic and fear subside just enough, the Loving Presence takes command and repeats the greeting: – – “Peace be with you – – – As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” A holy commission to be in the world as Jesus was – – as compassionate healers and teachers, as seekers of justice, as bearers of the Divine Presence into the world. Jesus’ command has the power to unlock another door.

And then there is the gift of breath. “He breathed on them and said to them “Receive the Holy Spirit” – – These words are reminiscent of all the earlier accounts of the breath of the Holy One that both gives and restores life: – in Genesis – the breathing spirit of God hovered over the waters; and then again when God breathed the first human beings into existence and called them good. Later in the ancient story, Elijah, at God’s behest, breathed the breath of life into the widow’s dead son – and then there is the glorious account of the Divine Breath blowing through the valley of the dry bones – bringing Israel back to life. With the receiving of the Breath, another door is unlocked. As the Holy One sent me – – so now I am sending you – – Breathe deeply and receive the breath of life I give you to strengthen you for the work I call you to do.

And then comes what seems to be the crux of these verses, especially given the historical setting we have just looked at , – – then comes the specific challenge – – – “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, the are retained.” Wow! If all that those words meant was that the disciples should get out of the locked house and find ways to share their experience with their families and friends – begin to reconcile their relationships, imagine what the world would be like if we had stories that showed the disciples moving about Jerusalem and Galilee – finding ways to heal the fissures that had developed between them and their other Jewish friends and relatives – stories of creating space for diversity of belief and practice – – stories of manifesting the multitudinous ways in which God reveals the Divine Presence in humankind. But as the saga of the early Jesus community unfolds over time, it gives evidence of conflict and disunity, of power struggles and distrust as the issues of right belief supplanted the teachings of Jesus about right living. The tragic history of enmity and suspicion between Christians and Jews played itself out over the centuries. It is only in the last 50 years or so that the Christian Churches have begun to recognize and apologize for the sins perpetrated against the Jews in the name of Christianity.

The ancient story challenges the church – – and it challenges us personally as well. We all have days in our lives – perhaps even weeks and months and years, when we live in small, locked places – confined by sadness, sometimes by suspicion and resentment, sometimes by fear. An unskilled comment, a half-heard sentence, an eyebrow lifted in a sensitive moment – – a misunderstood intention – – all simple things that are enough to cause us to withdraw from relationship – to turn the key and lock the door of our hearts. We often suffer alone behind locked doors because of pride or misunderstanding. Life gets narrow and tight – we do not breathe as fully as we might. How often are families and communities broken by a failure to understand one another, by a failure to seek one another’s well-being – – by a failure to give and receive forgiveness – – – and isn’t it a curious thing that the first post resurrection command to the disciples is to be about the work of forgiveness!

The house with the locked doors is a familiar place. But the story refuses to leave us there. Rather it challenges us – – it actually commands us: Be at peace! Breathe! Forgive! The words come from a teacher who has done it all.

The death and resurrection of Jesus are primary metaphors in our tradition. The very act of dying is a metaphor for losing self. Through the crucifixion, the precious human self of Jesus is relinquished on the cross. On the cross, Jesus becomes self-less. This model of self-relinquishment is to become the model for any disciples who would follow Jesus. In modern terms, we might talk about letting go of the needs of our personal ego in the service of a higher good. Clearly – we don’t always get it right – – we don’t follow Jesus perfectly – – and that is where the command to forgive comes in. When we unlock the doors of our hearts enough to let go of the need to be right all the time and to extend forgiveness to those who wound us, we are on our way to fulfilling the command. Forgiveness will happen! On the other hand, if we are not able to turn the key and the heart door stays locked – – forgiveness is blocked – the life giving energy of the Holy One will not flow – – and life becomes very narrow and tight – – locked up, if you will. It happened to the disciples – it happens to us.

Sometime ago, I clipped out a paragraph on “resurrection” from PARABOLA magazine – – the writer* was wondering what it is that survives when the “self-oriented or self – centered life” is over. He/she wrote this: “The resurrection depicts what comes after the destiny of one’s personal story is lived out, yet there is still a life to be lived. The resurrection provides a mirror that something does come back; something survives the death of the self. What comes back to life out of the ashes of the death of the self is something that is really quite simple, but quite poignant. Returning from that place, the only thing left to do is to be a benevolent presence in the world.

I’d like to suggest that this is what is going on in the locked house. Jesus modeled the death of the self for the disciples. He modeled what he meant when he said “whoever seeks to save his own life will lose it. The one who is willing to lose her own life will save it.” Jesus asked this of the disciples – – and he asks it of us.
*sadly the author’s name is long missing
He asks us to let go of fear – to be willing to let go of being at the center of our own lives – -to die to self – – so that he can live in us. This means accepting the peace that he offers us. It means drawing in the breath of life that he gives us. It means moving out of the locked room into life bringing a benevolent presence into the world. This is the challenge of a resurrected life. In these days between Easter and the celebration of Pentecost may we receive the gifts of the Risen One. May Peace be with you. May you breathe deeply! May you forgive generously! May you be a benevolent Presence in the world. In this spirit, may we greet each other at the table to which Jesus invites us.

The Transformed Life Easter, 2016

The Transformed Life

Ecclesiastes  3:1-8; 12:7

(From Ecclesiastes Annotated and Explained by Rabbi Rami Shapiro)

John 20:1-18

Easter March 27, 2016

Rev. Vicky Hanjian

Chilmark Community Church

Why are we here?  Why do we celebrate?  Why do we sing more energetically on this Sunday than on any other Sunday with the possible exception of Christmas?    Well – – It is Resurrection Day!  Of course!  We celebrate that Christ is risen indeed!   We are a people of the resurrection.  When all the Christmas carols have been sung, and the stories have been told and crèches have been safely packed away for another year, when we have listened to and studied the life and teachings of Jesus, when we have walked the Lenten path of self-examination and repentance, when we have stood at the foot of the cross – – or even if we have turned our back on it – – when all is said and done, through the grace of the Holy One, we are invited to become resurrection people.

Resurrection people – – people who witness and experience the worst that life has to offer and come out on the other side of it transformed – ready to move on. On today of all days, and especially following the news of the terrorist attack in Brussels earlier this week, we affirm to ourselves and to one another and to the world that we are a people who celebrate life in the midst of death. We celebrate that in the story of the mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus we are somehow transformed.  Each year, and this year is not different than any in the past, we are confronted again by the challenge to live into an uncertain future with all its fears and anxieties – – all the while celebrating that we share in the resurrection with Jesus who is always doing something new. Somehow the notion of resurrection gets to be incorporated into the very core of our being – into the most internal part of our identity, both as individuals and as a community.  The idea of resurrection – of a new and transformed life following the inevitable changes that come with uncertainty and death and great loss – resurrection – becomes a key element in how we identify and understand ourselves – – a key element   in how we live our lives in an unruly, chaotic and difficult world.

As the ancient story is told, in the dark dampness just before sunrise, a lone woman makes her way to the burial place.  Taken all by itself, this is an act of great courage and devotion, given the political dangers surrounding the crucifixion.  When she arrives she finds that the tomb has been disturbed.  The heavy protective stone at its entrance has been moved.  She peers into the tomb and even in the half-light of the early morning she can see that the tomb is empty.  The first meaning she gives to what she sees – -and does not see – – is that the body of her beloved friend has been stolen or removed to another place.  With this additional layer of traumatic grief, she runs to tell her friends.  “They have taken his body!  I don’t know where he is.”

Mary’s grief mirrors our own.  We have all known the profound grief that comes with the death of someone we love.  We have known the shock and disbelief that comes with the news of a friend who has died suddenly.  We are thrown off balance in the absence of any sure details.  Something in us wants to cry with Mary in disbelief.  Why?….How can this happen?….How can one more grief be piled on top of the sadness and suffering we are already enduring?  Our souls cry out for answers with Mary – – “They have taken him away and I don’t know where he is – – I don’t know where they have laid him!”   We all know something of the profound grief of Mary.

Peter and another disciple hear Mary’s disturbing discovery and they literally race each other to the tomb.  The unidentified disciple takes a quick look inside and draws back, seeing that Mary has spoken accurately.  Peter actually enters the tomb.  “…he saw and he believed even though they did not yet understand.” Peter and the other disciple have an experience of faith.  One look at the empty tomb seems to be all they need in order to know that something beyond their understanding has happened and they return to their homes.

For some of us, faith comes just that quickly.  We require no further evidence.  The tomb is empty – – we believe – – even though we do not understand.

But Mary’s experience is different.  She stays outside the tomb.  She mourns.  She weeps.  She is extremely distressed in her profound loss.  She is rather more like us, I think, when we are in the grip of loss and mourning.  In her sadness, she bends over and takes another peek inside the tomb – – just to be sure.  But this time the tomb is not empty.  There are two figures in white sitting in the place where Jesus’ body had lain.  A brief dialogue happens: “Why are you weeping?”   “They have taken away my Lord and I don’t know where they have laid him.”   The drama takes a profound twist as Mary turns around and sees yet another figure standing there.  “Woman, why are you weeping?  Who are you looking for?”   “Sir, if YOU have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.”

And then she hears the word that jars her into recognition: “Mary!”  And in that instant, resurrection becomes part of Mary’s identity.  Jesus calls her by name – and she recognizes him – – alive!  The scene embodies the hope of everyone who has ever lost someone they love – – the beloved appears again – – alive!  In the normal course of events, this does not happen in our lives.  With the exception of rare resuscitations, when our beloved family members and friends pass from our midst, they do not return. Our lives are irrevocably changed.  We feel the terrible pain of loss.  We go through a time of disorientation when it all seems unreal. We mourn. We grieve. We eventually come to terms with their absence.  We take hold of life in a new way.

So what is the story telling us?  On a close reading, we find that all the emotions we humans go through as we respond to a great loss in our lives are encapsulated in Mary’s resurrection encounter.  Shock, sorrow, disbelief, disorientation.

Like us, she yearns for the lost physical presence of her dearest friend – seeking – seeing – – but not recognizing what she sees.  Grief does indeed blind the one who grieves.  But Jesus, hardly missing a beat, begins the work of a new and transformed relationship with Mary.  And he does it by entrusting her with his clear instructions to his first resurrection student as it were:   “Do not hold on to me….., because I have not yet ascended to my father.  Go to my brothers and tell them that I am ascending to my Father and to your Father, to my God and to your God.”

Then we see Mary’s experience of faith.  She runs to announce to the other disciples that she has seen Jesus.  While Peter and the other disciple only needed what their eyes had witnessed at the empty tomb, Mary needed her broken heart to be repaired and reassured – – she needed the personal encounter with the Risen One – – and then she ran with the good news and the story of the Risen One began its journey into the annals of time – – so that more than 2000 years later we can affirm on a bright Easter morning that life does not end at the tomb.

Jack Kornfield, in his book A Path With Heart , tells the story of one of his meditation students, Jean, a Massachusetts woman who lived with her family just outside of Amherst.  One day, after a number of years, Jean returned to Jack as a meditation student.  She was greatly disturbed because her husband, in a deep depression, had committed suicide.  The couple had been involved in a variety of spiritual communities on their spiritual quest together.  Following the husband’s death, each community lent its comfort and support to Jean as she mourned.  A member of the Tibetan meditation group told her he had seen Jean’s husband in meditation and that he was fine –dwelling in the light of the western realm with the Buddha. Jean took comfort in this. A little later, a Christian friend said she, too, had seen the husband in her meditation, surrounded by white light in the company of a great cloud of witnesses.  He was well and happy.  Yet another friend, a Sufi meditation master assured her that her husband was already well on his way into his next incarnation and that he was fine.

By the time Jean got back to Jack Kornfield, she was thoroughly confused, trying to sort out what was true.  He asked her to consider carefully what she actually knew for herself after she set aside all the other input she had had.  Finally, out of her own inner silence she answered “I know that everything changes and not much more than that.  Everything that is born dies, everything in life is in the process of change.”  Kornfield then writes: “I then asked her if perhaps that wasn’t enough – – could she live her life from that simple truth fully and honestly – – not holding on to what must inevitably be let go.”   Letting go.  It is the first instruction Jesus gives to Mary.  Do not hold on to me – I haven’t yet fully ascended.

Mary comes to faith through these few words from the Risen One – – and from then onward, it is by this word that she will be strengthened and sustained.  She cannot resume her old relationship with her beloved teacher.  The life and ministry of that historical flesh and blood Jesus is over.  A new ministry is beginning.  The Risen One needs Mary’s witness.  Part of the power of this story is that the Risen Christ joyfully and willingly works with those who will meet him on the other side of the tomb – those who are willing to let go of what has been in favor of the new thing that is about to happen.

Indeed, if Mary and the rest of the disciples are to be of any use to the Risen One, they have to let go of the way things were. They cannot be with Jesus in the past. They have to be ready to be in a dynamic, lively – living process with him in a brand new way – – they have to be ready to join him in the resurrection.

We live constantly on the threshold of death and renewal every moment.   Life is continually in flux.  One moment ends and another begins. We make choices, life changes, we rejoice and we regret, we celebrate and we mourn.  Events beyond our control come out of the blue – – and life as we knew it changes again.  We get blown out of center – lose our balance – – sometimes we wring our hands and say “If only I could turn back the clock!”  But even if we could do that, we might find only an empty tomb to greet us.  The reality is that death and resurrection happen from moment to moment –every day of our lives.  Resurrection is now.  When we chose to follow the life and teachings of Jesus, we make the choice to be with him in his resurrection – – regardless of what our life circumstances are. We have made the choice to be here this morning.

We join Mary and the disciples in their confused excitement.  We celebrate resurrection this morning.  Whatever the painful and sorrowful and frightening events we have had to endure, this morning, the tomb is, indeed, empty.

Jesus’ lively and loving message is “Do not cling” to whatever limits the joy and exhilaration that awaits us in the next episode with him.  Jesus commands Mary:

“Go and tell….”.  Through the ages the Risen One has always offered a transformed life when we say “yes” to what he will create with us if we are willing to take the leap of faith with Mary and follow him on the road into the future. The tomb is empty – – there is only life in the resurrection ahead.   May God grant that we find ways to live in the resurrection together.  AMEN

Jesus Leading the Way, March 20, 2016


March 20, 2016

Chilmark Community Church

Rev. Armen Hanjian

MARK 10:32-34; 11:1-11(NEB)                                         PALM SUNDAY

In Mark we are told, “They were on the way, going up to Jerusalem. Jesus was going ahead of them….” What a picture.  Having visited Israel 7 times, I can easily imagine Jesus walking along a dry dusty road near the Dead Sea, the lowest spot on earth, 1300’ below sea level, passing thru the treed oasis of Jericho and then trudging the uphill way on a 22  and ½ mile journey to the city of Jerusalem – 2400’ above sea level.  Jerusalem – a walled city built on a hill for protection.  Jerusalem – the place where people lived out their lives – the rich their way, the poor their way.

They were on the road going up to Jerusalem, Jesus leading the way; and the disciples were filled with awe; while those who followed behind were afraid.  That description of followers – some filled with awe and some filled with fear – tells me there is more than one image of what was happening.

For years the Hebrew people were in subjection to foreign rule – at that time it was Roman rule.  The people of the land had various hopes and expectations as to how God would eventually free them.  Some believed it would be on the last day – The Day of the Lord – filled with dreadful

conflict and with a general resurrection.  Others, like the zealots, wanted to achieve national liberation by force and believed that such action would reveal (bring to the forefront) the hoped for Messiah.  Then there were the Pharisees who didn’t approve of a revolution; they believed God’s Messiah would appear in God’s good time – in the line of David and thru him the Law would be fulfilled.

Who knows all the thoughts and camps represented in the train that followed Jesus to Jerusalem?  In the popular mind, on that Palm Sunday, people assumed the Messiah would be a political hero.  We don’t know the number in the crowd when Jesus arrived at the city; evidently it was large since the officials of the province felt threatened.  Likely, never before had the time been so ripe for a political uprising.  It’s no wonder that some looked at Jesus with awe and some, knowing the power of principalities, looked with fear.

In the Robe, Lloyd C. Douglas tells of a slave called Demetrius who on Palm Sunday pushed his way through the rejoicing crowd surrounding Jesus to get a good look at him who was being proclaimed.  Later he was discussing his experience with another slave who asked, “See him close up?”  Demetrius nodded. “Crazy?”  “No.”  “”King?” “No,” muttered Demetrius, “not a king.”  “What is he, then?”  “I don’t know, mumbled Demetrius in a puzzled  voice, “but – he is something more important than a king.”

When a king directs, you follow.  Your only a subject, a pawn, a near nothing.  Jesus, on the other hand, leads.  We follow and we become and we become like him.

Jesus didn’t succumb to being crowned a king.  He entered the city in a well-planned manner.  Which included riding on the colt of a donkey – symbolic not of a conquering king, but of a messiah.  Isaiah described the messiah as a suffering servant.

“They were on the road going up to Jerusalem, Jesus leading the way….”

That was a perfect, a natural way for Mark to state it, for right from the start of his ministry as all four Gospel writers testify, Jesus calls persons to follow him.  “If anyone would come after me,” he said, “let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.”

Let us consider, this Palm Sunday morning where he led his disciples,

Where he leads us, and how we may follow him.

Where did he lead his disciples?

Whenever some one leads, he or she comes close to misleading.  Surely, there were those who read Jesus to be leading a bloody revolution.  I believe his intent was not that – that was not his way.  When Jesus overturned the tables of the money changers and sellers of pigeons, it was likely a protest that the temple was being misused.  Jesus was not intent on being a troublemaker, but he was troublesome, just as prophets usually are.

His disciples who followed him found themselves led to places of power like the Temple, led to challenge practices that burdened God’ s children, led to conflict with civil authorities and led to speak up for the truth at times and at times silently affirm the truth.

Throughout the Gospels people looked to Jesus for answers and for leadership.    But what they found was often surprising and different from the ways of the world.  Anton Jacobs writes: “When they want answers, he speaks in parables.  When they want it easy, he makes it hard. When they want it hard, he makes it easy.  When a rich man comes to Jesus, Jesus tells him to sell everything he has and give it to the poor.  When a woman starts bathing his feet in an expensive perfume and Judas argues that it could sold and the money could be given to the poor, Jesus tells him the poor will always be with you.  And the one time Jesus seems to conform to their messianic expectations is on his final triumphal entry into Jerusalem, which is then followed not by his coronation but by his crucifixion.”

The disciples didn’t have it easy nor do we.  Just where does Jesus lead you and me?  Like the disciples of old, he has much to overcome in us

Not to lead into temptation but into paths of righteousness.  The truth is we are already very much following others: patterns set by our parents, older brothers or sisters or teachers who became our heroes and not all their leadership was in healthy directions.  In addition, we have the tendency to follow the herd, to do what everyone else is doing rather than doing the right.  Jesus gave us clear warning: “If the blind leads the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.”

Where does he lead us? Certainly to peace, but not the peace that is “peace and quiet”, with no controversy, no stimulus, not the peace of a boat harbored, rather, the peace of a vessel moving through rough waters towards its destination.

For Paul, peace turned out to be sleepless nights, beatings, imprisonment at the end; For Father Damien, a lingering horrible death from leprosy in a leper colony.  Joy tuned out for Peter to be a crucifixion and for Dietrich Bonhoeffer, execution by the Nazis.

(ideas from Edmund Steimle)

And if we follow his leadership we may well get into conflict, sacrifice and death- perhaps not by execution, but by the strain and stress of our ministry.  He calls us to redeem the world and we know so little about doing it.  He demonstrated the only force that will work and what do we do?  We spend our time meeting budgets, oiling church machinery, coddling saints and compiling statistics.  We seek persons to join our church because it brings financial and social prestige, but the one dominating force  which should compel us to seek people is the force that drove Jesus to Jerusalem – love.

How do we follow Jesus?  By loving him, by loving him above self and above others.  “Going to Jerusalem in the sense that Jesus faced it, means going from the place of comparative security to the place of danger, from the place of comparatively little cost to the place of tremendous cost.” – Interpreter’s Bible 7:810

Does he lead you? Does he lead me?  Does he affect my budget in major ways, in every column?  Does he affect my use of my time?  Would those about me be surprised about my being a Christian?  What is my embarrassment level?  Would I speak up for the right in any situation?

What risks would I take to be a faithful follower? One measure to tell whether Jesus is leading you is do you wait to be asked or do you follow by offering yourself, by doing in his behalf, by loving God in each human being?

In a small country church where scriptures passages were written on the walls, a passage from John was written in an unusual, but most insightful way: “I am the way, the truth and the life if you love me.”

Unless we love him he will not be for us the way.  Unless we love others,

We will not be following him.

In John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, when Christian and his friend Hopeful are within the site of the Celestial City, just one last obstacle remained.  Picture it.  It is a deep, threatening river over which there is no bridge.  The prospect of having to swim across stuns them both.  Christian, especially, is filled with fear and seeks another way.  But when assured there is none, that, if they are to get to their destination, they must cross it, they commit themselves and enter the water.

Soon, Christian begins to sink and in panic cries to Hopeful: “I sink in the deep waters; the billows go over my head; all  the waves go over me.”

Then it is that Hopeful calls back: “Be of good cheer, my brother; I feel the bottom and it is good.”

You and I follow One who has gone ahead of us into the future, who has faced everything in life and death we will ever face – and who calls back as Hopeful called to Christian,  “Be of good cheer,  I have gone ahead and feel the bottom, even God, and have found God to be good.”

On the landscape of human existence, there was never a person quite like this Jesus.  So, like the disciples of old, I follow him with awe, and I invite you to deny yourself, take up your cross and follow him.

Where Oil and Water Mix

“Where Oil and Water Mix”
Isaiah 43:16 – 21
John 12:1-8
Chilmark Community Church
March 13, 2016
Rev. Vicky Hanjian

When I first started contemplating the texts for today I thought there might be a way in which they are linked, although I couldn’t see the connection clearly. The Isaiah verses seemed to draw my attention more. So I decided to go with them and see where they would lead. What I realized is that, when these verses are inserted back into the context of the verses that immediately follow, they point to an extraordinary love story.

In the part that we read, God is identified as the Lord who presided at the parting of the Reed Sea so that Israel made a safe passage out of Egypt. The verses describe the chaotic drowning of Pharoah’s army. If you recall the Cecil B. DeMille images, the scene is one of watery chaos as chariots and horses and troops swirl around under the water as the sea closes in on them. For many generations, Israel was encouraged and prompted and exhorted to remember and be thankful for the way God had saved them.

Somewhat paradoxically, Isaiah is saying that this same God now calls to Israel not to get stuck in the past – – but rather to be alert and wakeful to perceive the new thing that God is about to do – – and some really lavish promises roll off the tongue of the prophet:

I am about to do a new thing…do you not perceive it?….I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches, for I give water in the wilderness and rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people…..the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.

The lectionary selection stops there. But I think it is only in reading a bit beyond this that we begin to see the Lenten and Easter message for us today. The verses that follow retell, in poetry, the rocky relationship between God and Israel. And the voice of God continues: Yet (even after all I have promised and done for you) you did not call upon me O Jacob; but you have been weary of me O Israel! You have not brought me your sheep for burnt offerings, or honored me with your sacrifices,…. but you have burdened me with your sins; you have wearied me with your iniquities (43:22-25)…….I have been just and gracious – you have ignored and offended.

This sounds to me like a broken hearted Lover pursuing the beloved….but the beloved doesn’t respond and perhaps even ignores the Lover. In seminary, I heard the term patri passionis for the very first time. It is a Latin term for the suffering of God. In the centuries after Jesus’ death, as the primitive church argued and hammered out its understanding of who Jesus was, there was a lot of in-fighting about whether God could suffer. People were insulted, excoriated, and excommunicated in these arguments about whether the Holy One of Being could possibly suffer.

Isaiah shows us a God who does indeed suffer when there is a breach – when God’s beloved people choose to either ignore or even outright reject the grace and love and yearning of the God who, as Isaiah says, “formed these people for myself, so that they might praise me.” It is as though the only reason human beings were brought into being was so that God could have a relationship with us.

But, in spite of ignorance and rejection, God continues to promise the abundant moisture of life – – Isaiah 44 begins this way: But now hear, O Jacob my servant, Israel whom I have chosen! Thus says the Lord who made you, who formed you in the womb and will help you: Do not fear. For I will pour out water on the thirsty land, and streams upon the dry ground. I will pour my spirit upon your descendants and my blessing on your offspring. Thirsty land – – dry ground – – images of our human lives when we lose touch with our Source.

Isaiah points us toward a God who suffers – – but also to a God who is always hopefully and extravagantly moving toward us even though a more pragmatic mind might say “Why waste your holy time and effort? These human beings are slippery and they just don’t get it!”

But we read a second story this morning too – – a story about a human being who just might get it. A woman who has been the recipient of the passionate love of the Lover. She co-hosts a dinner party to welcome Jesus into her home. She and her family serve the best food. They celebrate the presence of the Jesus in their midst. Mary even goes so far as to break open a vial of costly perfumed oil to anoint the Jesus’ feet. And then in an act of utter extravagance, she wipes his feet with her hair. Mary gets it. Even in the face of the pragmatic criticism of the resistant voice in the room – – – the voice of one who doesn’t get it – – Mary lavishly and extravagantly returns love to the Lover.

The gospel writer’s interpretation invited us to think about the story of Mary anointing Jesus as a metaphorical preparation for Jesus’ death. And this may well be. But when the story is juxtaposed with the extravagant nature of the Lover in Isaiah, the story might also be telling us something about what our role is in the Divine – Human Love story.

From the beginning of our faith saga, God is a creative, extravagantly gracious, long-suffering source of Love and Justice and Grace in the pursuit of the Beloved – humankind. The words in Isaiah might help us to know that when we ignore or neglect, or take the Lover for granted, we wound the heart of God – in much the same way that a child is capable of wounding a parent when the child rejects the love that the parent offers. But Isaiah also assures us that the Lover doesn’t ever give up.

Mary becomes not only the gracious receiver of the overwhelming love of Jesus for her and her family, she also becomes an extravagant lover in return – – her expensive, perfumed oil and her beautiful hair are her love gifts – – and in a quick and subtle turnabout, Mary puts a very human face on the nature of the passionate love of the Holy One of Being – – She makes something of the nature of God visible as she offers back to Jesus her love and devotion. When we love and serve extravagantly, we may indeed become the face of God. When we love and serve extravagantly, we bless God and bring joy and fulfillment into the relationship between us and the Lover.

The story will continue to unfold beyond the loving encounter between Mary and Jesus. We will see that while loving so extravagantly will bring great joy – it will also bring great suffering. Jesus’ death is on the horizon. Loving him costs a lot. Mary will suffer because she loves him. But she will also rejoice when she discovers that this is one love affair that will never end.

As we draw closer to Good Friday and then to Easter morning, we are challenged to hold in creative tension the idea of a God who loves passionately and extravagantly on the one hand, and the idea of a God who suffers when the relationship with the Beloved is distant or fractured on the other.

The interface between Mary and Jesus is a visual image of the point where God does a new thing! It is where the Lover’s ancient promise of life giving waters in the wilderness and rivers of water in the desert meet the perfumed oil of the beloved’s devotion and gratitude. When we are able to love God just as passionately as God has loved us – – when our hearts over flow with gratitude and with service to the Beloved, then we are in the place where, indeed, oil and water do mix – the place where the Lover and the Beloved meet and there is celebration and rejoicing – – giving and receiving – – blessing and blessed – – even though the world doesn’t always get it. This is what the Holy One desires – – simply that we turn toward God with our heart and soul and mind and strength and love God back as much as we have been loved. Mary gets it. Loving Jesus and loving the God that Jesus reveals is costly. – – but as Mary will discover, her passionate devotion will carry her through the devastation of death to a clearer understanding of what it means to live on the other side of crucifixion.

Isaiah and Mary confront us with the question: are we willing to become the place where God will do a new thing? Are we willing to be the people who will serve as the point where the water of God’s great promises mix with the perfumed oil of our willingness to love as extravagantly as God has loved us? If we can say “yes” – then God’s new thing is already happening – can you see it? It is ready to break forth from the bud.

What’s a Father to do?

“What’s a Father To Do?”
Luke 15:1-3, 11b – 32
Joshua 5:9-12
Chilmark Community Church
Rev. Vicky Hanjian
March 6, 2016

This is probably one of the most familiar of Jesus’ parables. Indeed, we may be so familiar with it that we are content with what we have drawn from it. For today’s reflection I will be drawing heavily on the work of Amy-Jill Levine to take us just a little further along in our thinking about the meaning of this parable. Amy-Jill is the author of Short Stories By Jesus-The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi.

The characters in the parable are complex individuals. We have a father who loves his two sons very differently. We have an older son who seems to be the responsible one. He takes his role as the eldest seriously. We have a younger son who appears to be the epitome of irresponsibility. He takes his share of the family resources – and he leaves for part unknown.

Traditional interpretation almost universally accepts the parable as an
allegory of repentance and forgiveness. This represents a quick and easy resolution of the story – – – the wandering son who was thought to be dead has an awakening while he is munching on carob pods in a pig-sty. He gets up, dusts himself off, rehearses a speech to give to his father – and off he goes to be welcomed back with open and loving arms. The parable ends with the Father saying “….it is necessary to rejoice because your brother who was dead is alive –he was lost and now he is found.”

The problem is that when the father proclaims this resurrection speech, he and the older son are still standing out in the field – the older son refusing to come in to the celebration. There is an the unspoken question – “Now what?” sort of hanging in the air. That question leaves us without an easy resolution to the story.

Levine invites us to ask ourselves the difficult questions: What would we do if we were the elder son? Would we join the party? What might happen if the father died and the elder son was left to collect his inheritance? Keep the younger brother around? Send him off to the stables to work as a servant to the family?

What if we are the parent and one or more of our own children is lost? Is repeated pleading enough? What does a parent do to show a love to the child who cannot feel it? What happens when we learn that indulging our kids is not an effective form of love – – even if it keeps the lines of relationship and communication open?

And how are we to understand the younger son? Levine suggests that the 1st century people who heard this story would not have bought into the neat and tidy image of seeing the younger son “shattered by grace and fully repentant.” She writes “I neither like nor trust the younger son. I do not see him doing anything other than what he has always done – take advantage of his father’s love.”

So – we have a complex picture of a family. The elder brother would be within his legal rights to discount his younger brother – send him off to be a day laborer in the service of the estate. But as Levine points out “this may be a legally acceptable move, but it is one without honor, mercy or concern for the father’s wishes. When personal resentment overrides familial and cultural values, we all lose.”

The younger brother is beloved. As lazy and as indulged as he is, he is a member of the family. He cannot be ignored. To dismiss him would be to dismiss the father as well.

The father loves both sons. He reaches out to them both because the family is not whole.

This parable resists the easy interpretation of repentance and forgiveness: “In this household, no one has expressed sorrow at hurting another, and no one has expressed forgiveness.” When it comes to families, there factors other than repentance and forgiveness that hold us together.”

Levine directs our attention to the two parables that precede this one – the parable of the lost sheep and the lost coin. These two clearly are not stories about repentance and forgiveness. Neither lost sheep nor lost coins have the ability to repent. The rejoicing in these two parables comes because of happiness at finding something that was lost. The shepherd rejoices at finding and restoring the lost sheep to the flock. The woman celebrates because her broken coin collection has been restored to wholeness.

Levine suggests that if we can just pause a little before reading repentance and forgiveness into this parable, it may give us something more profound than the familiar and often repeated messages. “The parable provokes us with simple exhortations: Recognize that the one you have lost may be right in your own household. Do whatever it takes to find the lost and then celebrate with others, both so that you can share the joy and so that the others will help prevent the recovered from ever being lost again. Don’t wait until you receive an apology; you may never get one. Don’t wait until you can muster the ability to forgive; you may never find it. Don’t stew in your sense of being ignored, for there is nothing that can be done to retrieve the past. Instead, go have lunch. Go celebrate and invite others to join you. If the repenting and the forgiving come later, so much the better. And if not, you will have done what is necessary. You have begun a process that might lead to reconciliation. You will have opened a second chance for wholeness.”

The word “prodigal” can mean “recklessly extravagant” or “extravagance characterized by wasteful expenditure.” “Prodigal” describes the father in the story as much as it does the son – the father who gives away half the family estate – the father who welcomes back the errant son – the father who leaves his guests to go into the field to plead with the son who is estranged – – a prodigal, recklessly extravagant father who just wants his family to be whole again – who wants all his children around the table. Sounds like a description of God to me.

Finding the lost takes work. It is the work of God – it is our work. Wherever we are on our various life journeys, the seeking out, the repair, the reconciliation, all are the work we are continually prompted by the Spirit to do. We may never be able to complete the task successfully, but that does not mean we are excused from trying.

Sharing in communion together draws us closer to one another and closer to the loving power that energizes and supports and encourages us to be lovers and seekers of the lost. Through the grace of the story telling of Jesus we can learn here at the table what it takes to be forgivers and reconcilers. For just a few moments in time, we glimpse what it is like to be completely at peace in the presence of God’s hospitality – – back home as it were, for the feasting and celebration.

What’s Going on Down at the Temple?

What’s Going On Down At the Temple?
February 28, 2016
Chilmark Community Church
Exodus 21:1-17
John 2:13-22
Rev. Vicky Hanjian

Jesus – – angry in the Temple. So much has been done with this story. It has been used to justify anger as a faith response – after all – Jesus demonstrated anger. It has been used to justify violence as a means to an end – Jesus used a whip of cords to drive merchants from the temple. It has been used as an argument against fund-raising in the church – Jesus said don’t turn my Father’s house into a market place. It has been read as a protest against the exploitation of the poor, of the traveler, of the worshipper – and in this reading, the Temple does not come out looking so well. Historically, the text has often been used in Christian preaching and teaching to denigrate the Temple religious sacrificial system and from there it was a very short step to denigrating Jews and Judaism.

Jesus came to the temple in Jerusalem and he looked around.
But what was he seeing? What angered him so much that he committed what is perceived as an act of violence against the vendors gathered there?

New Testament scholars of every stripe have puzzled and struggled to draw conclusions about Jesus’ activities in this story and to understand what meaning the story may have for the church today. New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan argued that the Temple was itself a “domination system” in the midst of the Roman domination of the Jewish people – that the Temple and the institutions it represented exploited the people – marketing at a profit the necessary animals for the many sacrifices that were made each day.

In her book THE MISUNDERSTOOD JEW, New Testament scholar, Amy Jill Levine argues that this is a faulty and, perhaps, even dangerous reading of the text.
As she leads us through the New Testament texts, we find that, indeed, the Jewish population in general did NOT consider the temple to be an exploitive “domination system”, but rather the “house of God.” The Gospels and The Book of Acts depict Jesus and his family and his followers worshipping in the Temple and making their sacrifices to God. Apparently they did not feel either dominated or exploited by the temple practices. Zechariah, the Father of John the Baptist served as a priest in the temple. Simeon and Anna who greeted the infant Jesus on the 8th day after his birth prayed devoutly and worshipped in the Temple – Anna, a prophet, according to the story, spent all her days there. Jesus’ followers continued to gather in the Temple after his death and indeed, the Temple became the setting for several miracles.

The problem Jesus addresses in all 4 gospels is not exploitation or domination, plundering or robbing; it is the act of “doing business” itself. As we heard earlier, John’s version of the story accentuates the point; in it Jesus rages, “Stop making my Father’s house a market place.”

Whatever Jesus did or did not do, the Gospel evidence does not suggest that he was about the dismantling of an exploitive system. Something else was going on at the temple. Commentator Bruce Chilton reminds us that the vendors located in the temple at the time of the story had previously marketed their wares on the Mount of Olives at some slight distance from the Temple. It was customary for pilgrims and worshippers to visit the market on their way to the Temple to purchase their sacrificial animals. By order of Caiaphas, the Roman approved High Priest at the time, the vendors were moved from the Mount of Olives into the Court of the Gentiles, one of the outer courts of the Temple. This indirectly represented one more Roman incursion into the religious life of the Jews. Many Jews, including Jesus, objected.

The issue was not one of economic exploitation – but a serious insult to the way the Jewish people conducted their religious life. The market was not exploiting worshippers who were already accustomed to making their purchase prior to worship. It The issue was the fact that the market place was set up in the temple grounds itself – – that buying and selling was happening on the Sabbath in direct contradiction of Jewish religious religious practice.

So –what does all that have to do with us, with our worship, with our movement through the Lenten season? Our lesson from the Hebrew scriptures holds the key. Earlier, we heard the reading of the 10 Commandments. Almost at the center of these life shaping words is the command: “Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days shall you labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work.” The Temple is the physical representation – the physical space – of Shabbat holiness.

But, there is also, as Abraham Joshua Heschel describes it, a temple in time – a sacred space in time – called the Sabbath – a time set apart – and made holy. He writes “In the tempestuous ocean of time and toil there are islands of stillness where man may enter a harbor and reclaim his dignity. The island is the seventh day, the Sabbath day, a day of detachment from things, instruments and practical affairs as well as (a day of) attachment to the spirit.”
Heschel further writes: The holiness of the chosen day is not something at which to stare and from which we must humbly stay away. It is not holy away from us. It is holy unto us. Exodus 31:14 reads “You shall keep the Sabbath therefore , for it is holy unto you. The Sabbath gives holiness to Israel.
So, what was going on down at the temple? The very presence of the market place, the place of doing business on the other 6 days of the week, posed a threat to the holiness of the day of Shabbat and to the holiness that Shabbat offered to the Jewish people. A few years ago, in Jerusalem, we were in one of the most vibrant suks or market places on Friday afternoon a few hours before the beginning of Shabbat. The buying and selling was vigorous and noisy and colorful and exhilarating. People buying their last minute Shabbos dinner ingredients – beautiful loaves of challah being snapped up – kosher slaughtered chickens disappearing from open air butcher – shops a sense of excitement and anticipation – Shabbat anticipated as a beautiful bride approaching the gates of the city. In a few hours, though, all the booths and stores would be shuttered and quiet throughout Jerusalem. Cars would begin disappearing from the streets. Work would cease. And a spirit of calm peacefulness would settle over the city. Regardless of all the stresses that Israel endures on a daily basis, on Shabbat, a sense of holiness pervades the land and there is peace. A very energetically secular environment simply shuts down – closes its doors –and a space for holiness is created in the calm of Shabbat.

In our culture we have pretty much lost our sense of Shabbat. We do not know how to rest as God rests. Modern technology has made it possible for us to be constantly available to the work place. We don’t now how to stop – and even when we try, the resulting anxiety can be intolerable. The holiness of our lives has been invaded by the marketplace. Jesus’ irate call to us is to get the marketplace out of the temple of our lives for at least 24 hours each week – to stop getting and spending, creating and destroying, producing and consuming, scheduling and managing.

Abraham Heschel sums it up this way: To set apart one day a week for freedom, a day on which we do not use the instruments which have so easily been turned into weapons of destruction, a day for being ourselves, a day of detachment from the vulgar, of independence of external obligations, a day on which we stop worshipping the idols of technical civilization, a day on which we use no money, a day of armistice in the economic struggle with our fellow human beings and with the forces of nature – is there any institution that holds out greater hope for human progress than the Sabbath?

God instructs: Remember the Sabbath – keep it holy. But the greater issue is that in remembering the Sabbath, we are made holy. Our holiness, the holiness of the people of God – – this is what Jesus was protecting. The sanctity of human life is restored and preserved when Shabbat is at the center of our lives. Sabbath is a temple in time. When we make a Sabbath time central in our lives, we may have the experience of being liberated from the tyranny of the things that govern our lives – if only for 24 hours each week. Indeed, when we can find the way to observe Shabbat, we can become attuned to what Heschel calls “holiness in time.”
It takes some discipline to begin to observe Shabbat. But once it is established in our lives it has the power to make all our days holy. This too is the work of Jesus – to point us in the direction of all that would make our lives holy – – and all it takes is our willingness to rest for 24 hours out of each week. Something to think about as we journey through Lent.

Changing Patterns 2/21/16

“Changing Patterns”
Genesis 45:3-11, 15
Luke 6:27 – 38
February 21, 2016
Chilmark Community Church
Rev. Vicky Hanjian

Starting out, the working title for this sermon was “Sin, Repentance, Redemption, and Repair”. When I shared my thoughts with my rabbi friend, Lori Shaller, she said: “boy – that sounds heavy –are you trying to scare people off?!?” While I really liked the way the words roll of the tongue, I was inclined to agree with her. While sin and repentance and redemption and repair are central themes throughout the scriptures, the bible comes at them rather obliquely – – through stories – – rather than hitting us between the eyes, as it were. The stories show us the great patterns sin and repentance, redemption and repair in more palatable ways as the saga of God’s people unfolds.

And so it is with the story that we read to day. A lot of time has passed since the day that Joseph, perhaps 17 years old at the time, was thrown into an empty cistern by his brothers – left there to die because they just couldn’t tolerate his brazen, favorite son, tattle-tale behavior even one more day. A lot of time has passed since his older brother, Judah, said “What good is it if we kill him and try to conceal it – – Let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother after all – our own flesh.” An ironic afterthought.

The story of Joseph and his brothers follows closely on the heels of the stories of a number of other brothers in the Hebrew scripture – stories that seem to unfold in a pattern of dysfunctional families, parental favoritism, sibling rivalry, mistrust, mayhem and murder.

Starting with the story of Cain and Abel at the beginning of the biblical narrative of humankind – we find brother at enmity with brother.
Cain is the first born son – a farmer – a tiller of the ground. He is followed by Abel who is a sheep-herder. Cain brings an offering of grain to God. Abel brings an offering of one of the firstborn of his flocks. God likes Abel’s offering better. Cain gets angry and kills off Abel. And a pattern of enmity between brothers starts.

Often the pattern is aided and abetted by parents who favor one child over another. Abraham and Sarah wait a long time to have a child. Sarah is not able to have children so she provides her handmaid, Hagar to Abraham as the first surrogate mother. Hagar gives birth to Ishmael. In her old age, Sarah does indeed finally become pregnant as God has promised and gives birth to Isaac. Even though he is the younger son, Isaac will be the son who receives Father Abraham’s blessing. Isaac will carry the covenant of God forward into the future. An enmity arises between Sarah and Hagar. Sarah jealously drives Hagar and Ishmael out of the tribe. The seeds for the enmity between Isaac and Ishmael are planted. They go their separate ways and become the ancestors of two multitudes of people: Ishmael, the father of the Islamic peoples, Isaac, the progenitor of the Jewish people.

In the next generation, Isaac, now married to his beloved wife, Rebecca, becomes the father of twins. Esau, the firstborn, is the rightful heir to Isaac’s blessing. Jacob, the second born seizes his elder brother’s blessing from their aged and blind father. A life long enmity rises up between the twins. With murderous threats hanging between them, they go their separate ways as well.

Jacob marries first Leah and then his beloved Rachel, Leah’s younger sister. Jacob fathers 12 sons by these two women and also by two of their handmaids. Joseph, the 11th son is the first son born to Rachel, the beloved wife. He is Jacob’s favorite – resented by his 10 elder brothers as a whining, tale bearing upstart. The brothers plot his murder, change their minds, and sell him into slavery in Egypt.

A lot happens to Joseph in Egypt in this longest story in the book of Genesis. When Joseph’s brothers encounter Joseph in Pharoah’s court after so many years of separation, they do not even recognize him – – although Joseph know exactly who they are.

It is here in this emotionally charged reunion of the brothers that we see the patterns of the past beginning to be reversed. In one of the most poignant scenes in the scriptures, Joseph, threatened with the loss of his life, thrown into a pit, and sold into slavery by his own brothers so many years ago, forgives them and sows the seeds of a new pattern of possibilities.

Patterns of harm and hurtfulness, no matter how deeply seated, can be reversed and changed. This is the word of hope that runs throughout our sacred texts. Buried in each of the stories of the hurt and pain between brothers there is a tiny glimmer of hope. God cares for Cain and places a mark on him so that he can move through life unharmed in spite of the shameful crime he committed against Abel. Long after the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael, Ishmael and Isaac return to stand next to each other at their father’s funeral. After years of separation Jacob and Esau embrace in generosity – seeing God’s face in one another. Joseph sees the graceful and guiding hand of God working through his brothers’ actions and through his suffering.

The long Joseph story is a story of sin and repentance and redemption and repair –a story of brothers finding their way through their alienation from one another to healing and reconciliation. It is a story of repaired relationships. With the Joseph story, the pattern of sibling rivalry in Genesis ends. The pattern is broken – – and it is broken by Joseph’s ability to forgive the past, to heal it and to permit both himself and his brothers to move forward into the future free of the burdens of sorrow and guilt and fear that they carried for so many years. With this willingness to forgive and reconcile, the narrative is infused with energy to continue on.

When we hear Jesus’ teachings about loving our enemies, doing good to those who curse us, praying for those who abuse us – -turning the other cheek, what we are hearing is an invitation to reverse the pattern of withholding forgiveness. Most often this is an inner work that may have to happen long before the actual rebuilding of broken relationships can begin to happen. Many years passed between the departing murderous threats that Esau made against his brother Jacob and their eventual reunion. Many years passed between the day Joseph’s brothers threw him into the pit and the day when they were so emotionally reunited in Pharoah’s court. The process of coming to a place of being able to forgive can take a very long time.

The work of Lent is about recognizing where we need to be about the work of breaking old patterns that limit our lives in unproductive ways. The work begins with simply recognizing where we feel alienated – separated, whether from others, from ourselves, or from God. I am never quite sure whether this is the hardest part or not – – because it means saying “yes –this is where my sin is.” I say that, because the next part of the process may be even harder – and that is the work of returning – turning – toward the other, turning toward our innermost selves, turning toward God – the work of repentance – of seeking or of giving forgiveness. Once we have made the choice to face toward the work of forgiveness then the energy of forgiveness has a chance to begin its flow.

I think we see the redemption part when we see Jacob and Esau embrace after years of alienation – – when we see how Joseph forgives and releases his brothers from all the years of guilt about what they had done. Their lives are indeed redeemed, brought back from the terrible exile of separation. This doesn’t necessarily mean they are going to be best buddies, but through the work of turning toward one another, they get their lives back. A kind of repair work happens and the story is allowed to move forward. If a refusal to forgive had happened at any point, the story would founder and stagnate – unable to reach a satisfying conclusion.
Repentance, turning toward the highest and best for ourselves and the other, redeeming and repairing the fractured places and relationships in our lives – – these are the movements of the spiritual life. They are the movements of the life to which Jesus invites us. They are not easy movements. They inevitably cost us something. We don’t do any of them without at least a bit of struggle and sometimes with a lot of soul wrenching anguish. But this is the work we are called to do.

Still, as Joseph recognizes–there seems to be a deep grace, a hidden involvement of the Holy One, governing the process when we decide to undertake the work of breaking the old patterns of separation and brokenness. A little later in Luke’s gospel Jesus is heard to say “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous people who do not need to repent.”

It seems that God takes great pleasure in our willingness to do the work of repairing the world through our willingness to do the work of forgiveness – both in the giving and the receiving. Martin Luther King Jr. said: “Forgiveness is not an occasional act but a permanent attitude.” Even the smallest increment makes a huge difference.


Finding The Level Place”

Jeremiah 17: 5-10

Luke 6:17 – 26

Rev. Vicky Hanjian

Chilmark Community Church

February 14, 2016

Sometimes a word or phrase in a text seems to “shimmer” or take on a life of its own. It stands out from the rest of the text and it keeps calling attention to itself. So it is with the phrase “He came down with them and stood on a level place…” over the years, I have learned to pay attention when the text gives the prompt.

On the surface, of course, it makes sense for Jesus to seek out a level space from which to minister to the people around him. He has just been on the mountaintop – has spent a long night in prayer in the Divine Presence. From that experience, he reaches out and draws twelve men closer to him – – individuals with whom he will share the wisdom of his teachings. Both of these experiences are
“heady” to say the least. To spend a night with God is transformative all by itself. To come away from that experience knowing that you are to be the master teacher for a select handful of disciples is even more expansive. Figuratively speaking, it might be enough to throw one off balance. Finding a bit of level ground on which to stand before taking the next step might be a very necessary thing to do if one is to keep a good head on one’s shoulders.

But the scriptures rarely ever leave us on the surface of things. There is always something else going on – – and we are invited to stand on a level place with Jesus and look again at what is happening.

First, it is interesting to note that by the time Jesus finds the spot from which he will speak, there are not only the twelve men who will form his intimate inner circle of students, there is a “great crowd of disciples” – – and along with them there is an even greater multitude from all over the country side. It is clear that Jesus already has a reputation for being a teacher and a healer. Not only are the crowds open to hearing what he has to say, they follow him around in a state of hunger. But rather than giving a teaching first, Jesus attends to their various bodily needs – – power goes out of him – – and all are healed. We might think that the healing alone was enough for one day’s work – but the people have come to HEAR Jesus as well. So we learn from the outset that the power of this teacher works in different ways for different people – each according to their need.

I wondered what the phrase “then he looked up at his disciples and said…” might mean. It seems as though the intensity of focus on the healing drew all his attention and then, when he was finished, he looked up and there were his hand-picked few – – waiting for his attention. It seems the words that follow are particularly for them – – while the rest of the multitude gets to listen in.

So –for a few minutes, maybe we can find our way to that spot of level ground and take our place in the crowd – – – or perhaps we might find ourselves as one of that inner circle of intimacy gathered around Jesus to receive the essence of his teaching for the day.

It is hard to imagine Jesus telling people they are blessed if they are poor and hungry. There is nothing inherently redemptive in poverty – in being so poor that you can’t provide food for your family or a roof over their heads – or adequate medical care if they are sick –or warm clothing when the winds blow cold off the ocean. Indeed, it would really seem callous and out of character for Jesus to speak to a crowd this way about the blessing hidden in poverty and starvation.

So we are called draw in a little closer. The disciples were not poor or physically hungry. At the very least they were from the lower middle class – remember they were professional fishermen and tradesmen. There was even a tax collector among them who did pretty well for himself. We see Jesus reaching inside them with a series of wise sayings that are not meant to be taken literally. Each saying shows a contrast – – a choice perhaps – – to be acknowledged and embraced by his followers: You guys are blessed if you are poor – – in a state of spiritual emptiness – – a state of inward receptivity – – because if you are, then there is plenty of room in you for the seeds of the kingdom to grow. On the other hand, if you feel as though you are already rich – – that you already know what you need to know – – there isn’t much I can give you – you will be satisfied with what you have already. If you are hungry – even starving for what I have to give you, I can promise you that you will be filled up. If you are crying and yearning for what I have to teach you, you will receive so much that you will laugh with joy.

In a simple reading of the story, it seems as though pretty much everyone can receive the benefits of the healing that Jesus offers to those who crowd around him. He gives freely without any demands. Luke tells us that “power came out from him and he healed all of them.” But when it comes to the teaching and the wisdom he imparts, there needs to be an emptiness waiting to be filled, a great hunger and yearning wanting to be satisfied or else the wise holiness that Jesus is able to impart finds no home in his listeners.

In the companion text from Jeremiah, the language is a little different, but the message is the same: Blessed are those who trust in the Lord – -they will be like trees planted by the water – – they will send out their roots into the moist soil – – even when drought and trouble come they will still bear fruit and they won’t be anxious.

Jeremiah preached to a very different crowd – Israelites who had been and continued to be in exile in strange lands with foreign gods in cultures where often the king was regarded as a divine being. The monarch’s divinity was reinforced and his worship was assured with weapons and troops. So Jeremiah begins this part of his preaching not with blessing but with curses and warnings about what happens when Israel puts her trust in fallible human beings, in the attractiveness of foreign gods. Eventually “they shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when relief comes…..they will live in an uninhabited salt land.”

We are now in the period of Lent in the Christian liturgical year. Unlike the anticipation of the birth of Jesus at the end of Advent, during Lent we anticipate the renewal of life that follows on the heals of a crucifixion that ends the life that we welcomed into the world on Christmas. In American culture it is so easy to stay on the surface of the deep rhythms signified by the holy days we celebrate at intervals during the calendar year. There are incredible distractions. Secular culture calls us away from the strenuous task of paying attention to our inner lives – – to the call of the Holy that invites and cajoles and even demands our attention. Even the work of just getting through the week’s schedule is enough to keep us so distracted that fleeting moments of quiet and solitude are very hard to come by.

It is no wonder that sometimes we feel parched – – like a shrub in the desert – – living in an uninhabited salt land.

But Lent cycles around every year with renewed opportunities to put our roots down by a living stream of water. God does not leave us floundering around in the dry places. God just keeps calling us to return to where the water is.

I think this is at the center of what Jesus was saying to his followers as he invites them to be empty and hungry and yearning for what he has to offer.

Lent is a gift of time given to us to find our way to a level place again. It is an invitation to allow ourselves to become empty – perhaps even to recognize our spiritual impoverishment that is so often the outcome of our over-full calendars. These next few weeks are given to us to help us stop and reflect on what we count on to fill us so that we can keep on going. We are challenged to examine what it is that we are yearning and hungering for. We are invited to allow the grace and the teachings of Jesus to permeate us – – to re-create us – – to nourish and to heal us. Lent is rigorous time if we use it well. Curiously, it ends with Good Friday – – with a visible, dramatic and painful death quickly followed by a resurrection and the promise of new life.

The older I get, the more I come to understand that when Jesus calls us to recognize that we need to be empty, poverty stricken, utterly poor in order to be able to receive what he will give – – he is saying that some part of us needs to die – – to become that empty in order to be filled. Paul talks about dying to himself so that Christ can live in him.

So that is what Lent is about……finding the level ground where we meet the wisdom of Jesus face to face – – where we learn about how to be poor and empty and hungry and yearning for what he has to offer. How do we do it? – – Maybe by taking five minutes during the day to sit and allow ourselves to be in a state of relaxation – taking time to disconnect ourselves from whatever causes us anxiety. Maybe by choosing to read a brief page of something that nurtures our spirits in the midst of so much that drags us down. Maybe it would be taking the time each day to just acknowledge the Divine Presence in whatever is happening –good or bad – in that moment. It takes time – – it takes a bit of solitude – – it takes a bit of silence – – and it takes a whole lot of intention. If Easter is to have any meaning for us, it will be because we have taken Lent seriously.

We don’t need to do this alone. We have the scriptures. We have times of worship together. We have the companionship of the Spirit and we have each other. For a few moments in silence, let us covenant with ourselves and with one another to find the level place in the presence of Jesus – and begin the journey through Lent together.

Let the Words of My Mouth Be Acceptable…Feb. 7

Chilmark Community Church

February 8, 2016

Rev. Armen Hanjian


James 3:1-11 Matthew 12: 33-37 Psalm 19

If we are to take all Jesus has to offer us, we are to move more and more toward “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” It follows that not only my deeds must be measured by the stature of his life, but so must my words. The importance of the use and misuse of words in our daily relationships was made clear to me when Jesus said to his disciples, “I tell you, on the day of judgment people will render account for every careless word they utter; for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” (Matt. 12:36)

Why was Jesus so concerned about mere words? Because the words a person uses are an important indication of his or her character. Jesus was saying in effect that the quality of our inward life determines the character of our speech. You don’t get good fruit from a dead tree. Then the saying follows: Take with you words and you have taken with you the mother of deeds.”

To the thoughtless, nothing is so trivial as a word. Jesus and the people of Israel were taught differently. They were taught to attach the greatest importance to a solemn vow. In contrast, how lightly people take their vows today – baptismal vows, membership vows, marriage vows. Whenever I find myself letting my word or vows become trivial, void of significance, I find my inner integrity has begun to erode. I need Jesus, I need the scriptures, I need you, the faith community, to help me in my keeping my vows, filling my life and words with meaning and thus prevent mass erosion.

The fact that words are symbols was driven home to me back when Vicky and I were discussing desserts in front of our preschooler Clark. Clark was by-passed only two meals when ice cream was discussed by spelling. The next time Clark said, “I want some I-C-E.”

A word is a flash of understanding between two minds. It may be spoken, written or even a gesture. A word is an external act which carries meaning. If then words are the mother of deeds, if words are freighted with meanings, then it follows that our words can hurt and our words can heal.

In Charles Dickens’ novel, “Dombey and Son” there is the lovely little girl, Florence. Her mother had died and nothing of a mother’s love is in the father at all. His whole demeanor is icy and frigid and there is no expression of affection at any time. Dickens points out how this little girl tries to win her father’s love and wonders if she is doing everything she ought to do to melt that icy exterior. He speaks no good word of love with his tongue. What a tragic situation. The tiniest expression from his lips of affection would have meant everything to her. Words can hurt because they are never said.

It is strange that a soft substance like water has the power, under certain conditions, to burst pipes that hold it. Ordinary things can have unsuspected power. That is true of water; it is also true of words. They seem so innocent; yet, they can cut and burn and humiliate. The danger is not in sharp penetrating words; we know from Jesus that there are times when piercing speech is necessary. The danger comes in the motive behind the words. Digest these two proverbs:

The words of a whisperer are like delicious morsels”

(There is a difference between gossip and goodnews.)

Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.”

(Motive makes the difference.)

I am sure you have experienced times when even while you were speaking you knew your words were hurting and unjustifiably harsh. Yet, you were unable to quit, unable to ease off, unable to turn from the negative to a positive conversation. Here are 3 things I have found helpful. 1) Go through your vocabulary and weed out those terms you use when you really get mad. I am not saying don’t express your anger. Weed out those words which cut, which close off conversation. I believe I made a big step in the right direction when I ousted “shut up” from my vocabulary. But there are other words I unthinkingly use which my dear friends could bring to my attention.

2) I have found that I have been able to turn the tide from negative repelling relationship to positive one by prayer. By asking God to help me be Christ like in this matter.

3) The next time you find yourself stewing in self pity, take this positive action of prayer early in the period of tension. The longer you stew, the harder it is for reconciliation to take place. In these matters, an once of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

This brings me to the other emphasis I wish to make. Words not only have the power to hurt; words have the power to heal. Before I likened words to water which seems innocent enough, but can do damage. Well, there are words like faith, hope and love, which seem innocent enough, yet which can likewise become powerful forces that can do what nothing else can do. They can break through artificial barriers of suspicion and prejudice and make life clean and sweet.

Every couple (and I’ve married 240 couples) hears me emphasize two things needed for a lasting marriage: out-going, self-giving love, obviously and forgiveness, necessarily. These words seem innocent enough, but how powerful they become when we include them in our daily living: “I love you,” “I am sorry, will you forgive me?” These are healing words as sure as any medicine can heal. But these are hard words to say honestly. Once a word issues forth and we see it in its starkness, we would retract it but pride says, “Let it go spoken lest the blame be shifted back on me.” The best way to maintain a healthy relationship with family, fellow workers even with God, is to be in the habit of saying words like, “I love you,” and “I was wrong; will you forgive me?”

Other words too should become more and more part of our vocabulary as a Christian; words like: “nevertheless” and “in spite of it all”. You know the story of Robinson Crusoe. The original of that story, the man who really was cast on a desert island, was Alexander Selkirk. He wrote the poem beginning “I am the monarch of all I survey. My right there is none to dispute.” He was rescued after being on an island alone for four years. The sailors from the rescuing ship found him on the beach wildly waving his arms to them. They reported, “He was a Scotsman, but he had so much forgotten his language for want of use that we could scarce understand him.” Let that sink in “he had forgotten the language for want of use.” We can forget the great language of our faith, such thrilling words as “forgive us our trespasses,” “thy kingdom come, thy will be done”. Only as we use that language everyday can we keep it fresh in our vocabulary and in our activity.

Do not underestimate the healing ministry of your words. Alice Freeman Palmer taught a Sunday school class of girls in her younger years. One day she went to visit a class member who lived in a dingy tenement. While there she happened to say that the sunshine made the little girl’s hair so pretty. This chance remark had a strange effect. For the first time this girl saw beauty even in her dingy, drab home.

She began to look for it everywhere. This habit became a beacon for her spirit. Later she worked her way through college and was happily married. Years later, this woman told. Mr. Palmer that she owed everything she was to the lady who taught her to look for beauty everywhere. So even our chance remarks may have results beyond all belief.

Don’t underestimate the healing power of your words. I am in whole-hearted agreement with the man who wrote: “An inferior man will make more impressions on hearts by a single word animated by the spirit of God, than another by a whole discourse which has cost him much labor and in which he has exhausted all his power of reasoning.” –Louis Lallement

Addison has a passage (in the Spectator) about the Roman Catholic doctrine of purgatory, how some authors must stay there until the influence of their evil writings has disappeared. But who can tell when that influence will end?

The wonder and the danger of it all is that no one can tell where the influence of our words will end. Thanks be to God that God works with us in our ministry of healing and reconciliation.

Before we share in the opening of our lives to the presence of Christ by way of communion, let us share in the prayer which preceded the sermon. Would you repeat after me? Let the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord my rock and my redeemer. Amen.