Sermon July 11 — The Bad Samaritan

Sorry, The last two sermons are in the wrong order, but they are here!!

Luke 10: 25-37

Ever left your cell phone on a bus, or your wallet at the store?  If you have, you probably can viscerally remember the sense of panic.
           
For a lot of people, their cell phones are a microcosmic representation of their whole lives.  Think about all the phone numbers and contact information, pictures, calendared appointments and text messages that are typically stored in there.  Granted, if you back it up often on your computer or with your wireless carrier, it shouldn’t be a big deal.  But, given the fact that many people are too busy to make a backup plan and too cheap to buy the phone insurance, losing one’s phone can still be the equivalent of leaving one’s life on a bus seat.
           
Ashton Giese knows this.  The Defense Department analyst was on his way home when he inadvertently dropped his cell phone on a Washington, D.C., street.  When he discovered that his electronic life was missing, he frantically began dialing the cell’s number from another phone.  He didn’t even know what time it was because, like a lot of 21st-century people, he kept time with his phone rather than a watch.
           
Finally, a voice answered.  “Yeah, I got your phone,” said the voice.  “But what’s it worth to you?”
           
“Twenty bucks,” said a frantic Giese.  It was all the cash he had on him at the time.  “My phone is my life,” he says.  “If I’d needed to, I would have paid a lot more.”  …..
           
What’s it worth to you?  That’s certainly not the first thing you want to hear out of a “good” Samaritan, is it?  Many of us assume there’s a kind of unwritten agreement between losers and finders, and when we’re on the finding end we get a special kind of rush when we’re able to unite someone with their lost valuables.  The gushing gratitude of the recipient is enough reward for most of us.
           
But, clearly, not all of us.  Some people look at the misfortune of others as an opportunity to make a quick buck.  Call them “bad Samaritans.”
           
Bad Samaritans are focused primarily on maximizing their reward or, in some sense, recouping something of what they believe society owes them.  Take the case of Los Angeles-based writer Andrew Cohn, who was cleaning up after a backyard party and found a wallet on the ground with $40 in it.  “I’d just spent $500 on the party,” says Cohn.  “I figured the money was the girl’s contribution.” He kept the money and left the wallet, with ID and credit cards, on the ground.
           
How did Cohn justify his actions?  Well, he says, “If you expect someone’s going to return your wallet with all the cash, you’re probably a little delusional.” Davy Rothbart, who edits a magazine called Found, which features photos of lost objects, agrees with Cohn.  “Really good Samaritans, if they find a wallet, they return it intact,” he says.  “Some people find a wallet, take the money, but return the important stuff.  That’s not evil.”
           
So, what does that make someone such as Cohn – a semi-good Samaritan?  And what if you find a wallet, but really need the money right now … does that make it okay to keep it as long as you give back the “important” stuff? Is “finders-keepers” an ethical escape clause?
           
My guess is that most of us would say “no” to all of the above.  After all, we’ve been schooled in things like the Ten Commandments and The Golden Rule, right?  You take the lost item, intact, back to the owner with no expectation of, or provision for, any kind of reward.  Whether it’s sheep or cell phones, demanding a reward from a vulnerable person is nothing less than extortion.
           
The lesson here would seem to be obvious, particularly when we compare the behavior of bad Samaritans to the Good Samaritan in Jesus’ famous parable. When we read this passage a little more closely, however, we begin to see that the story has an even deeper dimension to it than just the ethics of helping.  It really has to do with how we view people and, more specifically, whether we believe in the kindness of strangers.
           
Psychologists say that how you perceive strangers is a microcosm of how you perceive the world.  If you believe that most people are intrinsically unethical, and that they’d put the screws to you if given a chance, then you’re much more likely to put the screws to someone else if, say, you find a wallet or a cell phone or, as in Jesus’ story, if you find someone battered on the side of the road. People who see strangers as outsiders, as enemies, or as something less than themselves, will default to treating them that way, rather than as equals, or, to use Jesus’ term, as “neighbors.”
           
The key to this parable is thus the question that prompts it.  A lawyer asks Jesus, “[W]hat must I do to inherit eternal life?”  This is a question about ultimate rewards.  For a first-century Jew, “eternal life” meant the life of the age to come, the ultimate covenant blessing that was in store for God’s chosen people.  The lawyer perceived himself to be a member of the covenant community who, like many of his people at the time, held clear ideas about who was within the covenant boundaries set by the Torah and who was outside – who were friends, and who were strangers.
           
Jesus questions him about the Torah law, and the lawyer gives the right answer – the Shema from Deuteronomy 6:5, which was about love for God, and its companion piece from Leviticus 19:18 about loving one’s “neighbor” as oneself.  The definition of neighbor is the sticking point for this lawyer, so he presses Jesus for a legal opinion.  Luke says the lawyer wanted to “justify” himself, which is a way of saying he was concerned about defining his “neighbors” as follows: “My neighbor is a fellow Jew, i.e., someone who lives within the covenant boundaries of Judaism.”
           
Asking Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” was like saying, “You’re talking about our own people, right?”  Like many of the people of Jesus’ day, the lawyer apparently had issues with strangers.
           
Jesus responds with this story, one that has become so familiar to us that we may miss the scandalous implications of it for people such as the lawyer.  A man is on his way down the wilderness road from Jerusalem to Jericho, which implies that he is a Jew, when he gets set upon by robbers who beat him and leave him for dead.   A priest and a Levite, who should be obvious “neighbors” to their fellow Jew, both pass by on the road and refuse to help.  Maybe they had good reasons; for example, their involvement with a battered body might make them ritually unclean to work in the temple.  Although Jesus doesn’t elaborate on their reasons for not wanting to get involved, the fact that these two are representatives of the Torah and its covenant rituals and boundaries are very significant.  The priest and the Levite – and, by association, the Torah and the sacrificial system – fail to act in order to save one of their own.
           
Who does?  A Samaritan, a stranger and an enemy of Israel.  To most first-century Jews, “good Samaritan” would have been a laughable oxymoron, as these half-breed people with their own temple were considered pariahs.  However, this Samaritan stops, renders aid and takes care of the Jewish victim’s expenses.  He does what the victim’s “own people” won’t do for him.
           
Although we most often read and hear sermons on this story from the perspective of the Samaritan who helps, Jesus hammers home the point from the perspective of the victim in answering the lawyer’s question with a question of his own.  “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers” (v. 36)?  The stunning answer was, of course, that the Jew in the ditch discovered that the Samaritan was his neighbor and that the others — those geographically, ethnically and religiously similar — were not.
           
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  The lawyer’s question was the same as that of the rich young man in Luke 18:18-25, and Jesus’ answer is essentially the same: You must learn a new way to be God’s covenant people and a new way of understanding God’s kingdom.  And, for starters, you must redefine your definition of “neighbor” to include the stranger and the outsider. Jesus would live that out by spending time with the outcasts and, interestingly, the tax collectors, many of whom made their living essentially by extortion!  Following Jesus means we are called to “[g]o and do likewise” (v. 37).  We are called to see others not as good or bad Samaritans, but as people who deserve our presence and our help.
           
God’s people are never to play “finders-keepers,” nor are they to see themselves as being more deserving or better than anyone else.  When it comes to the kindness of strangers, we tend to get what we expect.  If we’re kind and helpful to people we don’t know or who are in trouble, in every circumstance, then we’re more likely to see that kindness returned.  Even if we don’t receive reciprocal care and help, we know that God has called us to love the stranger regardless.  That’s what it means to be God’s people.
           
Things do have a way of coming back around to justice eventually.  Take Andrew Cohn, for example.  A few hours after he replaced the now cash-poor wallet back on the ground, the owner knocked on his door.  Cohn opened the door to find a drop-dead gorgeous woman standing on his porch.  Although she was sad her money was gone, she was glad to have her wallet and credit cards back.  She was so glad, thought Cohn, that maybe she’d agree to go out with him.
           
Problem is, he didn’t get her number, and a mutual friend wouldn’t give it to him.  The friend’s reason?  “You can’t ask out a girl if you just took her money.”
           
You think?
           
Maybe this guy will someday get a life, find eternal life, and come to understand what it means to be a good neighbor.

Sermon July 18 – A Pious People

Psalm 139: 1-7, 23-24

Imagine this: a little device that sticks onto your chest like a Band-Aid that constantly monitors your physical health by reading your heart rate, respiratory rate, bodily fluid levels and overall activity.  It then transmits all that data to a central server for analysis and review by a doctor and by you as well.      

But not only that, because hundreds of thousands of people wear little devices such as this, the readouts we’re all submitting create a database of vital signs that can be used by the device on our chest to predict when, for instance, we’re on the verge of heart failure.  It gives us an early warning that prompts us to get medical attention before our heart actually fails and is damaged.

 This may sound like something from Star Trek, but it actually describes the expected capabilities of a medical-tech product currently under development by a company called Corventis.  Named PiiX (pronounced pie-ex), the gadget is a wireless, water-resistant sensor that you wear like an adhesive bandage to provide constant monitoring and comparison with vital signs in the database.
           
PiiX isn’t some inventor’s pie-in-the-sky dream.  The technology for the sensor has already received FDA approval.  The company is now working to generate the software that will provide the predictive information “not from five or 10 patients, but from hundreds of thousands of patients, as the system is applied across the planet.”  Corventis is running large clinical trials now and plans to file for FDA approval on its first predictive software sometime this year.  In addition to warning about heart failure, the PiiX could eventually be used to help predict strokes and diagnose conditions such as sleep apnea.
           
The idea is to create a machine intelligence that manages a person’s overall health, a technology that “moves from the reactive approach of practicing medicine that is prevalent today to something that is much more proactive, preventative, and individualized.”
           
Now imagine this: a little device that sticks onto your chest like a Band-Aid that constantly monitors your spiritual health by reading your actions, motives, speech, truthfulness, commitments, and where you put your trust.  It then transmits all that data to a heavenly server for analysis and review by God and by you as well.  Then, when there’s a development that’s potentially hazardous regarding your spiritual well being, it would give you an early warning that prompts you to get spiritual attention before your soul actually fails and is damaged.  Call this sensor the PiiUS (pronounced pie-us, or pious).
           
It seems likely that we will have the PiiX long before we have the PiiUS, at least in terms of technology, however Psalm 139 could be thought of as an early prototype for the latter. But, of course, the soul isn’t the sort of thing that lends itself to being read by technology.  So I doubt we’ll ever have a soul sensor that we can tape onto our bodies.  What we do have, however, is what we might call a PiiUS sensor, or the prayer for spiritual examination.  And one of the best examples of that is found in Psalm 139, where the writer of that psalm prays:
            Search me, O God, and know my heart;
            test me and know my thoughts.
            See if there is any wicked way in me,
            and lead me in the way everlasting (vv 23-24).
           
This is different from a prayer of confession.  We pray confessions when we’re aware – often painfully so, of what we’ve done wrong.  The prayer for examination, in contrast, is for the stuff we aren’t aware of, or are vaguely uneasy about, but haven’t faced, or are deceiving ourselves about.  In the prayer of examination, we’re asking God to reveal to us the parts of ourselves that still need reordering, repair, or redemption.
           
Of course, it’s possible to say words such as those from Psalm 139 without meaning them.  But assuming we’re actually praying them sincerely, they’re a request for God to make us aware of every spiritual pothole, so to speak, in much the same way a patient facing exploratory surgery might appeal to the surgeon beforehand to be sure to look carefully and remove anything that’s even possibly cancerous so it might not cause trouble later.
           
In other words, we’re seeking not proactive medicine. but proactive religion.
           
The thing is, if we pray such a prayer, it might be good to be ready to receive some disturbing revelations, to discover some things that may push us out of our comfort zone to get us going in the right direction spiritually.
           
Such a thing happened to the founding Pastor of one of the largest churches in America, located in suburban Chicago.  Its original mission?  To reach people who had little Christian affiliation, people informally called “unchurched Harry and Mary.”  Lots of Harrys and Marys came, and the church grew by leaps and bounds – so much so that somebody coined the word megachurch to describe it.

Yet without specifically intending it, the new congregation was virtually all white in the midst of a community that was anything but.  The church was built on the principle of friends reaching out to friends, and because the original participants were virtually all young, white, affluent and suburbanite, when they reached out to their immediate circle of friends, that demographic became “self-reinforcing.”
           
And then one day, the only African-American pastor on the church’s large staff handed the Senior Pastor a book by Michael Emerson titled Divided by Race: Evangelical Religion and the Problem of Race in America.  It argued that evangelicalism actually served to deepen that divide and “contribute to the racial fragmentation of American society.”
           
Well, when the Senior Pastor, a former Chicago Bears chaplain with many black friends, read that book, he realized his church was part of the problem.  It dawned on him that racism is “not just an individual issue but a justice issue” with “structural and [systemic] aspects” violating dozens of biblical admonitions.  “I went from thinking, ‘I don’t have a race problem’ to ‘There is a huge problem in our world that I need to be part of resolving,’” he said.
           
The catch was that he hadn’t once preached about racism in the 24 years that the church had then been in existence.
           
Recognizing that God had pointed out a “wicked way” in him, he set out to change things.  He started talking about racism in some of his sermons.  He recruited minority musicians to join the church’s bands and worship teams. He re-engineered the church’s small-group programs to include gatherings aimed specifically at bridging the racial divide, where participants could talk about their stereotypes and gain new insight.  He introduced a Spanish-language service for Latinos, who were a growing presence in the community.  And he did other things, including helping existing members reach out to people of color.
           
That all began 10 years ago, and today 20 percent of the church’s congregation is composed of minorities.  Plus the church is continuing to find ways to contribute to racial understanding and be a church for all people.
           
What God reveals to us when we invoke the PiiUS sensor, when we pray prayers of examination, may be something quite different, but do you see how such prayers can lead to proactive religion?  The large church in Chicago was having no real racial problems at the time the Pastor read that book, but neither was the church being part of a solution to racism in the larger society.  God showed that to the Pastor, who in turn started making changes proactively in a system that wasn’t obviously broken.

My guess is that we may never have an electronic sensor for the state of our souls, but a prayer of examination – asking God to search our hearts and thoughts, and then let us know what may be found there, might be even better than our best technology.  That’s because we’re asking God to compare the vital signs of our inner being not to some run of the mill average person, but to those of the very heart of God.  And when it comes to spiritual health and well being – it just doesn’t get any better than that as far as I’m concerned

Don’t Forget – Auditions for You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown July 19 & 20

The God Is Still Speaking Players will hold auditions for their next production, “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown,” Mon & Tues, July 19 & 20, 7 PM, at the SLO United Church of Christ, located at 11245 Los Osos Valley Rd.

Perusal copies of the script and music will be available for in-house viewing at the SLO County Library (995 Palm St) and the SLO UCC (11245 Los Osos Valley Rd) during regular weekday business hours. 

Please bring a piece of music to sing for a vocal audition (an accompanist will be available to play sheet music, or there is a system to play an accompaniment CD).  Sides will be provided for reading auditions.

There will be a 6 1/2 week rehearsal period, with 4 (or 5) 2-3 hour rehearsals per week.

Performances will be Fri-Sun, September 3-5 & 10-12, with a special Labor Day matinee performance on Mon, Sept 6.  The plan is for Fri shows to be evening performances, and Sat & Sun shows being matinees.

There are parts for 3 “boys”: Charlie Brown, Linus, Schroeder; 2 “girls”: Lucy and Patty; and one “dog”: Snoopy, who can be played by a male or female performer as far as I’m concerned.

Questions?  Please contact director, Curt Miner, at 544-1373, or email him at revcurt@sloucc.org.

Sermon July 4 — 50 Years of 50 Stars

Luke 10: 1-11 & 16-20

Exactly 50 years ago, on July 4, 1960, the 50-star flag of the United States was flown for the first time in Philadelphia.  The 50th star was added because Hawaii had been admitted as the 50th state only the year before.
           
We’ve now had 50 years of 50 stars.  …..  That feels kind of neat and complete, doesn’t it?  For years, there’s been talk of adding Puerto Rico as a 51st state, and debate tends to swirl around political, economic and cultural issues.  But it may be that Congress is simply unwilling to add a 51st star to the flag.
           
By the way, do you know what the 49-star American flag said to the 50-star American flag?  Nothing – it just waved (sorry … I couldn’t resist!)..
           
As human beings, we tend to like certain numbers – and this goes way back.  Since ancient times, people have attached symbolic significance to numbers.  For the Israelites, the number one signified uniqueness or undivided wholeness.  The book of Deuteronomy says, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord” (6:4, KJV).

The number two holds power and significance as it points out the dualism that exists in so much of Creation: day & night, earth & sky, land & sea, plant & animal, male & female, good and evil.
           
Three is largely regarded as a divine number.  When Abraham is visited by three mysterious men by the oaks of Mamre, he comes to realize that the Lord is visiting him (Genesis 18:1-15).  Christians later affirm that God is a Trinity, one God in three persons.
           
According to The Oxford Companion to the Bible, the number seven signifies completeness and perfection.  The Genesis Creation takes place in 7 days, in ancient Israel, the great festivals lasted seven days, and every seventh year was a Sabbath year.

Ten and twelve are also seen as numbers of completeness and perfection: God gave Moses 10 Commandments, there are 12 monthly lunar cycles in a year, Israel had 12 tribes, and Jesus had 12 disciples.
           
What did the apostles do after Judas betrayed Jesus and took his own life in a moment of guilt and remorse?  They quickly cast lots and selected Matthias to replace him (Acts 1:26). Eleven apostles just didn’t seem complete.
           
So here we are with 50 states and 50 stars – in the minds of some people, completeness and perfection.  But life in America is never perfect and complete. When the Declaration of Independence was signed, 234 years ago today, its words described the beginning of a process, not the end.
           
It was a Declaration of Incompleteness.  “We hold these truths to be self-evident,” wrote Thomas Jefferson, “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
           
The pursuit of happiness … that phrase alone shows us that our work is never finished.
           
On this Independence Day, 50 years after the addition of the 50th star, it’s appropriate for us, as Christians in America, to look at where we’ve been and where we’re going.  Fifty years ago, it wasn’t at all clear that “all men are created equal” because segregation was enforced in many parts of our country.  Black men and women were treated as second-class citizens.  It took a massive civil-rights movement to outlaw racial discrimination and move us closer to a society in which all people are accepted as equals.
           
But are we there yet? Not quite.

We need to add a few more stars to the flag on this Independence Day – stars that have nothing to do with the addition of new states.  The first star to add is equality.
           
Notice how theological the Declaration of Independence is on this point: “all men are created equal.”  It doesn’t say born equal – it says created equal. Creation requires a divine Creator, and as Christians we believe that “God created humankind in the Divine image, in the image of God they were created; male and female” (Genesis 1:27).
           
This anniversary is the perfect day to look at ourselves as people created in the image of God, with tremendous intellectual, spiritual and relational gifts. Psalm 8 tells us that the Lord has made human beings “a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor” (v. 5).
           
That’s who we are, according to Scripture – a little lower than God, crowned with glory and honor.  And that’s who our neighbors are as well: the working-class family from Mexico or Central America down the street, the single mom with three kids in the grocery store, the unwanted child in need of adoption, the wealthy attorney with a broken marriage and a drinking problem, the same-sex couple seeking the right to love and marry the person of their choosing.  It’s time to break out of our categories and caricatures and begin to see each other as equals – as brothers and sisters, created in the image of God.  Only then can we reach out to each other with love and compassion and understanding, accepting each other as God accepts each one of us.
           
This 50th anniversary is also the day to focus on a life of service to God. The Declaration of Independence describes life as an unalienable right, but as Christians we believe that we have been given the gift of life so we can give it back to God – in service.  

In our reading from Luke for today, a group of 70 is sent out to share the Good News with those living in the nearby towns and villages.  70 … a combination of 7 and 10 – two numbers of significance.  And how are they sent out?  In 2’s … another important number.

So they go out, offering the message of God’s love in Jesus Christ and the gift of their service to those who are willing and able to receive it.  And to those who can’t or won’t receive them and what they have to offer?  They are told not to dwell on it – just shake the dust from their feet, remind the people that the Kingdom of God has indeed come near to them, and move on.

And what happens?  The 70 return, rejoicing over all they had been able to accomplish – even though there had no doubt been those who were unwilling or unable to accept their message … but nonetheless, they came back in a spirit of joy.  …..  Which brings me to my final point.
           
Independence Day is also the day to recommit ourselves to the pursuit of happiness – for ourselves and for all of our fellow citizens.  As Christians, we know that happiness isn’t an isolated and individual experience.  Instead, it comes from being part of a community in which God’s abundant goodness is shared and enjoyed by all.  In his first letter, Peter gives this practical advice to the Christian community of his day: “As servants of God, live as free people, yet do not use your freedom as a pretext for evil.  Honor everyone.  Love the family of believers.  Fear God.  Honor the emperor” (1 Peter 2:16-17).
           
Peter wants us to live as free people but warns us about using our Declaration of Independence as a permission slip to do evil.  Putting what’s good for us ahead of what’s good for all simply isn’t a Christian option.  We are called to honor everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, and honor the emperor. Advancing ourselves while abusing others simply doesn’t fit this equation.  …..
           
Equality … service to God … Christian freedom … pursuing happiness in community – the addition of these stars will certainly create an awkward 54-star flag, which isn’t going to be anyone’s idea of a complete and perfect banner for our country.  But unless we focus on these goals, we’re going to find ourselves living in an increasingly segregated, self-serving, and self-centered society.
           
So let’s add these new stars and move a little closer to becoming a nation where all of God’s children can enjoy life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Completeness and perfection will never be captured by flags, but will be found only in a relationship with the One who has created us and called us to be his own.
           
We’ll continue to declare our incompleteness until we are one with the one Lord God.  This is a union that will happen beyond the stars … and the stripes.

Sermon June 27 – How to Survive (Almost) Anything

1 Kings 19: 1-15a

Ever been caught in a disaster?  Chances are that all of us will be at some point, whether it’s a personal crisis or something more widespread such as a hurricane or an earthquake.  We’re used to hearing about disasters every day, but some are a little more disastrous than others, mostly because we don’t expect that they’ll ever happen to us. 
           
Lebanese born author and statistician Nassim Nicholas Taleb calls these unusual, who’d-a-thunk-it kinds of disasters “black swans” – as in something that rarely occurs.  He defines them as “low-probability, high-impact events” that hardly anyone would have anticipated.  Last year’s financial meltdown could be understood as an economic “black swan,” but other scenarios can be potentially even more disastrous.
           
Say you’re traveling in a Third World country and get caught in the crossfire of a coup attempt, or you’re hiking in the back country and are suddenly surrounded by walls of flame from a lightning-struck wildfire – those are instant black swans.  Getting hit by a tsunami or an avalanche would qualify, as would a major pandemic of deadly flu or the complete crash of the power grid.  Because we’ve gotten a taste of a couple of these scenarios in the past year or so, National Geographic Adventure magazine has put up a Web site to help us out with some tips on how to survive almost anything – even a black swan.
           
If you’re suddenly confronted with whizzing bullets and masked gunmen in a foreign country, for example, the best thing they say to do is make your way to the airport or the embassy.  If you get captured and held for ransom, security experts say to try to relax and go along because 95 percent of international kidnappings are resolved with a payoff.
           
Are you watching the water on the beach recede unusually fast?  Run for high ground or the tallest building you can find before the impending tsunami wave hits or, if you get caught in the water, ride it out by keeping your feet up and in front of you as if you had just fallen out of a whitewater raft.  

Power grid crashes?  Make sure you have a good survival kit before the fact.

Caught in a wildfire?  Ditch your synthetic pack and clothes, which will melt under the heat, and head for the nearest body of water or a clearing while covering your nose and mouth with a wet cotton cloth or even some dirt.
            Granted, you aren’t likely to be running from terrorists or tsunamis.  On the other hand:
            • You might suddenly face the loss of a job.
            • You might suddenly discover that your marriage is in trouble.
            • You might suddenly face the loss of your health.
            • You might suddenly lose a loved one.
           
These events are low probability, one would hope; but they’re high impact if they happen to you!
           
Truth be told, a lot of the advice for surviving a low-probability, high-impact event is just common sense; for example, if your GPS stops working, go old school and use a map (duh).  Problem is, though, that common sense is often one of the first things we lose in an instant emergency.  When we’re confronted with a survival scenario, it’s most often the ability to calm down and work the problem through step by step that can mean the difference between life and death.  Thinking positive can be a lifesaver, while negative thoughts of hopelessness can be a killer.
           
Elijah could have used this advice big time in his own black-swan crisis. After Elijah kicked tail in the contest with pagan prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18), a messenger comes to him with a black-swan message from the evil pagan queen and Baal worshiper, Jezebel, who plans to have Elijah killed within 24 hours.  Almost overnight, Elijah goes from being triumphant to being a target.  Instead of confronting the queen with the help of God, who, as the story goes, had just demonstrated some pretty serious firepower, Elijah panics and flees for his life out into the desert (1 Kings 19:1-3), where fear and despair bring him to the point of wanting to die (v. 4).
           
Elijah’s black-swan scenario can teach us a lot about our own spiritual survival, especially when we evaluate it in light of several important survival skills that have more to do with character, wits and worldview than with the right equipment or the ability to determine the right kinds of bugs and tree bark to munch on.  When we’re hit with a black-swan crisis of faith, we need to remember some things that will help us “return on [our] way” (v. 15).
           
The first thought we need in a crisis is about doing the next right thing. “Debriefings of survivors show repeatedly that they possess the capacity to break down the event they are faced with into small, manageable tasks,” writes John Leach, a psychology professor at Lancaster University.  “Each step, each chunk must be as simple as possible. … Simple, directed action is the key to regaining normal psychological functioning.”  Rather than fast-forwarding our thoughts out to all the potential negative outcomes, we need to be able to break the problem down into manageable parts.
           
Elijah panics and runs when Jezebel’s messenger confronts him.  But think about this: If she were really serious about knocking off Elijah within 24 hours, why didn’t she just send a hit man to rub him out or some cops to arrest him?  Maybe she feared that the God who torched the altar on Mount Carmel would smoke her, too, if she killed Elijah outright, so she just wanted to scare him off instead.  That may be reading something into the text, but it’s clear that Elijah goes immediately to the worst-case scenario in his own mind and bolts instead of asking the right questions of himself and, perhaps more importantly, of God.  Had Elijah thought it through, he may have realized that his situation wasn’t as dire as it first appeared.
           
Confronted with an instant crisis, we need to be able to break the problem down into its component parts.  You’re confronted with the black swan of a life-threatening illness: What’s the first thing you need to do today?  What information is helpful right now?  You’ve just received a pink slip: Where do you need to go first?  Who do you call?  Thinking “chunky” enables us to move forward by degrees and think clearly instead of becoming overwhelmed by panic.  …..
           
A second helpful skill is to develop and use a mantra that you can live by before you need it.  Steve Callahan, adrift in a raft for 76 days, just kept repeating the word survival.  Over and over during the ordeal, he’d say things such as “Concentrate on now, on survival.”  Yossi Ghinsberg, a hiker who was lost in the Bolivian jungle for three weeks, repeatedly used the phrase man of action to motivate himself.  A positive message can keep your spirits up and your mind focused on doing the next right thing.
           
By contrast, a negative perspective can lead you down the road of despair and death.  Notice that Elijah’s mantra is focused on death.  “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life for I am no better than my ancestors” (v. 4).  When confronted twice by God while hiding in a cave on Mount Horeb (“What are you doing here, Elijah?” God asks), Elijah offers the same response each time: “I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away (vv. 10, 14).  The prophet is burned out, bummed out, and wants out.
           
What kind of self-talk emerges naturally from you?  What kind of positive mantra can you begin to develop now that will help you in the midst of crisis?  …..
           
Another important skill in the midst of a crisis?  Surrender, but don’t give up.  While it may sound like a paradox, the concept of surrender is at the heart of survival.  Fear, especially fear of death, can be a paralyzing force that can keep you from doing what’s necessary to survive.  Iraqi journalist Ahmed Abdullah has learned about the concept of surrender in the midst of years of combat experience.  “If you are afraid, then you have to lock yourself inside your house,” he says.  “But if you want to keep on living, then you must forget about your fears and deal with death as something that is a must, something that’s going to happen anyway.  Even if you don’t die this way, you can die normally, naturally. … Whatever [you] do, [you’re] not going to change this.”  Once you come to terms with the possible outcomes, even the ultimate outcome of death, you are more able to keep moving toward survival.  Good survivors realize that they may die, but they’re going to keep going anyway.  Think of it like that line from Braveheart where Mel Gibson, as William Wallace, says: “Every man dies; not every man really lives.”
           
Elijah ran into the desert and wanted to give up – just sit under the broom tree and die.  We might look at him sitting there and recognize some of the classic signs of depression and burnout.  God won’t let him quit, however.  An angel feeds him there in the wilderness we’re told(vv. 5, 7), and he gets some time to rest – and even a cave to hide in.  But God meets him there and challenges him to push through his fear and continue on with the business of being God’s prophet, dangerous as that profession may be.  The lesson here is that even when we’re ready to give up, God is still with us, feeding us, prompting us, challenging us.  And it’s only when we surrender to God’s call that we can begin to move past our fear and despair and get at the business of living boldly into the future.
           
One way we’re able to get past our fear is by helping others, which is another essential survival skill.  Studies have shown that people in the Nazi death camps who focused their energy on helping people around them were much more likely to survive than those who allowed themselves to simply be victims.  It’s why doctors and nurses have a much higher survival rate in a disaster than the average population – they are responsible for others.
           
In the verses following our reading for today from 1 Kings, God lifts Elijah out of his self-indulgent victimhood by commanding him to go and anoint several new kings and, perhaps most importantly, to train his replacement, Elisha (vv. 15-17).  It’s the difference between moping and having a mission.  If you’re feeling like a victim or you can’t work out your own problem, one of the best solutions to getting unstuck is to pour your energy into helping someone else.
           
So … have you signed up to help with our Homeless Overflow yet during the month of July?  If not – it’s not too late … but time is running short!

You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown

Hope to be seeing MANY of you at auditions – and PLEASE help spread the word! Peace & blessings  …..  REV CURT  =)>  

The God Is Still Speaking Players will hold auditions for their next production, “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown,” Mon & Tues, July 19 & 20, 7 PM, at the SLO United Church of Christ, located at 11245 Los Osos Valley Rd.

Perusal copies of the script and music will be available for in-house viewing at the SLO County Library (995 Palm St) and the SLO UCC (11245 Los Osos Valley Rd) during regular weekday business hours starting July 1. 

Please bring a piece of music to sing for a vocal audition (an accompanist will be available to play sheet music, or there is a system to play an accompaniment CD).  Sides will be provided for reading auditions.

There will be a 6 1/2 week rehearsal period, with 4 (or 5) 2-3 hour rehearsals per week.

Performances will be Fri-Sun, September 3-5 & 10-12, with a special Labor Day performance on Mon, Sept 6.  The plan is for Fri shows to be evening performances, and Sat & Sun shows being matinees – although that’s not cast in stone.

There are parts for 3 “boys”: Charlie Brown, Linus, Schroeder; 2 “girls”: Lucy and Patty; and one “dog”: Snoopy, who can be played by a male or female performer as far as I’m concerned.

Questions?  Please contact director, Curt Miner, at 544-1373, or email him at revcurt@sloucc.org.

Reminder — Yard Sale

Just a reminder that our church Yard Sale is tomorrow at the church from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. Hope to see you all here!

Giant Yard Sale

Sermon June 13 — Creative Repurposing

Galatians 2: 15-21

His real name is Dan Corum.  The public knows him as “Dr. Doo: The Emperor of Excrement.”
           
Corum is the Compost and Recycling Coordinator at Seattle’s Woodland Park Zoo, and a big part of his task is to oversee the award-winning “Zoo Doo” program that each year takes the waste from the park’s elephants, hippos, zebras, giraffes, gazelles, oryx, ponies and others and transforms it into nearly 1 million pounds of compost to enhance gardens and lawns throughout the Seattle area.
           
The transformed waste is so highly prized that supply can’t keep up with demand.  So each year gardeners bid for a chance to purchase it, and the zoo holds a twice-annual “Fecal Fest” to select lucky purchasers.
           
Not only does the repurposed animal waste – once sent to landfills, now provide a completely organic alternative to chemical fertilizers, but the zoo no longer has to pay more than $60,000 a year in disposal costs.  Instead, its unlikely product contributes upward of $20,000 to the annual budget and has garnered the organization recognition for environmental conservation.
           
Creative repurposing – another example … Clothing: Twenty-one billion pounds of it.  

That’s how much clothing Americans throw away each year: shorts and skirts, tank tops and t-shirts, blue jeans and underwear – more than 10 million tons of textiles.
           
Fortunately, not all of it ends up in the trash.  About 2.5 billion pounds of clothing winds up in resale shops such as Savers, the largest private vintage emporium, with 210 outlets.  Today, there’s no more secondhand clothing; it’s called “vintage.”  And sales are booming, up 35 percent in 2008.
           
But vintage clothing merchants aren’t the only ones turning trash into cash.  More than 290 million tires are scrapped each year in the United States.  A company called Diamond Safety Concepts turns finely ground used tires into playground covers and athletic fields.
           
During the potato chip-making process, some bits of the potato are discarded due to size.  Proctor and Gamble cuts down on waste by turning the whole spud into dehydrated potato flakes.  The company then forms a dough that’s rolled and cut into the chips called Pringles, which are sold in a tube. These familiar chips saw double-digit sales growth in the third quarter of 2008.
           
And how about worm waste?  Betcha haven’t thought about the value of that.  Worms are very good at this, producing their body weight in waste every 24 hours. 
       
A company called Terracycle converts this organic waste into environmentally friendly plant food, generating an estimated $15 million in revenue last year alone.  You can buy this worm-waste plant food at Home Depot and Whole Foods.
           
The fancy name for turning trash into cash is “creative repurposing.”  An old shirt becomes vintage, a used tire turns into a playground cover, a tiny potato becomes a Pringle, and a cup of worm waste hits the shelf as plant food.  This is much more creative than recycling – it’s repurposing.

God has been doing this for years, most powerfully through the gift of Jesus Christ.  In his letter to the Galatians, the apostle Paul says that “[w]e ourselves are Jews by birth,” people who have been working for generations to be made right with God by doing “the works of the law” (2:15-16).
           
Paul grew up believing that he would be justified – made right with God, by doing what was correct according to the laws of the Bible.  Paul was a champ at this, bragging to the Philippians that he had more reason than anyone else to be confident: “circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless” (Philippians 3:4-6).
           
Yes, blameless.  When it came to being made right with God through works of the law, Paul was batting a thousand.
           
“Yet whatever gains I had,” he writes, “I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ” (vv. 7-9).
           
Circumcised Jew, Israelite, Benjaminite, Hebrew, Pharisee, blameless law-abider – it’s all rubbish, says Paul.  In fact, what he really says, in the original Greek is that it’s total “excrement.” …..  Worm waste.
           
We don’t have to be Jews by birth to understand what Paul is talking about.  He was playing the game according to the rules he grew up with, and then he discovered that God was creating a whole new ballgame.  We run into the same trap when we focus on work, money, and sex, which our culture constantly encourages us to pursue. We work hard to acquire great jobs, accumulate money, and find attractive partners – only to discover that these enticing goals can get in the way of having a right relationship with God.
           
“We tend to worry about drugs, drinking and pornography,” says Tim Keller, the pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City.  “But it’s not bad and nasty things that are our biggest problems.  Sex, work and money are great goods,” and because they’re great goods, they can become counterfeit gods.  “If God is second place in your life and one of them is first,” concludes Keller, “you’re cooked.”
           
Work, money and sex – these are the goals many people pursue in 21st-century America, just as Paul chased the goal of being made right with God through works of the law in first-century Palestine.
           
But they don’t really make us happy by themselves- they’re counterfeit gods.  Put them in first place, and, as Keller says – you’re cooked.
           
Fortunately, God is in the business of creative repurposing, and is playing a whole new ballgame in and through Jesus Christ.  “A person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ,” writes Paul to the Galatians.  “And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law” (2:16).
           
The apostle’s audience understandably wanted to be “justified” – that is, made right with God.  But what Paul discovered is that the “works of the law” don’t get the job done.  They are the old tires, clothes, potatoes, and worm waste that God needs to repurpose.  And so God changes them into “faith in Jesus Christ.”
           
Faith in Christ is what makes us right with God … not works of the law, not money, not sex, not success in our careers – but a willingness to put our trust and faith in Jesus Christ.
           
This is a transformation every bit as unexpected as the metamorphosis of used tires into athletic fields. It requires nothing short of tearing down and building up, dying and rising.  “I have been crucified with Christ,” writes Paul, “and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.  And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (vv. 19-20).
           
So what does it mean to be repurposed to “live by faith in the Son of God”?  Transformation is fantastic, but only if it leaves you in better shape than before.  To understand what Paul is talking about, we need to expose an ambiguity that lies at the heart of his description of the power of faith.  The Greek words that are translated “I live by faith in the Son of God” can also be translated “I live by the faith of the Son of God,” switching the emphasis from our faith to Christ’s faith.
           
That makes a huge difference, doesn’t it?  Suddenly, we aren’t living by our own faith; we’re living by Christ’s faith.  Our values and practices have been repurposed, with Jesus Christ’s own faithfulness moving in us and through us. And the hallmarks of this new identity, writes New Testament scholar Richard Hays, “are love and self-giving.”
           
This love isn’t a soft, comfortable feeling of affection, but a rock-hard love that became visible in the suffering and death of the Son of God.
           
Take a long, hard look at the cross.  Find one and focus on it.  The church is full of crosses; some of you are wearing them around your neck.  Wherever and whenever you see the cross, remember – it isn’t just Christ’s cross; it’s our cross.  “I have been crucified with Christ,” says Paul, “and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me” (vv. 19-20).  Our old life has ended, and a new life has begun.  When we are made right with God by Christ’s self-giving faithfulness, we become completely different people – “a new creation,” in which everything old has passed away, and everything has become new (2 Corinthians 5:17).
           
Creative repurposing.
           
Because we’re now living by the faith of the Son of God, with Christ’s own faithfulness moving in us and through us, our clear and concrete actions need to be sacrificial and loving.  Not because we’re such self-giving people, but because Christ is a self-giving Lord.  We live by the faith of the Son of God whenever we reach out to the poor, welcome the homeless into our churches, or assist those who are troubled.
           
In this light, our Giant Yard Sale this coming Saturday isn’t just a church fundraiser … it’s a creative repurposing of items we no longer need or want, offering them for a fraction of what they would cost new.  It’s a win/win situation economically for the buyers and church alike.  …..  It’s good ecology – reduce, reuse, recycle!  …..  And it’s even good theology.  …..

In what other ways could we engage in some creative repurposing – in our lives, and in the lives of the Church?  …..  Something to think about.

Sermon June 6 — A Little Spam

When I say the word “spam,” I suspect we are likely to come up with at least two different mental images.  Some may well envision e-mails from Nigerian bankers wanting to bestow a recently discovered trust fund in your name, and then, those my age and older might dial their memories back to a pink, gelatinous mystery meat in a can. 

The origins of the connection between spam as computer junk mail and Spam the ubiquitous canned meat aren’t clear, but a couple of stories would seem to make sense.  

Some connect it to the famous Monty Python restaurant sketch from the early 70s in which the menu consists of repetitious delicacies – ALL containing Spam – up to and including “Lobster Thermidor aux crevettes with a mornay sauce garnished with truffles and … Spam” … YUM! 

Computer spam is just a similar menu of repetitive, tasteless junk.  Others, though, trace the origin of the term to a computer lab at USC, where the students began to compare computer junk mail with the stuff that comes in a can because:
1. Nobody wants it or ever asks for it.
2. No one ever eats it; it’s the first item to be pushed to the side when eating the entree.
3. Sometimes it’s actually tasty, like the one percent of junk mail that’s really useful to a few people.

But while computer spam is the stuff of our everyday lives, the original Spam gets a lot less press these days.  Quick survey:  How many of you in the congregation today have at least one can of Spam somewhere in the house (and are willing to admit it)?  I didn’t figure it would be a lot (if any), even though Hormel, its originator and current manufacturer, claims to sell 100 million cans each year (a goodly percentage being sold in Hawaii where Spam is a popular snack – and even considered a delicacy by some).       

My guess is that some of you here today could tell the rest of us about the days when Spam was no joke, but rather a staple in their diet.  Spam was developed during the mid-1930s, when Jay Hormel noticed that the perfectly good – but not necessarily desirable, pork-shoulder meat was going to waste at his meat-packing plant.  He came up with the idea of processing that meat with a little ham, squeezing it into a can and selling it as an affordable meat for a financially strapped populace.  The name “Spam” was the winning entry in a nationwide contest, but the etymology is still a subject of debate.  It was either a combination of “spiced ham” or “shoulder of pork and ham.”  At any rate, Spam became a regular feature on the tables in many Depression-era homes.
         
It was World War II, though, that really put Spam on the map, so to speak. As Americans prepared for war, remembering that today is the 66^th Anniversary of D-Day, logistical planners knew that getting fresh meat out to troops on the move would be virtually impossible, so they needed a portable and preserveable alternative.  Spam fit the bill perfectly and became a fixture in the canned K-rations of every GI from Germany to Guadalcanal.  It also became a standard part of the food aid offered to displaced refugees and Allied nations throughout the war.           

For the average GI, Spam was both a blessing and a curse.  By war’s end, the military had bought, shipped and served 150 million pounds of Spam, and many soldiers in the field ate it three times a day for almost the duration of the war, turning Spam into another entry in their lexicon of four-letter words.  Whether they served in Germany, Italy, France, North Africa, Asia or the Pacific, soldiers and Marines had shared in common the danger of combat, and the ever-present threat of more Spam.           

Given that history, we might think of Spam as the food of last resort – an emergency ration for people living on the edge of life and death.  And while it may not be what we want for dinner under normal circumstances, in tough times it could be a godsend.           

The prophet Elijah lived on the edge and was the kind of guy who Spam could have been made for (that is, if Elijah, as a Jew, could have eaten pork shoulder, but you get the point).  He appears suddenly in 1 Kings 17 as a prophet standing before King Ahab and proclaiming a drought upon the land (v. 1).  At God’s command, he then immediately journeys out into the desert, into the teeth of the drought, and is told to rely on the ravens to feed him “bread and meat” in the morning and evening (v. 6).  Although Elijah’s fare was probably a lot like that of a soldier in a foxhole, he was at least being sustained until the water ran out because of the drought (v. 7).           

So God gives Elijah new marching orders to go to Zarephath in the region of Sidon, which was the home turf of the god Baal and the home of his soon-to-be archenemy Queen Jezebel, the pagan wife of Israel’s King Ahab.           

The prophet, in other words, has been ordered into enemy territory with no rations.           

There, God says, the prophet will take up residence for a time and will be fed by a widow.           

If Elijah was already living on the edge, this news couldn’t have been too encouraging.  Not only was he in enemy territory, but the land was in the midst of a horrific drought, and food was scarce.  Of all the people in Zarephath whom God could command to feed him (v. 9), a widow would be the least likely to have any food to offer him because widows were among the most vulnerable and destitute people in ancient society.  Plus, this widow had another mouth to feed in the person of her son.  It’s a situation that makes eating cold Spam in a foxhole look like a smorgasbord by comparison.           

So if we think our life stinks at times?  Let’s review Elijah’s life at this point:
• The king of Israel is his enemy.
• The wicked queen hates his guts.
• He’s on the run from the law.
• God sends him into enemy territory.
• For food, he’s at the mercy of the poorest of the poor.           

And yet, Elijah has already learned that God will come through for him because of his experience with the ravens.  It may have been only the Spam equivalent that he received, but it sustained him, much like the repetitive meals of manna and quail sustained the Israelites in the Sinai desert on the way to the Promised Land.  Now God was giving Elijah another opportunity to test God’s provision while teaching another to do the same.           

Elijah sees this poor woman gathering some sticks to make a last meal for herself and her son and, in a way that seems a bit rude and demanding to modern readers, doesn’t ask but demands her to bring him a drink and “a morsel of bread in your hand” (v. 11).           

The widow seems to know that Elijah is an Israelite by her response (“As the Lord your God lives” [emphasis added]; in other words, “Yahweh may be your God, but  isn’t my god”), and she makes it clear that the conditions in Zarephath are no different than those from whence he came.  She has nothing but “a handful of meal in a jar” and “a little oil in a jug” – the equivalent of her last can of Spam, which she’s using to prepare a last meal for her and her son (v. 12).           

Elijah is then audacious enough to ask that she feed him, God’s prophet, first in an act of faith.  Do this, he says, and God will provide for you and for God’s prophet by never letting either the meal or the oil run out during the length of the drought (v. 14).  The meals may become a little repetitive, but there will always be enough.           

Elijah’s promise comes true, of course.  God does provide, and numerous other stories reveal that this is God’s pattern for those who are faithful.  From manna in the desert, to feeding 5,000 on a Galilean hillside with five loaves and two fish, God is a master logistician who cares for people living on the edge.  In the midst of scarcity, God reveals abundance – and even if that abundance isn’t exactly what we want … it’s usually covers what we need.           

The widow’s faithful risk of her last morsel of food is especially important for the fact that she’s a poor, marginalized Gentile who trusts the God of Israel more than the Israelite royalty who refuse to heed Elijah’s call for repentance and trust in God’s provision over and against the worship of false gods.  Later, Jesus would recall the story of this widow’s faithfulness and blessing by God as an indictment of his own people’s failure to care for the marginalized and the outsider (Luke 4:25-26).           

The lesson we need to be spammed with constantly is that God’s provision for us is contingent on our willingness to share with others who may need it more.  Even if we’re like the widow in Zarephath with only a can of Spam left on the shelf, God invites us to share what we have, trusting in God’s abundant provision for our needs.           

It’s a reminder that we should never be complaining about what we don’t have, but celebrating what we do have … even if it’s only a can of Spam.

Resume Workshop Cancelled

The resume writing workshop that was scheduled at the church today has been cancelled.