sermon – Page 7

Sunday’s Sermon – Know Your Limits – 1 Corinthians 9:16-23

February 4, 2018 Leave a Comment

Have you ever reached a point where you just couldn’t hold back anymore, and had to let something out? Like when your favorite song comes on the radio but there are other people in the car. So you just sort of tap your feet and nod your head, but then the chorus comes on, and you finally let go and belt it out? Or if you have some fantastic news to share, the kind that makes you giddy and excited, so much so that you blurt it out the moment you see a good friend, before they can even answer your “guess what?” Imagine for a moment what it feels like to have all of that enthusiasm or energy building up inside of you. Put another way, what drives you and makes you passionate? What topic can you go on and on about for hours in great detail with very little, if any, prompting from someone else?

For the apostle Paul, the answer was “the gospel.” That is, the good news about Jesus Christ. He was ecstatic about his ministry and mission in sharing this with others. Throughout his letters to early believers, you can feel his passion and energy. In our passage today he articulates a bit more behind his motivations as he describes and defends his authority as an apostle to this in Corinth. This isn’t just a casual hobby, or something he does to get some sort of reward. He feels compelled to do it. It’s something he cannot resist. In fact, he knows that something will be missing if he doesn’t; he’ll be doomed if he lets this opportunity pass him by. This is Paul’s calling, and he wants to be clear to the people that he’s not in it for the money, or any other gain, but rather for the sake of the calling itself.

I am a huge fan of reality tv shows that allow contestants to compete in their areas of passion. Currently, those are Top Chef and Project Runway. Both shows highlight the creativity of the chefs or designers, with the judges and mentors calling on them to dig deeper into their own points of view and come up with end products that are innovative and push the envelope, not just maintaining the status quo. The contestants are pressed to do something revolutionary and inspirational. I imagine Paul would have loved to have been a contestant on “Rome’s Next Top Apostle.” He had ideas spilling out, and a drive and passion that would have put him at the top of the group. But I wonder if that might have gotten him in trouble a bit. You see, invariably on these shows, designers and chefs will try to do too much. All of the ideas get put into one dish or one outfit, and it ends up muddled or confused or chaotic. They lose a sense of focus, an understanding of the audience or challenge, and lack a coherent point of view. Over and over again we hear the judges encouraging them to “edit, edit, edit” and to create things that are innovative, but also show some restraint. They don’t quite have to do it all at once.

Maybe, though, Paul could roll with this approach. As he describes his work as an apostle, he indicates that he has placed some limits on himself already. In the verses leading up to this, he refers directly to his refusal to take funds for this work, so that the financial pieces will not encumber the communities he serves. Indeed, he is making himself available for free. Going further back, we might recall the text from chapter 8 which we read last week, that discusses the importance of Christian communities limiting their eating of meat sacrificed to pagan idols so as not to be a stumbling block with others in their community for whom that might be a slippery slope back into those cultural practices of other gods. In all of this discussion, Paul limits his rights as an apostle for the good of the community and its witnesses. He identifies limits, his own and those he believes to be faithful approaches to living, for the good of the community.

He also embraces the limits of other perspectives. He embraces the limits of other groups to become a servant and share the good news in a way that can truly be heard in a variety of contexts. Rather than just ramming Bible verses down their throats or screaming until he is hoarse, Paul enters their world and experience it from their point of view. From within those limits, he keeps his grounding in his passion, in Christ, and is able to proclaim his message in powerful ways, ways that can actually be heard because he is within the limits of what others understand. He works within the frameworks of others to accomplish amazing things.

Last fall I was introduced to the amazing story of Phil Hansen, an artist whose work reveals unbridled creativity[i]. He was a featured speaker at the Ted conference in 2013. For those of you who might be unfamiliar with “Ted Talks,” they come from a nonprofit, nonpartisan group devoted to “ideas worth spreading,” in the form of short and powerful talks. It began in 1984 as a conference featuring Technology, Entertainment, and Design, but has expanded to include almost every topic imaginable today in more than one hundred languages. Today, TED is a global community, welcoming people from every discipline and culture who seek a deeper understanding of the world. I want to invite you to find a place where you can see and hear this video – it’s a little longer, almost 10 minutes – and in watching it imagine what it might tell us about Paul’s journey to share the gospel and our own calling to live as disciples of Jesus Christ.

https://www.ted.com/talks/phil_hansen_embrace_the_shake

Many times we hear the phrase “know your limits” and see it is as a discouragement or a negative, implying that we are unable to do something. Today I would suggest that Paul’s approach to evangelism turns that idea on its head. Knowing the limits of one’s community and context are what allow Paul to excel, and indeed expand and grow the kingdom of God for the sake of the gospel. The limitations, it seems, gives way to creativity. Just as Phil’s embracing the shake opened the door for new ways of living into his calling, Paul’s embracing of different perspectives and worldviews allowed him to fully live into proclaiming the message he just couldn’t help but share. No matter the limitations, it seems, God finds a way to get the message across. As disciples today, maybe we should also embrace the frameworks or limitations we might have or think we have, and consider how the Holy Spirit might breathe new creative life into our retelling of God’s story. When we do, we will be truly living for the sake of the gospel.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
February 4, 2018

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[i] Phil Hansen (February 2013). Embrace the Shake. https://www.ted.com/talks/phil_hansen_embrace_the_shake

Sunday’s Sermon – In Good Company – Psalm 111

January 28, 2018 Leave a Comment

In Good Company

Today is a day of celebration! As a congregation, we gather for special events that allow us to rejoice in the ministry God has called us to here at Heritage Presbyterian Church. The newsletter report this past week is full of excitement and good news about the places and ways we have seen God at work in the past year. Our congregational meeting builds on that foundation as we anticipate another year together. And, of course, there is much to be appreciative of with the incredible response we have received in the face of the tremendous task of replacing and repairing various parts of our HVAC system. Looking around this room today, I see a glimpse of the great cloud of witnesses. I think about the many gifts you offer to our life together, and the ways that everyone here contributes to what it means to be a family of faith. This is just as true for those who have been here since near the beginning to those who have recently held the loaves of bread that welcome new visitors. Without you, all of you, here, it would not be the same. I feel truly blessed to be in such great company. And when surrounded by so many blessings, there is only one thing to do – give thanks.

The Psalmist knew this well. Psalm 111 begins with the exclamation “Hallelujah!” which the NRSV translates rightly as “Praise the Lord!” It is meant to be a joyous song of praise, a boasting in God. We might recall the slogan of the Reformation, “to God alone be the glory.” To begin with this exclamation reminds us of the root of all of that which we celebrate – God. Whenever we become aware of life’s blessings, we are prompted to give credit where credit is due – to God. And, as I shared with the children, in today’s Psalm, the songwriter covers it from A to Z. The Psalm also covers the entire history of the people of Israel. The verses map out a fly-over of the history of God’s interaction with God’s creation, sweeping through all of time and space to remind the community gathered of all that God has done, from creation to the parting of the sea. This psalm tells the whole story of the people of God. Which means it tells our story, too.

This morning, we have engaged in some storytelling ourselves, as we have recalled moments of celebration in the past year. We have given thanks to those who have gone above and beyond in dedication to ministry through the Watwood Window of Service Award. We have highlighted facts and figures and moments in our common life. But to put this celebration in the context of the Psalm, we might also remind ourselves that God has been at work well before the past year. Those named today will join others dating back to 1991 who have received the same award (you can read them in your bulletin insert, along with the story of the project that inspired the award). We may be worshiping in a unique location for the start of this year, but as one member reminded me, it’s not that different from the very first place this congregation met, in a day care center on highway 92. The stories that we tell today weave together with our past in rich ways.

And, lest we think it’s all about us, the Psalmist reminds us that our stories intertwine with those of God’s people throughout the ages. In faith, we are connected to believers in every time and place. When we read this Psalm, or any psalm, in worship, we are repeating a centuries old worship practice. We are taking our place among the company of the upright. There is a beautiful song released in 2008 by entertainer Julianne Hough that almost reads like a modern interpretation of a psalm. It begins:

Look at me, can’t believe I finally made it here
Feeling like I’m where I belong, singing my hallelujah song[i]!

It seems that when we sing praises, particularly to God, we find ourselves in good company. Kindred spirits and friends are found. Our thanksgiving and hallelujah songs are the beginnings of community, and are some of the best descriptors of what it means to be “the upright” – that is, God’s people, giving praise. Anne Apple notes:

The essential structure of God’s gathered people is to be an unfolding narrative, rather than a rigid institutional system[ii].

That is the kind of story we tell with our Hallelujahs. The psalm suggests a way of being for us as God’s people. Thanksgiving should mark our time together here in this church and in our lives. The key is an increased awareness of God’s presence and role in our lives. As Thomas D. Parker says:

To live as if there were no God is to live in a space too small for our souls to grow and flourish[iii].

Instead, we are called to notice and name God, so that we are better able to see the big picture. It can begin with the simple practice of asking “where have you seen God today?” What if that was what we said to each other during the passing of the peace, or as we passed in the hallways? Chances are it would be less passing and more bonding. The same can be asked in the car running errands or around a dinner table. Or, differently framed, “what would you thank God for today?” In doing this, we will begin to see the magnitude of the God the psalmist talks about. Parker continues:
Those who revere (“fear”) God live in a larger world, because they allow themselves to be open to something greater, something better, that lies deeply within even the most ordinary experiences[iv].
A life of thanksgiving and hallelujah is “living large.”

The psalmist prepares us for such a way of being. The work begins with a hallelujah, which roots us in an understanding of God’s presence throughout it all. Then, our songs of praise and thanksgiving bind us together in community in powerful ways. I think this happens in part because our gratitude reveals what we have in common. By offering praise together, we are celebrating that which we have in common. Last year, a Danish tv channel produced a powerful commercial about community titled “All That We Share[v].” Take a look:

Every time those individuals stepped outside of their boxes, they were singing a hallelujah. When there was clapping, or signs of acceptance or reassurance, a knowing look, or even just a moment of acknowledgement for that which we cannot understand about each other, there was a gratitude for the good company they were in. In those moments of naming all that we share, we might also hear the voice of the Psalmist giving thanks to God for what connects us – that we are all beloved children of God. Gratitude and grace go hand in hand.

In her book on prayer, writer Anne LaMott argues that there are only three types of prayers, “Help,” “Thanks,” and “Wow.” In speaking about thanksgiving, she, too, talks about the importance of it being a fully embodied act just as the Psalm introduces. She writes:

Gratitude begins in our hearts and then dovetails into behavior . . . You breathe in gratitude, and you breathe it out, too. Once you learn how to do that, then you can bear someone who is unbearable[vi].

For LaMott, the idea of gratitude stems from an understanding of grace, and brings us to a sense of community; “from the package of self-obsessed madness to a spiritual awakening[vii].” And it leads us to act accordingly. Our Hallelujahs go from being words on our lips to the words of our lives.

Today, I invite you to live out the Psalm together here and now. Step outside of whatever box you might be in and give thanks to God for all that we share. Find some additional good company, here in this room. Sit next to new people at lunch (and maybe even the next time you come to worship). It is a safe space, and a brave space. Here is where we can learn and grow, so that when we go through those doors, we can step out of the other boxes we are in. This is what it means to give thanks with our whole hearts, offering everything we are to God and to each other. For God has indeed done marvelous and amazing things, and we have been included as part of that story. Hallelujah! Let’s praise the Lord! For we are in good company. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
January 28, 2018

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[i] Julianne Hough, “My Hallelujah Song” 2008 Mercury Records, a Division of UMG Recordings, Inc. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2mu0g3ir_w, accessed 1/25/18.
[ii] Anne H. K. Apple, “Pastoral Perspective: Psalm 111,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iii] Thomas D. Parker, “Theological Perspective: Psalm 111,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iv] Thomas D. Parker, “Theological Perspective: Psalm 111,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[v] “All That We Share” Tv2, published on YouTube January 27, 2017 – 3:01 length – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jD8tjhVO1Tc accessed 1/25/18.
[vi] Anne Lamott, Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers, (New York: Riverhead Books, 2012).
[vii] Anne Lamott, Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers, (New York: Riverhead Books, 2012).

Sunday’s Sermon: First Responders, Mark 1:14-20

January 21, 2018 Leave a Comment

Without fail, the same prayer was lifted at the end of each Session meeting at a particular church: “Lord, thank you for those who serve in our military and the first responders.” It was the contribution of the same elder each month as we made our way around the circle. And even though I had come to expect hearing it, it was never offered as merely routine. It was always spoken with a deep sense of gratitude and appreciation and a passionate plea for God’s blessing and protection for those who serve. It made me take notice more of those who were serving in these roles, whether it was the volunteer fire department chief who was also around the table or an officer in uniform. I am impressed by the dedication of these public servants: from firefighters to police officers to EMTs to those who serve in the National Guard or have enlisted in a branch of the military. When things go wrong and people are in trouble, they are often the first to respond. More than that, even, they go to work every day expecting that this might happen, anticipating that they will rise to the calls placed before them, sometimes putting themselves in extreme danger. They don’t know what crisis is in store, but are willing to go and serve. Such service, I think, is an act of courage, compassion, and faith, and can serve as an inspiration for us to respond in our own ways to opportunities for service.

Our gospel text today is about first responders; those who took enormous risks to answer a strange man calling to them from the shoreline. Like our modern day first responders, the disciples answer a sounding alarm, particularly in Mark’s telling of the story. This is the gospel that begins not with a sweet birth narrative, but with a wild man from the wilderness, John the Baptist, shouting words from Isaiah. In just a few short verses, we have a whirlwind of activity, as Jesus is baptized, then spends 40 days being tempted in the wilderness (captured in two verses). The messenger from God, John, is removed from the narrative by arrest, and Jesus enters again. These verses are full of markers of time, which almost make the start to the gospel read as a sounding alarm; a high-level alert that something big is happening. Jesus spells it out clearly: the time has been fulfilled and the kingdom of God is at hand.

This proclamation brings a dual sense of alarm and reassurance. On one hand, everything is about to change. A new day has dawned, and like we discussed last week with the story of Samuel, it is time to wake up and pay attention. On the other hand, there is comfort in knowing that the fullness of time has come. It brings a reassurance that the outcome is already known or at least anticipated. As Ted Smith notes:

Jesus does not just announce the time. He fulfills it, in word and in flesh. And he calls people to respond. . . . As Mark tells the time, God takes the initiative. The reign of God is not the product of discipleship, but the precondition of it[i].

Jesus’ first words in our text don’t just introduce the scene; they test the footings of the foundation and provide the assurance that everything is ready to go.

As is common in Mark, the word “immediately” punctuates the responses of these two sets of brothers. Like the people of Nineveh repent immediately after Jonah’s very short sermon, the disciples’ response is complete and almost instant. Commentaries are quick to remind us that:

Nothing in vs. 16-20 tells us why the fishermen do what they do, why they leave their nets and the hired workers and follow Jesus. Somehow they are compelled to follow him, a man whom they cannot understand, on a journey that will perplex and confuse them to a destination as yet unspecified. The fishermen, now disciples, act in faith – not a faith that understands, takes only calculated risks, or seeks after reward, but a faith that responds to a call from outside, a call that must remain unclear and even frightening . . . Responding to Jesus provides the disciples with no answers for their life struggles, but only questions. It provides them with no security, but rather with rejection and even danger[ii].

What we do know is that these four men responded. They don’t appear to have superhuman characteristics, or even be particularly qualified for such a calling as they received. In fact, John Calvin described them as “rough mechanics,” meant to illustrate that the story was not about who they were, but about who God would help them become[iii].

The translation of the call in the NRSV, and the one many of us quote, is a bit misleading. It has Jesus implying that he will teach them to fish, an action. In reality, Jesus promises in the Greek to make them fishermen. It’s a noun, not a verb. This story is not about teaching a particular set of skills, but about transforming the lives of these first responders in a way that shapes their very identity, so that following Jesus would not just be something they clock in and do, but a part of the central core to who they are. They are not called to just add one more thing to their busy lives, and pencil Jesus in for a shift every so often. No, they were called to embrace a whole new way of life, one that even involved leaving their livelihood and their families. And immediately, even with the full weight of their entire identity at stake, they left their nets and followed him.

This is a story about more than just four fishermen. It is also about us, now, and what we are going to make of the realization that the kingdom of God is near. As professor Lamar Williamson writes:

Jesus’ “Follow me” confronts us all with a decision that lies deeper than the question of earning a living. His call to discipleship focuses on the question of life’s ultimate loyalty, a question more basic than that of vocational choice. It speaks to Christians whose lives are humdrum, whose discipleship has degenerated into a preoccupation with things like nets and boats and hired servants.

This text calls us to consider whether or not we might identify as first responders in faith.

On a more personal level, this is a basic question of belief. Who are we following? Some of us may identify a specific moment in which we decided to call ourselves Christian, kind of like those first disciples. Others might not have an exact date, but an ongoing sense of God’s nudging along the journey, with moments of articulation. Either way, we know that our faith is always a response to the initiative of God. That’s how it works. God lays the foundation, brings things into fullness, opens our eyes, sounds the alarm, and we respond to that grace. We do this by singing Jesus Loves Me and other hymns of praise; through wrestling with scripture and asking tough questions; and when we walk in the door on a Sunday morning hoping to hear the good news again so that when we walk out we are changed. Every time we open our Bibles or begin to pray, we are responding to God in faith. We are saying we have decided to follow Jesus. We are identifying ourselves as disciples.

But it doesn’t stop there. Elton Brown says:

Christianity is always both for now and for the long haul; both a moment and a lifetime[iv].

Being a disciple of Jesus Christ requires ongoing, daily work. It’s easy for us to get caught up in the tangled nets we hold, ones we might need to drop in order to most fully live into the realities of God’s kingdom. It is easy for us to let others bear the burden of the work of discipleship because we are too busy, or not qualified, or tired, or just disinterested. We can become apathetic about this calling. To those dull places, Jesus comes again, and offers a refreshed identity and understanding of ourselves with the promise that we can become something different.

Our text for today offers us the opportunity to begin, or renew, our identity as disciples of Jesus Christ. To scan our eyes on the horizons of our lives and see where God breaks into even the most ordinary moments of our existence, and invites us to be something more.

As Eugene Peterson phrases it in The Message: “Time’s up! God’s kingdom is here. Change your life and believe the Message.” (Mark 1:15)

May we be first responders in our lives of faith, on our feet and leaping into action, immediately reacting to God’s presence among us. Then, we can truly call ourselves disciples. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
January 21, 2018

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[i] Ted. A Smith, “Homiletical Perspective, Mark 1:14-20,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Third Sunday After Epiphany,”Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year B, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993).
[iii] John Calvin, Commentary on a Harmony of the Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Vol. 1, trans. William Pringle (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Printing Co., 1845), 242-44., as referenced by Lee Barrett, “Theological Perspective, Mark 1:14-20,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iv] Elton W. Brown, “Pastoral Perspective, Mark 1:14-20,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon – Sleeping In – 1 Samuel 3:1-10, Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

January 14, 2018 Leave a Comment

Do you think Eli just wanted five more minutes of sleep, or at least peace and quiet? Rest, after all, is hard to come by. Studies consistently show that very few of us get the suggested seven or eight hours at night, and for a variety of reasons, much of that becomes interrupted. So perhaps Eli just wanted a moment to collect himself before another day in the temple; another day of endless questions from the young Samuel; another day of wondering where God was in the midst of it all. His eyesight had grown dim, which we might read as a sign of aging, yes, but also a sense that the priest’s theological vision and faith might be waning as well.

“The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread,” begins our story. It was a quiet, somber time for God’s people that followed a difficult cycle which we read about in Judges. Throughout that book we hear the refrain “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” God would send the people a judge to correct their ways, and the people would comply, only to eventually falling back into doing whatever they wanted to, prompting God to send yet another judge. They have taken matters into their own hands, taking things where they could get them and essentially ignoring all that God had set before them for ways of living in covenant relationship. Later verses will reveal that Eli’s own sons have abused their positions as priests, committing some pretty heinous sins, including stealing from the offerings and sleeping with women like Hannah who had come to worship God at the tent of meeting.

The picture is fairly bleak, and understandably so the people are cynical, and may have even wondered if God had fallen asleep on them. The narrative grinds to a halt just before our text, with the slow stillness of silence. The people of God have fallen asleep, far from an engaged relationship with the divine.

In 1819, Washington Irving published what has become an iconic short story about “Rip Van Winkle.” It is set in the years before and after the Revolutionary War in a small village at the foot of New York’s Catskill Mountains. The title character is loved, but lazy. He avoids the hard work, so much so that one day he wanders into the mountains and encounters an odd group of old men. He drinks some of what they have to offers, and falls asleep. For twenty years.

A long nap sure is tempting, isn’t it? In these cold winter months, sleeping in is quite the tempting offer. We want to remain comfortable, and so we burrow deeper under our covers where it is warm and cozy. But when applied to our spiritual lives, this proves to be a troublesome metaphor for living. As Commentator Lawrence Wood notes:

We are sleeping. We do not fully sense the divinity around us. Exhaustion has so dulled our hearts, minds, and souls that we can work all day in the temple but never hear God[i].

There are so many draining things in our lives that it is easy to become fatigued and weary. When the world gets heavy, so do our theological eyelids. It can become harder and harder to see God in our midst. We may even turn to other sources for answers. When all seems at a dead end, we resign ourselves to dormancy and sleep. This is the position of Eli, and perhaps other priests in today’s text. They are asleep, and because of this they almost miss the rise of a new day. Fortunately, there is an early bird in their midst.

Samuel, the long awaited and prayed for child from a faithful woman named Hannah, has been dedicated to a life in the temple. We don’t know his exact age, only that he is a young boy, ministering to the Lord. It seems he is not so deep into his sleep that he is unable to be stirred. He hears a voice calling his name. And he responds. Except it isn’t the voice of Eli like he would expect, and so he is sent back to his slumbers. The voice calls again. Again Samuel comes. Again he is dismissed.

A lot can be missed if you stay asleep long enough. After twenty years Rip Van Winkle woke up and discovered that everything had changed, from his appearance to the town. An entire revolution has come and gone, and Rip has missed all of it. Can you imagine missing something as big as this? And yet, we too are at risk of losing sight ourselves of the transformation God is doing in the world. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. offers powerful reflections on this story in a sermon he delivered at the National Cathedral almost exactly fifty years ago. He noted:

one of the great liabilities of life is that all too many people find themselves living amid a great period of social change, and yet they fail to develop the new attitudes, the new mental responses, that the new situation demands. They end up sleeping through a revolution[ii].

As it turns out in this text, God is not sleeping. Far from it. God is about to embark on a radical new way of interacting with God’s people. God is preparing to send them a king to lead and guide them. And God’s voice will not be silenced or ignored. It comes again, surer than the snooze button on your alarm clock, and Samuel is awake. This third time, Eli finally clicks in. It’s the voice of God. Suddenly, everything changes. Eli gives Samuel a response that will shape the course of his future, “speak Lord, for your servant is listening.” The time to sleep has ended.

There is a raved about alarm clock among parents of young children. It’s called the “ok to wake clock.” Essentially, it is a clock to help little ones stay in their room until the right time in the morning, and for ones who can’t yet read the clock, it gives a color cue, turning green when the time comes. Then the child knows that it’s ok to wake up. Our text for this morning should be our “ok to wake” cue to listen to the calls God is placing on our lives.

As Joseph Price describes it:

To be called by God is an act of spiritual intimacy and divine urgency. To be called by God means that God knows one’s name and, in knowing one’s name, exercises a powerful influence on the person. To be called by God also indicates a need for immediate response because the Almighty has indeed summoned one to a specific vocation or course of action[iii].

Call is a powerful thing. It begins by listening, but isn’t fully complete until we respond with our actions, lived out discipleship as we seek to follow Christ. This is what King was getting at when he talked about developing new attitudes and mental responses that the new situations demand in our world. We are called to participate in the ongoing revolution God has going in this world. To do so, we have to wake up and look around, listening with a servant’s heart.

It is fitting that this passage comes to us on a holiday weekend where we remember the life and legacy of Dr. King. He embodied a spirit of wakeful listening, and his words and actions inspired many to listen to callings in their own life to stand up against systemic injustice in our country. Although the work is not yet finished, far from it in fact, his servant spirit lives on. Tomorrow, many will do so with intentional acts of service in his honor. But the truth is, it is ongoing work that should be done every calendar day. The key for us is to pay attention, and listen for God’s word to come to us, even when we least expect it, because we all have a part to play in that calling.

If you find yourself hesitating in your own qualifications, consider the promise laid out in Psalm 139, that God knows us, intimately and deeply, and that we are, body and soul, marvelously made in the image of our creator, shaped from the inside out, created to be a part of what God is doing in the world. It isn’t a journey we travel alone. God is behind us, ahead of us, around us, a “reassuring presence, coming and going[iv].” We were made for this.

We have been knit together in our mother’s womb, and knit together as a part of the family of God. And God calls us not to stay asleep, but to wake up and do something with the gifts we have been given.

The call story of Samuel gives us a rich understanding of how call comes, and the reminder that our God is persistent with it. Even if it takes three or more times to get the message across, God calls. Samuel also reminds us that God’s call extends to everyone. As Professor Richard Boyce notes:

It takes both the attentiveness of the young Samuel’s ears and the wisdom of the old priest’s heart and mind to birth this new office in the service of the Lord[v].

Answering God’s call is the work of community, old and young together, to bring about the revolution God has in store. For the people of God in 1 Samuel, God is ushering in a new age, a new way of being in the world, a new way of leading God’s people. And it all starts with the courage a young boy and an old priest have to wake up, and pay attention. May it be so with us. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
January 14, 2018
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[i] Lawrence Wood, “Homiletical Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution,” sermon delivered at the National Cathedral on March 31, 1968. https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/publications/knock-midnight-inspiration-great-sermons-reverend-martin-luther-king-jr-10, accessed 1/13/18.
[iii] Joseph L. Price, “Theological Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iv] Psalm 139:5, The Message
[v] Richard Boyce, “Exegetical Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon – A Star to Follow – Matthew 2:1-12

January 7, 2018 Leave a Comment

The skies are an amazing thing. Do you remember last August when many of us donned special glasses to experience the solar eclipse, with some traveling a short distance north to experience nearly two minutes of totality? People were enraptured and amazed at the sudden and dramatic changes brought from above. It was labeled as an event of a lifetime, or at least of a decade. Recently, there’s been other activity worth noting, too. Did you happen to look up at night this past week? As the new year began, we experienced the first full moon right away and it was spectacular. It was huge, so much so that even on Wednesday night, I felt like after driving over the crest of the hill near Etowah High School I would be able to just reach out and touch it, or like it was sitting on top of Kroger.

As it turns out, it wasn’t quite that close. According to EarthSky.org is was about 221,559 miles from us, but I did learn that it was a supermoon, which means that at the same time it becomes full it reaches its perigree, the point in the moon’s elliptical orbit when it is closest to the earth[i]. (Perigree simply means “near earth”). The average distance of the moon is around 238,000 miles, and this week we observed just how big of a difference 17,000 miles can make[ii]. This makes the moon appear up to 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than usual[iii]. If you missed it, there’s more activity to come. On January 31 we will experience a blue moon, a second full moon within the same calendar month, and on that night there will be a total lunar eclipse as well. All of this makes me wish I knew way more about astronomy, because of the power and majesty of what we see overhead. The stars tell a powerful story.

A star seems to be a central character of our biblical story today as we celebrate the Epiphany, that moment of divine manifestation of God on earth through Jesus Christ as related by Matthew’s gospel. This story completes our nativity scenes with the arrival of travelers from the east. They are called magi, wise men, magicians, or even kings, and the traditions that have spun off of them resulted in much speculation about their mysterious identities. In an attempt to nail down the story, legend ventured that there must have been 3, one for each of the named gifts, and some even went so far as to give them names and cultural identities. But whether they were practitioners of magic, priests of royal courts, or astrologer and scholars, it is their actions that give them their role in the story. They were willing to follow a star.

Many have tried to identify the nature of the star mentioned in Matthew. Some say it was Halley’s Comet, which could have been seen around 12 BCE, others propose that it actually was a cluster of multiple stars that shone brightly. It may have been a supernova explosion or even a planet. In The Divine Comedy, Dante describes God as “the love that moves the stars[iv],” which inspired James C. Howell to offer that this was some sort of supernatural phenomenon meant to demonstrate that:

God is determined to be found, and will use any and all measures . . . to reach out to people who are open[v].

On Epiphany, we celebrate this moment when the stars quite literally aligned, and identify it as revelatory for Christ’s entrance into the world, which we celebrated 13 days ago. Like the angels singing on the hillside, the star is meant to point us to God’s incarnation.

Augustine wrote, “Christ was not born because the star shone forth, but it shone forth because Christ was born; we should say not that the star was fate for Christ, but that Christ was fate for the star.” (Benson Bobrick, The Fated Sky: Astrology in History (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005), 79).

The star tells the story of light coming into the world in a powerful way, one that fulfilled the promises of the prophets and caught the attention of the magi, who had the eyes to see what others, including Herod and his scribes, did not, and provided them with a direction to go.

Finding one’s way can be hard, particularly when stars are involved. In the Disney movie Moana, the title character is attempting to restore the heart of the ocean and employs the help of the demigod Maui. After a series of events they finally begin to make their way, it becomes apparent that she does not know the basics of sailing, or how to use the stars above as a guide. She begs Maui, “teach me to sail,” to which he replies, “it’s called wayfinding, Princess.” He’s referring to an ancient Polynesian practice which dates back at least 3,000 years of navigating the ocean using deep knowledge and intense observation of the stars in the sky and the swells of the water[vi]. But when he continues, it’s clear he means more than just a geographical orientation and nautical skill. Maui says to Moana,

“It’s not just sails and knots. It’s seeing where you’re going in your mind. And knowing where you are, by knowing where you’ve been[vii].”

In the same way, there is more to the story of the magi finding the baby Jesus than just a simple delivery of gifts with the star as some sort of GPS. This is a story of journey and discovery that teaches us a lot about what it means to search for God in the midst of our own life experiences. Commentator William Arnold lays it out in this way:

First, these wise people had been studying. They knew their history. They hadn’t merely stumbled onto this momentous event. They had searched their own past and their sacred texts, and the result of their study was a readiness, or at least a willingness, to recognize the sign when it appeared.

Second, these scholarly folk did not keep their noses in the books all the time. They also were keen observers of the world around them. . . .

Third, they were willing to seek confirmation of what they had learned and seen. They moved, put their feet . . . in motion to follow this sign. They took a chance on being proven wrong – or right!

Fourth, they were willing to ask for directions along the way, even if they were wrong in their choice of resources (Herod).

Fifth, having found the confirmation of their convictions . . . they responded with all the gratitude they could muster.

Sixth . . . they still remained vigilant and attentive – open to further visions and insight – and thus they were responsive to their dream-delivered warning to go home by another road[viii].

The magi provide a powerful illustration of what the journey of faith, and the journey of life, can look like when we focus our intentions and attention in the right places. Willingness, observing, action, seeking guidance, responding with gratitude, and continued openness; these sound almost like a list of new year’s resolutions of ways to be more faithful. The magi help give us tools that can help us find our own stars to follow towards the epiphanies God has in store for us in the coming year.

There is a tradition that is becoming popular among churches around the country at this time of year, marking this day of Epiphany with the receiving of “star words[ix].” They are simple verbs or adjectives meant to give a point of focus or inspiration for the coming year, through which we can experience God in an epiphany-type way; unexpected, challenging, refreshing and renewing. This morning, you will have the opportunity to receive one of these words in worship. Although there is no “star words police,” you are encouraged to simply pick one from the basket, receiving it as a gift, rather than trying to select a word that you particularly like or think you need. One of my clergy friends described it this week as “the word picking you.” The stories of these are pretty amazing, as they become woven into the life of the one who carries it. You don’t have to figure out its meaning to you right away; simply let it rest with you. You are encouraged to put them in a place you will see them often, and ours even have a sticky-back to them for a secure placement. There should be enough for everyone, and there are also some smaller stars available that you can try to write a word on, or simply take to put in a second spot in your world to remind you of your drawn star. May these stars be one way to help guide you, as that star did for the magi long ago, to a place where you discover God breaking into the world in powerful and personal ways, as we hear the carol’s refrain:

O Star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.

Let our next journey begin. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
January 7, 2018

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[i] Bruce McClure and Deborah Byrd, “2018’s closest supermoon January 1,” January 1, 2018, EarthSky.org, January 1, 2018, http://earthsky.org/space/what-is-a-supermoon.
[ii] Jesse Emspak and Tariq Malik, “Supermoon 2018: When and How to See January’s Two Full Moons,” www.space.com, January 1, 2018, https://www.space.com/34515-supermoon-guide.html, accessed 1/6/2018.
[iii] Emspak and Malik.
[iv] Dante, The Divine Comedy: Paradise xxxiii, l. 145, as quoted by James C. Howell.
[v] James C. Howell, “Theological Perspective: Matthew 2:1-12,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[vi] Kayleigh Hughes, “What is Wayfinding? Disney’s ‘Moana’ Introduces Viewers To The Art Of Navigation,” November 23, 2016, Bustle.com. https://www.bustle.com/articles/195766-what-is-wayfinding-disneys-moana-introduces-viewers-to-the-art-of-navigation, accessed 1/4/18.
[vii] Moana, directed by Ron Clements and John Musker, (Walt Disney, 2016).
[viii] William V. Arnold, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 2:1-12,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ix] Many attribute this idea to Rev. Marci Auld Glass, https://marciglass.com/category/starward/

Christmas Eve Sermon – More than Just a Baby – Isaiah 9:2-7, Luke 2:1-20

December 25, 2017 Leave a Comment

There are few things in life more joyful than the birth of a baby: ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, little giggles and squirms, maybe even the crying, but definitely that soft sweet smell when you hold that little one close. Tonight, we celebrate the most important birth of our faith story, and gather in the angelic glow around the manger once again, perhaps hoping to get a sense of the magic and wonder and holiness that just seems closer on this night. The story is familiar and warm, painted by Luke as new parents huddle in a stable around a baby in a manger. At the end of the gospel, we see Mary pondering all that is happening, letting the magnitude of this night sink in.

The next step for new parents is often to share the news of their little one’s arrival. Some send text messages or post on Facebook; others connect with photographers for newborn shoots and mail impressively beautiful cards to friends and family. In the case of the birth of Jesus, the angels take this role with royal proclamations sung through the hillsides. Although they didn’t mention his weight and length or exact date of birth, they give a pretty good message. This is Savior and Messiah and Lord. This is no ordinary baby.

The popular song asks “Mary, Did You Know?”, but for those of us who have read the story, we know the answer. Yes. She did. An angel came to her and explained everything that was going to happen. Similarly, one visited Joseph in a dream with a comparable message. Mary knew the significance of what was happening. And I wonder, as I hear Luke’s story again, if in these moments they were finally sinking in. If so, it makes sense that she was ushered into a stillness of contemplation and pondering as the promises of God resonated deeply within her heart. The greatness of her task was lying before her in the manger; the son of God and savior of the world, a vulnerable newborn who roots to nurse and probably doesn’t give many silent nights. What words could possibly be used to describe such juxtaposition? What could she possibly put on a birth announcement?

On a night like tonight, the words of Isaiah 9 provide richness appropriate for the coming of the Savior. Of course, these words were not written with Jesus in mind. The writer of Isaiah did not “predict” the exact circumstances of his birth in Bethlehem. But it is a powerful text, so much so that it has the power to surge beyond its original setting to illuminate and redescribe new situations[i]. It is a text reheard in the gospels and to us today as a disclosure of Jesus’ ministry, speaking of a great reversal coming to the people of God. Isaiah’s words reflect the culmination of the hope of a people in the midst of despair; the coming of a long awaited Messiah and King. One who would give God’s people a future beyond anything they have experienced or even imagined before.

The words read as a birth announcement or royal coronation speech, and make bold assertions about the very nature of God. Hearing them at the foot of the manger allows us to grab hold of the promises of old alongside the good news of the manger, and carry both with us into our present realities. This is about more than just a baby; it is about centuries of a world full of expectation. Isaiah gives four titles for the child born to help us understand the weight of the good news.

This child has been given to be Wonderful Counselor, wise and discerning. John Goldingay describes this as:

an extraordinary counselor or planner. That is, Yahweh is expert at determining what the future should bring and seeing that it does so; and Yahweh is capable of making plans that bring about events that one would never have guessed[ii].

Such a title reminds us of God’s ongoing engagement with the world in real, tangible ways. It reminds us of the promise in Isaiah 7[iii] and Matthew’s gospel of Immanuel, God-with-us.

This child is a Mighty God. These words define strength and reflect that the new king has power. It carries a particular military significance in language, and could even be translated as warrior which further highlights the surprise of the child in the manger.

Next, a reminder of the eternal nature of God – Everlasting Father. This serves as a reminder of the enduring and closeness of the relationship of the savior to us. It is meant to offer comfort and stability, “a massive antidote to anxiety when things seem to be out of control[iv].” Such a reference brings to mind a strong lineage and heritage, one marked by the house of David perhaps, but ultimately is an echo that God is Creator. Later tonight we will proclaim “in the beginning was the Word,” reminding ourselves of the ongoing presence of God in the past that is now in the present, and will continue into the future.

Finally, the child will be a Prince of Peace. An officer of well-being and shalom.

In this context shalom will then include the idea of peace, but the word commonly has the broader meaning of well-being – life as a whole going well[v].

It is not a naïve hope or wish, or some idea of utopia, but a sincere belief that the Savior has power over the world in a way that brings calm to the chaos. It proclaims reconciliation and a time when life comes back into balance yet again. Indeed it becomes a peace that passes all understanding, something that truly can only happen by the grace of God.

Can you imagine, all of these expectations put together for one new ruler? It is a vision of epic proportions, with characteristics coming together to bring about a new way of life, one that is reliable, safe, honest, and life-giving. It is an all-expansive vision, meant to usher in the coming of the kingdom of God. It is a lot to put on a birth announcement. It is a lot to say as we look at the sweet little baby Jesus in the manger. Of course, that might just be the point of it all. Because while he is front and center, this story is about more than just a baby. It is about the Savior, the light of the world, the one in whom all of our hopes and fears reside; the one who comes to us, in the most unlikely of ways, to live among us. This is good news that extends far beyond carols and crèches. Isaiah’s message points us not only to Bethlehem, but to the even bigger picture of the fullness of God’s presence in the world. It reminds us that:

Christmas morning is not a period in the story of Christianity, but a semicolon[vi].

The birth announcement of our Lord is just a punctuation mark to the bigger story of God’s love for us. It gets our attention, peaks our interest, and reminds us of the longing of God’s people to experience God’s presence long ago is our longing, too. The hopes and expectations for God to act in the world in meaningful, revolutionary ways are our desires as well. In the midst of the darkness of this night, we yearn for light to shine. And so we eagerly anticipate the coming of a wonderful counselor, mighty god, everlasting father, and prince of peace. What better place to start than the story of Jesus in the manger. So long as we remember, this is about more than just a baby. Joy to the World! The LORD is born. Amen.

Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
Christmas Eve 2017, 7:00 pm service

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[i] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah 1-39, Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998).
[ii] John Goldingay, Isaiah for Everyone (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.
[iii] Verses 14-6, and again in 8:8 and 10.
[iv] Walter Brueggemann
[v] John Goldingay.
[vi] Beth Laneel Tanner, “Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 52:7-10,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon – On the Lookout Isaiah 52:7-10; Hebrews 1:1-4

December 24, 2017 Leave a Comment

It’s almost here! Are you ready? This morning marks the fourth Sunday of our eager anticipation for Christmas, and now is the time for our final Advent preparations to welcome Christ once again. We are on the cusp of God’s breaking into the world. And as tempting as it is to launch straight into Joy to the World and Silent Night, this morning I invite you to hold on to that sense of expectancy for just a few moments longer. Let this be for us those anxious and exciting final moments before birth.

Just a reminder, it’s ok if our own experience of this is a little different for each of us; after all, families grow and change in different ways. For some, the load carried is heavy, and you may find yourself out of breath, with swollen ankles, just ready for it to be over. For others, it is joyful expectation that comes with each kick, knowing things are about to change. It may even look like the dedicated work of home visits and paperwork that lead to a dotted line on which to sign for your family to grow. Or, perhaps it has snuck up on you this year, with pangs of labor beginning when you least expect it. Regardless of the path, it has brought us to the moment of birth, the welcoming of new life. And with it, the opportunity to share some of the best news we get to proclaim: a baby is born!

I remember when we were in our pre-natal classes there was a careful list in one of the books of what to bring to the hospital. Among the clothing, snacks and other comforts was a striking item “a calling card or change for the payphone.” Clearly the material was a bit dated, but it reminds us that there was a time when we had to quite literally sit by the phone to receive such a message. That is the moment of waiting that our text from Isaiah captures, as God’s people are on the lookout for a messenger. As Beth Laneel Tanner notes:

In the ancient world, there were no CNN trucks and satellites to send news instantly from one end of the world to another. News came from runners who ran from one place to another, carrying the latest news. These messengers were seen by the sentinels of the city approaching the city long before they arrived. This gap in time led to speculation of the news the messengers were bringing. It was a time of anticipating and waiting, a time of knowing that news was coming, without knowing what the tidings would be[i].

Sentinels took their posts, watching the horizon for these messengers. This is what the morning of Christmas Eve looks like.

For God’s people in Isaiah’s time, though, this posture of waiting might have been more of a bracing for the worst scenario. Remember, this section of Isaiah was written to those in exile, in situations when all hope seemed lost.

Standing in the ruins, it is hard to envision a rebuilt city. Standing in the midst of death, it is hard to believe there will be a time of salvation and shalom[ii].

And yet, the messenger comes. Isaiah calls the sentinels, and us, to attention. It is a powerful moment, not meant to be taken lightly, this dawning of incredible news in the midst of the harsh realities of the world. Here, the words of Poet Jan Richardson are fitting as we imagine ourselves welcoming those messengers. She writes:

Blessed are you
Who bear the light in unbearable times,
Who testify to its endurance amid the unendurable,
Who bear witness to its persistence
When everything seems in shadow and grief.

Blessed are you
In whom the light lives,
In whom the brightness blazes –
Your heart a chapel,
An altar where in the deepest night
Can be seen the fire that shines forth in you
In unaccountable faith
In stubborn hope
In love that illumines
Every broken thing
It finds[iii].

This morning’s text reminds us of the gravity of the good news that is coming. Good news that is the fulfillment of all the promises of restoration and wholeness. Good news that will be a light to the darkness that Israel has experienced. The feet of the messenger tell the story; they come not with the slow, trudging footsteps of one who delivers heavy news of sorrow; but with the light, quick gait of a runner on the home stretch of a winning race that quickens the pace toward the victory tape. Those on the lookout see it immediately and know, even from a distance, that this will be a moment marked for joy. News they may have thought impossible, now is barreling towards them. God has rolled up God’s sleeves and is acting in the world to bring salvation. This is a message worth proclaiming with singing! And it is one that is made visible for the whole world – God’s salvation message has gone viral!

Paul Hanson says that:

It is a timely lesson, in that it reminded a searching people of crucial moments in time that define the meaning of all time, moments that give orientation to those tempted to fall prey to lethargy by placing them in the presence of the source of all meaning. They are reminded of the moment of creation, the mysterious origin of all that is in God’s incisive move against chaos. They are reminded of the moment of the awakening of destiny, the mysterious stirring of hope in the faithful response of the one ancestral couple. They are reminded of the moment of deliverance, the mysterious birth of a nation in divine deliverance from political bondage. And they are reminded of restoration, the return of the God without whom they are lost. Such moments define the meaning of all human life[iv].

The messengers run with the news, then pass it on to the sentinels and next all the people of Jerusalem, who are called not just to receive it, but to do something with it; to break into song and proclamation. We are meant to become messengers ourselves; ones who bear light to the world, even in the midst of challenge and who proclaim “Your God reigns.” That is the challenge of Christmas. To both receive and pass on this amazing promise of God’s love and presence with the world. To do so is a holy task. The prophet Isaiah helps get us ready.

With our eyes on the horizon, we can see that the light is coming. As we prepare to welcome the Christ child yet again tonight, may we be particularly attentive to the messengers who bear that light, and then may we be bold enough to become those messengers ourselves. In doing so, we will find the blessing of Christmas. Be on the lookout, the time has almost come. Amen.

Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
December 24, 2017, 10:00 am Service
4th Sunday in Advent

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[i] Beth Laneel Tanner, “Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 52:7-10,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Beth Laneel Tanner
[iii] Jan Richardson, “Blessed Are You Who Bear the Light,” Circle of Grace (Wanton Gospeller Press, 2015).
[iv] Paul D. Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, Interpretation, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1995)

Sunday’s Sermon – Comfort, Comfort – Isaiah 40:1-11; 2 Peter 3:8-15a

December 10, 2017 Leave a Comment

If it is raining outside, then it is highly likely we are having spaghetti for dinner. It’s an unintentional tradition that started in my family when I was growing up, but I just can’t help continuing it. For me, it seems that the solution to a rainy, dreary day is a comforting plate of pasta. Comfort foods are not a novel concept, of course. They tend to have a nostalgic factor or sentimental value to us, and are often characterized by a high calorie count, lots of carbs, or easy prep. Whether it’s fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, or warm chocolate fudge brownies, most of us tend to have those “go-to” favorites after a long day. Of course, in the South, we are known for these comfort delicacies. They are so deeply engrained in us that we may not even notice. For example, it took me a while to realize that my first response when a friend or my husband has had a bad day was to offer them something to eat. In southern culture, if someone is having a tough time, you show up with a casserole, right? It didn’t dawn on me that they weren’t necessarily hungry.

Food, of course, is among the many things that can bring us comfort. As children we have comfort objects – special blankets or stuffed animals. As adults we graduate a bit sometimes to a favorite pillow. Mister Rogers would change his shoes and sweater when he got home as a sign of settling into a comfortable place. The list of what brings us comfort can get quite lengthy.

“Comfort, comfort” are the words from Isaiah. This is a familiar text, and many of us hear it in musical form thanks to Handel’s Messiah. It strikes in us those same warm fuzzy feelings as our other ways of comforting ourselves. We hear it in the context of the holiday season, eagerly anticipating the cries of “Hallelujah!” that will come in just two weeks with the birth of Christ. However, these words are meant to convey a far greater understanding of comfort than a favorite meal or fuzzy robe and slippers. If we aren’t careful, we will gloss over them as lovely Christmas card sentiments and platitudes, and lose the rich context in which they were originally spoken. These are meant to be words of restoration and hope to the people of Israel. To capture the depth of their meaning, we need to hear them aware of the context in which they were originally shared.

Most scholars agree that the lengthy 66 chapters of Isaiah are actually a compilation of several writers, given their structure and literary profiles and thematic approaches. Chapter 40 begins what is known as “Second Isaiah,” or Deutero-Isaiah, believed to have been written around the start of the sixth century. Extending through chapter 55, this section was likely written during the exile in Babylon, earning this author the title of “Prophet of Exile.” He is also known as the “prophet of consolation,” which recognizes the heart of the message these chapters contain. Isaiah is writing in the midst of a people who have lost everything and have been separated from all they knew. Lamentations 1:3 describes their situation:

“Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude; she now lives among the nations, and finds no resting place; her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress”.

The people of Israel were in the throes of crisis, wondering if God was with them or not. As Paul Hanson notes:

This was the Judah addressed by Second Isaiah, a community that saw added to its physical suffering the anguish of being caught in a crossfire of conflicting messages: Israel is a people chosen by a loving God who will care for all its needs. God’s love has turned to wrath. Israel’s God lacks the power to withstand the assaults to Babylon and its pantheon. God is punishing Israel for its sin. God no longer loves Israel. God does not care. What sort of response did this moment of crisis require?[i]

Isaiah’s response was to return the people to a familiar, central concept of their faith. He was providing a sort of theological comfort food, if you will, meant to nourish God’s people during this time of separation. Isaiah reminds those in exile of God’s steadfast commitment to the covenant. Earlier in the Old Testament, such points of clarity have been portrayed in similar ways (see 1 Kings 22:19-24 and the first two chapters of the book of Job): a divine council deliberating about the ultimate meaning and cause of some situation. God gathers a heavenly host together with a simple message to deliver: Comfort! This proclamation reveals the very character of God and intention for God’s relationship with God’s people.

Kathleen O’Connor observes that:

The God proclaimed by Second Isaiah comes in strength with arms stretched out in triumph. But this strength itself is paradoxical, because it is not the strength of a bloody avenger, a violent brute, or a demanding judge. No, this God’s strength appears in a barely thinkable power of gentleness, in tender and caring presence, in intimacy such as a shepherd expresses when gathering the wounded, scattered flock.[ii]

Put another way, this text describes the wonder and glory of God in accessible, relational ways. Through Isaiah, God gives a glimpse of what restoration looks like; one with God at the center; a God who is loving even in the midst of passing judgment and righting the injustices in the world, whether that is lifting up those in valleys or leveling those who sit upon pompous mountains. This is no cheap grace being offered, but rather is the reconciling work of a mighty God. This is what we anticipate in Advent; the arrival of God’s love. Isaiah presents one vision of that for us today.

For God’s people in exile, it was particularly important for them to cling to this image and understanding of God. They were:

in a chaotic situation in which people were tempted either to throw out all forms of the past or to cling mindlessly to tradition out of fear of change, [and so] it was terribly important to maintain a comprehensive vision of reality ordered around one life-giving Center[iii].

Second Isaiah’s words needed to be powerful and persuasive in order to generate the kind of hope and faith that could return them to a relationship with God that would lead them back to Jerusalem. It seems that the promise of God’s love would do just that.

“Comfort, Comfort”; these are words of assurance, and one response to the cries of “how long?!” lifted here last week. They are tender words of promise that can calm and quiet the chaos we experience in our lives, from the gut-wrenching difficult moments of loss to the drama and busyness of a holiday season. Their words can wrap us in a heavenly hug and again focus our attention on the meaning of this time of waiting and anticipation – the Advent of God’s love here on earth. The Advent that came long ago with Jesus’ birth, and the Advent that is to come as we anticipate Christ’s return.

In describing this second Advent, 2 Peter also gives hint to this nature of God. The verses we read today, often misinterpreted and used as fear-tactic texts for the second coming, are rich with an understanding of God’s nature to forgive and love. The people of God are impatient, wondering when Christ will return as promised. Like those in exile, they are questioning if God has abandoned them. To them, the writer of 2 Peter reminds them of their center, just as Isaiah did. He writes that God is “not slow about his promise,” but rather, is patiently waiting so that all come to repent before the day of the Lord. The implication here is that God wants to respond to the world in ways that are loving and gracious, but the world isn’t there yet. While we may argue some with the implications, the writer here seeks to present God in ways that are consistent with the descriptions in Isaiah and others in Scripture, as a God whose steadfast love endures forever. And here, 2 Peter intimates, God has forever to wait.

It’s important, I think, to know the posture with which God waits. Poet Steve Collins describes it this way:

God waits for us,
not like a lion ready to pound
if we let our guard down,
not like an interfering in-law
but like an old friend who’s seen it all before
and likes us anyway,
with whom we can spend time
without having to pretend or explain[iv].

This is Advent waiting; more than the love of a spouse holding a loved one’s purse outside of a dressing room; more than a parent waiting what feels like forever for a toddler to put on his shoes and coat all by himself. This is a waiting marked by LOVE.

“The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” God’s presence and God’s love can and will endure anything. That is the heart of the gospel. Words that bring firm ground on which we can stand, and yes, find comfort.

“Comfort, Comfort”; these are also words of calling. They are in the imperative form in the Hebrew text, meaning they are commands and instructions. As Richard Ward writes:

These words are not just for us to savor like food at a holiday feast. We are in the situation of the celestial ones and the prophets in the text, trying to find a way to speak them to others that God loves[v].

Isaiah’s words are meant to be proclaimed from the high mountaintops. The prophet is given a new message, declaring the glory of the Lord! “Here is your God!” This is the message we are called to shout with our voices and proclaim with our actions.

Advent is a perfect time to live into this calling. It happens when neighbors lend a hand shoveling snow, or offer warmth and comfort to those without power. It happens when we send messages of love through Christmas cards or phone calls. It happens when we let someone in to traffic or greet stork clerks with a patient smile and appreciation for their work. It happens when we show compassion to our neighbors. Through Santa’s Caravan, we provide gifts of toys and clothing and food for 175 children, most of whom live in a 5 mile radius from our church. The work has been happening for months, and now is at full force. Yesterday many volunteers prepared the gym; this morning cheerful souls packed food boxes and our children stuffed stockings, and the work will continue into next weekend. This mission of our congregation provides a witness of comfort and a demonstration of God’s love. In all of these and more, we proclaim the good news of God, a God of HOPE and LOVE, in eager anticipation of Christ’s coming.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
December 10, 2017

[i] Paul D. Hanson, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Isaiah 40-66, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1995).
[ii] Kathleen M. O’Connor, “Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 40:1-11,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iii] Paul D. Hanson
[iv] Steve Collins, “God Waits.” Alternative Worship: Resources from and for the Emerging Church, compiled by Jonny Baker & Doug Gay with Jenny Brown (Grand Rapids, MI:Baker Books, 2003) 36.
[v] Richard F. Ward, “Homiletical Perspective: Isaiah 40:1-11,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon – How Long? Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Isaiah 64:1-9

December 3, 2017 Leave a Comment

I don’t mean to alarm you, but it is now December and Christmas is in 22 days. Chances are, this fact hasn’t escaped you too much. There are numerous ways to count down the days, from functional décor to chocolate filled calendars to large placards at the entrance of a store. As an adult, time seems to accelerate during this month, which is extra full of activities and things to do. But as a child, I remember feeling like Christmas was never going to get here. It couldn’t come soon enough, and I, like many children, would repeatedly ask “how much longer?” We have entered into a unique time of waiting in the next few weeks.

In the church year, this is the season of Advent, a time marked by wonder, and expectation. It begins on the third Sunday before Christmas, and is a time set apart for anticipation of the coming of Christ, both the celebration and commemoration of his first coming with his birth and the anticipation and longing for his second coming which has not yet happened. These two Advents are both marked by the common factors of waiting and anticipation. It is a season in which we ask “how long,” as a sign of our deep yearning for God’s to be with us. And each time we ask this question, we voice our faith, and join God’s people throughout the ages who have longed for God’s presence.

This is the setting for both of our texts today, which begin on a more sober note than the twinkling lights, tinsel, and Christmas parades. Psalm 80 and Isaiah 64 voice serious lament and anxiety about the state of the world. With this,

Advent begins not on a note of joy, but of despair. Humankind has reached the end of its rope. All our schemes for self-improvement, for extricating ourselves from the traps we have set for ourselves, have come to nothing. We have not realized at the deepest level of our being that we cannot save ourselves and that, apart from the intervention of God, we are totally and irretrievably lost. . . . The season thus attempts to capture that spirit of hope in the midst of hopelessness, a spirit of yearning for that which would be too good to be true: some new and unique expression of God’s intention to save a world gone wrong[i].

The traditional theme for this first Sunday of Advent is hope, specifically recalling the hope of the prophets. For Isaiah, we hear it in chapter 64, which comes almost at the end of the book after the Israelites have returned from exile. All should have been restored, but the reality doesn’t reflect that. There is still intense oppression and struggle; a life fraught with challenge. The verses we read today are a prayer for salvation that express two components of true Advent hope:

on the one hand, a deep sense of desperation about a situation out of control is sounded. On the other hand, a bold and confident trust in God is voiced, addressed to a God who can intervene (if God will) to make life peaceable and joyous. Life without God is unbearable. That is the present tense. Life with God can be completely transformed. That is the urgent hope of the prayer[ii].

As our call to worship said this morning, this is not a naïve hope or wishful thinking, but one born out of deep conviction and trust. It is, as Vaclav Havel called it, an “orientation of the spirit,” distinct from optimism, in that “it is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of those it turns out[iii].” Advent is about this kind of hope, a conviction held even in the face of adversity, made possible by faith in God.

In a similar way, Psalm 80 voices hope as well. Its setting is similar to Isaiah, with subscript notes that it is a Psalm of Asaph, which puts it among twelve other psalms (50, 73-83) that are a collection “likely of northern origin, reflect[ing] a strong interest in divine justice, Israel’s history from exodus to exile, and Zion[iv].”

The Psalm expresses a deep desire to figure God out as the people wait to see signs of God’s presence. The Psalm gives voice to the grief of the people over the impression that God has disappeared. Rather than remain paralyzed and silent, the Psalm gives the voice to move the people from despair to hope. This movement is found in the question “how long?” that breaks the silence and creates a space for truth telling and discovery among the people. The Psalm demonstrates a deep faith, marked by a questioning of God’s purposes that coexists with the affirmation that God is the one who offers salvation and deliverance. As Talitha Arnold notes:

Psalm 80 is an incredible confession, not of sin, but of faith. It confesses the people’s trust in a God who is big enough to hear their hurt, strong enough to handle their anger and pain. It also identifies the congregation as a people who, even in their suffering, have the courage to call on the Lord God of hosts to help them[v].

Both of these texts remind us that Advent is more than just a counting down the days until we get to sing silent night and remember a sweet baby in the manger. Advent is about a deep longing for God’s presence in the world, one that extends to our lives today. Advent ushers us into a season of communal prayer and petition along with the prophet Isaiah and the Asaphites and God’s people throughout the years who have hoped and called out for God to come into our lives yet again. We do this by offering our earnest cries of “How Long?”

How long will it be before things feel “normal” again after we have lost a loved one? How long before we will have a child after several miscarriages? How long will I be out of work? How long until I am able to do the things I love after a surgery or series of treatments? How long until a memory is no longer painful? How long until I am taken seriously or respected? How long will my prayers go unanswered?

And, as many “how longs” as we have in our own lives, there are just as many if not more in our own faith community and in the world. How long until we are on solid financial footing and are no longer laden with debt? How long until our pews are again overflowing each week? How long until the need is gone for something as basic as food? How long until our elected leaders can work together without letting political bias and lobbyist agendas set the tone? How long until young girls are not coerced into sex trafficking? How long until “mass shooting” is absent from our news cycle? How long until all women and men are safe from harassment and misconduct in the workplace? How long until troops come home to their families because there is no longer a risk of war and conflict has ceased?

How long? How long? We cry out to God, over and over again, how long? And then, as the Psalmist does three times, we ask for God to deliver us from the state that we are in. “Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.” It is a call for a blessing, a longing to receive something only God can offer. It echoes the Aaronic priestly blessing from Numbers 6:22-27, “may the face of God shine upon you” in ways that are only possible for those who are in the presence of God. And the grammar of this request for blessing is both “wish and declaration,” something we hope to happen and something we already know to be true[vi]. This is the posture of living in between the two Advents of God’s coming.

We know God’s presence coming to us is within God’s ability and the way God has engaged with the world, made manifest in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. And, at the same time, it is a hopeful orientation to the world of what is still possible, of trusting that God can, at any moment, break into our difficult and heavy experiences of longing with a fresh vision and presence.

Advent is about being bold enough to ask God to do just that. It is an expression of hope, based on a deep seated belief that what God has done before, God can and will do again. It’s about adopting a posture of expectation and anticipation of God bursting on the scene. It is about watching and waiting, yes, but also actively engaging in dialogue with God marked by our hope in what God can do. It is about making the active choice to hope, even when that looks like cries of “how long”? May this be our approach to the next 22 days. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
December 3, 2017

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[i] “First Sunday of Advent,” Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, James D. Newsome, Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year B, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993).
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Vaclav Havel, as quoted by David LaMotte in Worldchanging 101: Challenging the Myth of Powerlessness, (Montreat, NC: Dryad Publishing, 2014), 28.
[iv] William P. Brown, “Book of Psalms,” in The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. ed. K . D. Sakenfeld (Nashville, Abingdon, 2009), 4:673, as quoted by James K. Mead, “Commentary on Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19,” Working Preacher, December 3, 2017, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3484, accessed 11/30/2017.
[v] Talitha Arnold, “Pastoral Perspective: Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[vi][vi] Rolf Jacobson, Karoline Lewis, and Matt Skinner,“Sermon Brainwave, #572 – First Sunday of Advent” Podcast by Working Preacher, Posted November 25, 2017, http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=950, accessed 11/30/17.

Sunday’s Sermon – Well-Fed – Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Matthew 25:31-46

November 26, 2017 Leave a Comment

Today is Christ the King Sunday, one of those lesser known “high and holy” theological days that actually is the last one in the liturgical year. As you might expect from the name, this Sunday celebrates the rule of Christ as Lord over all creation, the King of Kings. And in this, we have the opportunity to pause and consider what it means exactly to call Jesus our Lord, and what king of King he really is. But frankly, royalty isn’t really a concept we deal with too often nowadays. The most news I seem to hear about royalty revolves around the hairstyle and clothing choices of Kate Middleton, or glimpses of royalty with King Friday and Prince Tuesday in the land of make believe in Daniel Tiger. None of these seem to be particularly helpful to me in understanding Jesus. In fact, that make it quite comical.

Fortunately, the Bible is full of illustrations of kingship, including our texts today, which call attention to Jesus and God as a shepherd. Interestingly, this was quite the common way to refer to kings and rulers in secular settings as well dating back centuries. Leaders were expected to show kindness, protect the vulnerable, pursue justice, and guide people through every difficulty, as shepherds care for a flock. That was the mark of an excellent king. So, to say Jesus or God is a shepherd is to affirm that the very nature of God is to care for all of us sheep, and at the same time, to proclaim the reign of God and Christ over all.

Although Psalm23 might be the first to come to mind with this concept, Ezekiel 34 offers a rich commentary on what it means for God to be a shepherd, reminding us of the very nature of God, the one who came to us in the person of Jesus Christ, has always been interested in the care of the flock. This morning’s text from the prophet speaks words of hope in the midst of many passages that serve as sobering oracles of doom for God’s people[i]. Ezekiel is a book full of visions recorded by the prophet, dated in the opening verses as “in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth day of the month,” which most scholars date at the start of the sixth century BCE in the time leading up to the fall of Jerusalem in 586, making this a book written to God’s people during the exile and Babylonian captivity, with some even noting it may have come from oral speeches[ii]. The language is complex and themes sophisticated, suggesting the author to be among the intellectual elite of his day, speaking and writing to other leaders from the southern kingdom of Judah who would have been equipped to understand the intricacies of the historical-political situation of the day.

Chapters 34-48, however, contain oracles of restoration, in which Ezekiel insists that Israel’s exile will not be permanent, for that would be a contradiction with God’s reputation among the nations, instead:

God will regather the people from the nations, return them to their homeland, and ensure that the sins of the past are never repeated . . . [and] will enter into a new covenant with the people[iii].

This is the work of the shepherd outlined in chapter 34, with promises for the sheep of Israel and also for us today about the one we proclaim is king.

Shepherds give up all semblance of a normal life to care for animals that may not even be their own. . .This shepherd image is about love and compassion for another living thing – to the point of self-sacrifice. . . . Being a shepherd means getting dirty, sleeping with the sheep, carrying them to safety, binding their wounds, and caring for their nutritional needs. (vv. 11-16)[iv].

The promise here and throughout our Scriptures is that we will be “well-fed”. How many of you experienced that this week as you celebrated Thanksgiving? According to the small sampling from the poll posted on our church’s Facebook page earlier this week, almost half of your enjoy stuffing or dressing the most, followed by turkey, with a three way tie between cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole and pumpkin pie for third. For many of us, the image of Thanksgiving is an abundant feast, with countless dishes spread on a large table surrounded by family and friends, that usually ends with some sort of “food coma” as we are all well satiated by the meal. Have you heard of “Thanksgiving pants?” (https://thanksgivingdinnerpants.com/) The Stove Top stuffing brand marketed them this season for $20. They SOLD OUT, confirming that for many this holiday seems to bring with it the notion of overconsumption and extravagance. They are basically yoga or legging type pants with pockets, with a top panel almost like maternity clothing (a familiar joke to those familiar with Joey’s “Thanksgiving pants” from an old episode of the tv show “Friends”), so that as you eat, there’s room for your stomach to literally expand without the restrictiveness of an ordinary waistband[v]. One might wonder what the line is between being “well-fed” and “stuffed” is. I think it might be somewhere around when you order special leggings.

The promise in Ezekiel is that all the sheep will be well-fed by God, but with that comes some commentary about those who have become the “fat sheep.” The second section of verses for today speaks of God’s judgment of those who have gotten too fat and happy at the expense of others, pushing and scattering the other sheep for personal gain. In biblical times, these “fat sheep” are equated with those who have failed to be good shepherds. Scholars debate if they might have reference the royal leaders of Israel and Judah, or even foreign rulers who have dominated or plundered from the Israelites. But even with the exact identities unknown, we might guess exactly what the prophet means. A modern day equivalent might be the image of people pushing and shoving their way into stores on Black Friday, literally trampling one another in order to get a low priced tv. Clearly, something is amiss.

As MaryAnn McKibben Dana notes:

Today’s passage is God’s way of saying, “Step aside, shepherds, and let me show you how it’s done.” . . . Ezekiel is vivid here, but not vitriolic; his words are saturated with detail, but not outright disgust. We find no litany of curses, no ranting, not exclamatory hyperbole. God seems resolute but weary – and almost grieved at once again having to set people straight on the path of justice. . . . Like a parent intent on teaching her child, who remembers that calm consistency is the key, God does not fly off the handle. God just quietly but firmly corrects. Again. And again[vi].

God does this because God is a shepherd, and that is what shepherds do in caring for their flocks. You know how I said I didn’t know much about kings? I may know less about shepherding. But this week I learned a bit more as I searched for this week’s bulletin cover image.

The photo captured me right away as I looked for an image of a shepherd, and I found that it was posted on the website for a historic sheep farming property known as Tarndie in south-west Victoria in Australia. I e-mailed the owners, and got this reply from Tom Dennis:

Dear Elizabeth, I’m more than happy for you to use the image of my father Dave. He does know a thing or two about looking after sheep, and they in turn, look after him.[vii]

What a wonderful perspective on what it means to shepherd. I wondered, if this might not be a great way to look at how this description of God as shepherd is meant to connect to our lives today. God knows a thing or two about looking after sheep, and outlines it clearly multiple times in our Scriptures. And, in turn, might we as faithful sheep, be called to look after him?

Jesus’ parable in Matthew’s gospel seems to answer this question. In these familiar words, we also discover the image of the Son of Man, Jesus, God Incarnate, as a shepherd. Like God intervenes with the fat and lean sheep in Ezekiel, Jesus intervenes with the sheep and goats of the gospel, ushering in a meal of justice that humbles the powerful and empowers the humble. And, as Jesus has continued the work of God and demonstrated the same nature of God as shepherd described in Ezekiel 34, here he indicates that his followers are to carry on that same mission: feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, visit the sick and incarcerated. That is the essence of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, a sheep in God’s pasture.

It starts by recognizing our shepherd. A study released earlier this month revealed that sheep, and other animals, are actually able to both recognize and remember each other’s faces and the face of the shepherd, using similar neural networks as humans. The author of the study, Keith Kendrick, is a neuroscientist at the Babraham Institue in Cambridge, England, and worked studying sheep to find that they could easily be trained to associate the particular faces of others in relation to receiving food. And, more than that, he found that the sheep could retain that memory for up to 600-800 days[viii].

“When did we see you? When did we not see you?” are the questions asked by the sheeps and goats in Matthew, both to the same reply, “As you did (or did not) do it to the least of these . . . you did (or did not) do it to me).” The heart of this parable is being able to see the face of the shepherd in the face of those in need. And it’s something even sheep can do.

Seeing the face of the shepherd and recognizing other sheep is what enables us to act in Jesus’ name. As Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon write:

We can only act within a world we can see.

Vision is the necessary prerequisite for ethics[ix].

Jesus’ parable in Matthew helps to give us that vision for what the kingdom of God can be, one in which he is present on the throne of glory, the eternal shepherd. Ezekiel’s description of God as the shepherd does the same thing, speaking to those who may have felt like “the least of these” themselves in the midst of exile. To those who have much and those who have lost it all, the message is that God offers care and compassion, justice and relief, working tirelessly until all the sheep are safely in pasture. The Lord indeed is our shepherd, we shall not want. May we receive that care, and also extend it to others, so that all of God’s children are well-fed. That is what the kingdom of God is meant to look like. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
November 26, 2017

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[i] For other passages of hope, see Ezekiel 36:1-15; 37:1-14; for examples of the oracles of doom, see Ezek. 5:1-17, 8:1-11:13, among other texts. As outlined in: Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Proper 28,” Texts for Preaching- Year A, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).
[ii] Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “The Book of Ezekiel,” The New Interpreter’s Bible: Volume VI: Introduction to Prophetic Literature, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Baruch, Letter of Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994).
[iii] Katheryn Pfisterer Darr
[iv] Karyn L. Wiseman, “Homiletical Perspective: Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[v] Go to https://thanksgivingdinnerpants.com/ for pictures and a video commercial.
[vi] MaryAnnMcKibben Dana, “Pastoral Perspective: Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[vii] E-mail correspondence between Tom Dennis and Rev. Elizabeth Milford, November 20, 2017.
[viii] Amanda Onion, “Study: Sheep Recognize Other Sheep, Even People,” ABC News,
http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/story?id=98209&page=1, accessed 11/22/17.
[ix] Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon in Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Volume 3, (Cleveland, Ohio: United Church Press, 1996).

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