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Signs of the Times  •  9 December 2016  •  No. 99

Processional. “If your world has only done you wrong / And all you find yourself is all alone / And if there's no one there to see you through / I'll be there for you.” —The Mavericks, “Come Unto Me”

 Above: "Frog Tree," photo by Harfian Herdi.

Introduction

The renewing significance of Mary’s Magnificat

        At first glance, through modernity’s eyes, Mary’s encounter with the angel’s natal announcement—and her annunciating response—appears to be a form of self-subjugation.

        Is Luke’s story a case of a colonized mind? Did she actively concede to her own binding and bonding? Should we insist on a more assertive, individuated figure to front the Christmas story?

        I, for one, think not.

        Does the manger’s straw have a ghost of a chance against sharpened steel? Can there be any lingering question about the dominance of shock and awe’s rule?

        I, for one, think so. . . .

        Indeed, our deepest social need involves restoring a spiritual vision powerful enough to dispel the deception that we are on our own, that might makes right, that independence (freedom) involves no interdependence. . . .

        To highlight Mary’s subversive song of faith in Luke 1, the major theme of this issue of Signs of the Times records many small acts of resistance and rebuilding in public life. . . . And to support Luke’s tale we’ve enlisted another text (outside Advent’s lectionary guidance), from Matthew 11:28, where Jesus urged, “Come unto me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest”—rest being anything but passivity. . . .

        There is an amazing array of songs that utilize the “Come Unto Me” refrain. . . . All of this issue’s musical recommendations come from that collection.

        In no way was Mary “meek and mild,” as Christmas hymnody would have us believe. What we urgently need to remember is that all the characteristics Gospel writers assigned to Jesus—savior, prince of peace, incarnate god, ruler of the world—were titles ascribed to Roman Emperor Caesar Augustus.

        The struggle over legitimate claim to that throne continues still. —read all of Ken Sehested’s “The renewing significance of Mary’s Magnificant”

Invocation. Listen to a reading (2:11) of Evelyn Underhill’s poem, “Immanence.”

Creative acts of resistance in everyday clothes. Singer/songwriter David LaMotte’s children’s book, White Flour, isn’t about tinseled holiday trees, but it is about the power unleashed in the Nativity. (5:42 video. You can also buy the book.)

¶ “Meet the Texas man who went viral after standing outside a mosque with a sign reading ‘You Belong.’" (0:38 video. Thanks Bill.)

First urban “agrihood.” “This week, the Michigan Urban Farming Initiative (see photo at left by Michelle & Chris Gerard ) revealed its plans for the first Sustainable Urban Agrihood in the North End [of Detroit]. Wait, an agrihood? It’s an alternative neighborhood growth model, positioning agriculture as the centerpiece of a mixed-use development. There are some agrihoods around the country, but in rural areas. This is the first within a city.” —Robin Runyan, Curbed Detroit

Call to worship. “Fretfully does my heart drag its heels into the sanctuary of delight. For my wanton days and weary praise reveal the toll taken by life’s relentless demands. / To where shall I appeal for release from such encumbrance? To whom shall I entreat to lay these burdens down? —continued reading Ken Sehested’s “Come Unto Me,” a litany for worship inspired by Matthew 11:28-30

 ¶ “All geography is local, and the salvation of that grand generality, “the environment,” often comes down to a fight on the part of local citizens to defend a particular river, forest, or at-risk species. . . .
        “As important as resistance efforts will be, pouring all our energy into opposition may be poor strategy. Just as important will be building local alternatives—cooperative institutions and enterprises, including community land trusts, city-owned public banks, credit unions, and publicly owned utilities investing in renewables. . . .”
        “Localism is a long, slow, patient path that requires trust, patience, and hard work. Such mundane work may sound boring in a time of political crisis and turmoil. But it may soon get a lot more interesting.” —Richard Heinberg, “Localism in the Age of Trump," commondreams

For an extended personal mediation or group discussion. “Walking with Oak Creek” is a very moving 33-minute documentary about the attack against a Sikh place of worship in Wisconsin and the community’s response. Available on-line or order a free DVD. (Thanks Dan.)

Hymn of praise. “Come Unto Me,” Little Lucy Smith Singers (gospel).

Between the 8 November election through 29 November, the Southern Poverty Law Center tallied 867 cases of hateful harassment and intimidation in the US. —Holly Yan, Kristina & Kylie Walker, CNN

Hate crimes in New York City more than doubled (compared to the same period last year) since Donald J. Trump won the presidential election. —Sarah Maslin Nir, New York Times

Hymn of consolation. “Come Unto Me,” The Chuck Wagon Gang (country).

¶ “On Monday, Native Americans conducted a forgiveness ceremony with U.S. veterans at the Standing Rock casino, giving the veterans an opportunity to atone for military actions conducted against Natives throughout history.” —Jenna Amatuill, Huffington Post

Left: Native American elders led a ritual of forgiveness for US military veterans. Photo by Josh Morgan for Huffington Post.

Confession. “O God, I am frightened. Anxious are my waking hours and fretful is my sleep. Even as I pray I sense that desert sands in remote places are readied, eager, to bleach the bones of mothers’ sons, fathers’ daughters, children of us all. The corrupt, lustful glory of vain rulers now erupts across parched land. Hear our prayer, O Lord.” —continue reading Ken Sehested’s “Spirits collide: A conversation with Isaiah 35”

Hymn of confirmation. “Come Unto Me,” The Bishops (bluegrass).

“Twenty kids marched around a multipurpose room at Duke Memorial United Methodist Church on a recent Thursday, following the path of a cardboard highway that a day earlier they discovered had divided the city’s neighborhoods and altered their vision for the community.

Right: Children sing at the community organizing camp in Durham, N.C. Photo via Franklin Golden/RNS.]

        “‘Ain’t gonna let the freeway turn me around,’ they sang, hearkening back to the civil rights activism of the 1960s.
        “Instead of the traditional Vacation Bible School, this downtown church partnered with seven other congregations—black, white, Baptist, Jewish, Episcopal, Pentecostal, and nondenominational—to put on a community-organizing camp for kids aged 4 to 12.” —Jesse James DeCanto, “Forget VBS. These Summer Camps Teach Kids to Be Community Activists,” sojo.net

Words of assurance. “Come unto me, all ye that labor / And are heavy laden, I will give you rest / Take my yoke upon you and learn from me / For I am meek and lowly in heart.” —Elvis Presley, “Come Unto Me” (rockabilly)

¶ “Muslim, Christian, Jewish and Buddhist faith leaders gathered at Masjid Muhammad, the oldest mosque in our nation’s capital, to express solidarity with the Muslim community through a press conference and by joining in Friday prayers at the mosque.” —Drew Gibson, Shoulder to Shoulder

Signs like the one at left have appeared in numerous neighborhoods across the US.

Professing our faith. From Rob Brezsny book, Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia. “‘Pronoia’ is fueled by a drive to cultivate happiness and a determination to practice an aggressive form of gratitude that systematically identifies the things that are working well. But it is not a soothing diversion meant for timid Pollyannas strung out on optimistic delusions. . . . On the contrary, we build our optimism not through a repression of difficulty, but rather a vigorous engagement with it. We understand that the best way to attract blessings is to grapple with the knottiest enigmas." (Thanks Abigail.)

Hymn of intercession. “Are you looking for someone to be gentle / With your broken heart your shattered dreams / And are you searching for someone who'll be faithful / To you no matter what life brings.” —Nicole C. Mullen, “Come Unto Me”

When only the blues will do. “Come Unto Me,” Dawkins and Dawkins (rhythm & blues).

By far my favorite Presidential Medal of Freedom award was to Ellen DeGeneres. (2:17 video)

Preach it. “It’s time to put Herod back in Christmas. Not because we need any more Herods, but because it reveals that the sweet manger was placed in the midst of grave danger.” —continue reading Nancy Hastings Sehested’s sermon, “All’s wild with the world”

¶ “It is hard to know specifically how to position yourself in a country that can elect a man with such staggering ineptitude and open animus. It makes you doubt whatever faith you had in the country itself. . . . When I think of all these people [who will suffer under a Trump presidency] and then think of all the people who voted to make this man president—and those who didn’t vote, thereby easing the way for his ascension—I cannot help but feel some measure of anger. I must deal with that anger. I don’t want to wrestle it to the ground; I want to harness it.” —Charles M. Blow, “America Elects a Bigot,” The New York Times

Hymn of decision. “Come Unto Me,” West Coast Mennonite Chamber Choir.

¶ “Before we go into hard core resistance mode, we should listen carefully to the fear and sense of loss that was strong enough to overlook the obvious lack of decency. While it is hard to overlook the hot froth whipped up around race and gender we just don’t know how much was also about the loss of moral credibility of the privileged. We just elected one of the most weirdly privileged insiders of them all, but I know that’s most of his supporters were certainly not. We won’t get anywhere if we don’t listen.” —Gary Gunderson, “apart”

Call to the table. “It is impossible, in the long run, to cleave the desire to help people from the duty to respect them. The smug style, at bottom, is a failure of empathy. Further: It is a failure to believe that empathy has any value at all. It is the notion that anybody worthy of liberal time and attention and respect must capitulate, immediately, to the Good Facts.
        “This is not a call for civility. Manners are not enough. The smug style did not arise by accident, and it cannot be abolished with a little self-reproach. So long as liberals cannot find common cause with the larger section of the American working class, they will search for reasons to justify that failure. They will resent them. They will find, over and over, how easy it is to justify abandoning them further. They will choose the smug style.” —Emmett Rensin, “The smug style in American liberalism,” Vox

¶ “Speaking to MSNBC on Saturday morning, Dallas Mayor Mike Rawlings was asked to discuss the growing anxiety over Syrian refugees entering the United States, purportedly due to concerns they could be potential agents for militant groups such as ISIS. . . . He responded, ‘I am more fearful of large gatherings of white men that come into schools, theaters and shoot people up, but we don’t isolate young white men on this issue.’” —Jack Jenkins, ThinkProgress

The state of our disunion. “It’s about the spirit of Christmas, you know, being out shopping with your family and all.  —man interviewed on “Black Friday,” the day after Thanksgiving

Can’t makes this sh*t up. This “Hipster Nativity Set” (pictured at right) can be yours for only $129.99. See more photos at Tara McGinley, “Sweet Jesus.” (Thanks Susan.)

Best one-liner. “I don’t think God really cares about who wins football games.” —last year’s Super Bowl-winning Denver Broncos quarterback (and future hall-of-famer) Peyton Manning

For the beauty of the earth. Watch this National Geographic video (1:51) of the world’s second-largest tree, the “President” in Sequoia National Park, photographed during a snow storm. The 3,200-year-old giant sequoia rises to a height of 247 feet and carries an estimated two billion needles. 

Altar call. “Come Unto Me,” Take 6 (jazz).

Benediction. “The Christmas story is not about how blessed it is to be givers but about how essential it is to see ourselves as receivers. We prefer to think of ourselves as givers—powerful, competent, self-sufficient, capable people whose goodness motivates us to employ some of our power, competence and gifts to benefit the less fortunate. Which is a direct contradiction of the biblical account of the first Christmas. There we are portrayed not as the givers we wish we were but as the receivers we are.” —William Willimon

Recessional. “Come Unto Me,” Metropolitan Tabernacle, London (traditional hymn).

Lectionary for Sunday next. “Joseph: Obscured brother / consigned to the margins / of Incarnation narrative. / Carpentry-calloused hands / now shield the shame / of sagging face, drooping, disgraced. / Chiseled lines prematurely sculpting / age in youthful countenance. / Thoughts of Mary smudge the heart / as tears smear the face.” —continue reading Ken Sehested’s poem, “Joseph,” inspired by Matthew 1:18-25

Just for fun. Mr. Bean directs the Christmas orchestra (2:22 video).

More than just for fun—this is PRICELESS. “Christmas According to Kids, Southland Christian Church.” (3:15 video. Thanks Abigail.)

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Featured this week on prayer&politiks

• “All’s wild with the world,” a sermon on Mary’s “Magnificat” by Nancy Hastings Sehested

• “Spirits collide: A conversation with Isaiah 35”

• “Come Unto Me,” a litany for worship inspired by Matthew 11:28-30

• “Joseph,” a poem inspired by Matthew 1:18-25

Other featured

• “Advent & Christmas resources for worship,” litanies, poems, sermons and new lyrics to old hymns
• “Prince of Peace: The birth of Jesus and the purposes of God,” a collection of texts
• “New secrets, waiting to be found,” a post-election sermon.  Or view a video of the sermon.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Language not otherwise indicated above is that of the editor. Don’t let the “copyright” notice keep you from circulating material you find here (and elsewhere in this site). Reprint permission is hereby granted in advance for noncommercial purposes.

Your comments are always welcomed. If you have news, views, notes or quotes to add to the list above, please do. If you like what you read, pass this along to your friends. You can reach me directly at kensehested@prayerandpolitiks.org.

Come Unto Me

A litany for worship inspired by Matthew 11:28-30

by Ken Sehested

Fretfully does my heart drag its heels into the sanctuary of delight. For my wanton days and weary praise reveal the toll taken by life’s relentless demands.

Come unto me, and I shall give you rest.

To where shall I appeal for release from such encumbrance? To whom shall I entreat to lay these burdens down?

Come unto me, and I shall give you rest.

Attend the sighs of your world-weary children, oh Father of fealty, oh Mother of mercy.

Come unto me, and I shall give you rest.

Yoke us to provident release from sin’s increase, unburdening strain and stress. Grant rest and relief from heartache and grief; grant power to praise and to bless.

Come unto me, and I shall give you rest.

© ken sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org

Spirits collide

A conversation with Isaiah 35

by Ken Sehested

A meditation written in the fall of 1990 as half a million US troops mustered in Saudia Arabia
for an assault (The Gulf War) on Iraqi forces occupying Kuwait. It was the presence of
these troops in one of Islam’s most sacred terrains that provoked Osama bin Laden
to create al-Qaeda to launch his terror campaign.

O God, I am frightened. Anxious are my waking hours and fretful is my sleep. Even as I pray I sense that desert sands in remote places are readied, eager, to bleach the bones of mothers’ sons, fathers’ daughters, children of us all. The corrupt, lustful glory of vain rulers now erupts across parched land. Hear our prayer, O Lord.

        The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
        like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.
        The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
        They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God.

O Lord, if only my hands were powerful, enough to shape a new future. If only my legs could run, run and tell, tell of mercy, of kindness. My heart trembles within me, shaking my flesh, shaking the earth. Is no one to hear, to rescue, to avert this bloodletting? Have hearts so hardened, more brittle than crusts of bread?

        Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees.
        Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, fear not!
        Behold, your God will come with vengeance,
        with the recompense of God. The Lord will come and save you.”

God come! Come and see. Come and hear!! None see. None hear. Blindness rages like a wounded lion; deafness sears shut the mouths of ancients. No music swells, except that of rhythmic cannon. No water flows for parched bodies, souls. All laughter is of ravenous jackals. All life is grass.

        Then the eyes of the blind shall open, and the ears of the deaf, unstopped;
        then shall the lame leap like a hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing for joy.
        For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert;
        the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water;
        the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes.

Fools are confirmed: there is no God. None but the vengeful escape. Holy Ways and Holy Days are crushed to gravel. Ransom comes as human flesh, bargained for gold (or oil). Joy is mocked; gladness, a sneer. Sorrow, sadness is all I hear. Those who know say Zion is won only by the barrel of a gun. Is it really so? Tell me, if you can, if you will, if you know: What road is this?

        And a highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way;
        the unclean shall not pass over it, and fools shall not err therein.
        No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come upon it;
        they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there.
        And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with singing;
        everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness,
        and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Tell me, if you can, if you will, if you know: What road is this?

Hear our prayer, O Lord.
Hear our prayer, O Lord.
Incline thine ear to us,
and grant us thy peace.

Amen.

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Artwork above ©suntreeriver.
© ken sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org

All’s wild with the world

A sermon on Mary's "Magnificat"

by Nancy Hastings Sehested

The stories this time of year are so familiar that we might be lulled into the idea that they are tame and reasonable. There is nothing much tame in these stories, in spite of the fact that Luke begins his storytelling to most excellent Theophilus, “friend of God," by giving a really good reason for it all: "I decided after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you (Luke 1:3)."

Really, Luke? After investigating everything carefully, this is your orderly account? Aren’t you glad he told us?

Luke expected us to know quite a bit about the backdrop of the stories. His very first line after his introduction: In the days of King Herod of Judea.

Oh, most excellent Theophilus-es, all of you honorable friends of God—if we miss this opening, we miss the meaning. We might miss the divine mischief-making in the mayhem. It’s time to put Herod back in Christmas.  Not because we need any more Herods, but because it reveals that the sweet manger was placed in the midst of grave danger.

In the days of King Herod . . . in the days when innocents were being killed, children were being killed.

In those days of King Herod . . . a census was devised to document the undocumented for government control, as well as to ensure taxation of the most vulnerable ones.

In the days of King Herod . . . the lives of the people without power mattered little to those who ruled the land.

In the days of King Herod . . . hunger was common, shelter was scarce and people lived in fear for their lives and the lives of their children.  

So now we know for certain those days are our days. This story is our story.

The story unfolds not in the palaces of power but in tiny places, places hardly worth a mention. They were places where the “important” stuff usually didn’t happen, like in a sanctuary, in a hill country, in a house in Nazareth, in a town of Bethlehem, in a manger, in the fields. And into those small places walked people easily ignored and dismissed, like priests, peasants, animals, innkeepers, babies, and shepherds. Smallish things happened, things you might expect to hear around a campfire or a dinner table or a church retreat.

A priest lost his voice when his infertile wife turned up pregnant. The priest’s pregnant wife invited her shamed teenage pregnant cousin into her house for sanctuary. The priest’s wife gave birth to a baby who was named one of the most common names in the baby scrolls of those times, John.

Then the young pregnant girl found her voice and discovered she had a talent for song-writing and wrote a song for the ages. The young teen’s fiancé decided not to leave her but stayed with her through the whole labor and delivery as well as through the singing of a caroling group of shepherds. And a baby was born. A baby.

Fascinating story but not earth-shattering, except for those angels, the messengers who had the ability to pop up out of nowhere to give a message to nobodies and to frighten already frightened people.

The messengers stepped into the threshold places, between what is seen and unseen, between what can be calculated and what can be experienced. They offered an invitation to make a journey with the Spirit. They showed up during the worst of times, just when no one thought anything could be done, and their message was: God is busy, busy, busy. God is having the time of Her life, and you’re invited to be part of it.

Mary was troubled with the message. The angel Gabriel offered a slim shred of assurance. “Don’t be afraid.” Then the messenger made attempts to explain things, but his message showed some room for improvement.

He said, “God’s Spirit is popping up all over the place, and one of the designated sights is your body. God-life will be birthed through you. You’re going to have a baby! Yes, that’s right. Oh, don’t thank me. Thank the Holy Dreamer. She thought this one up. I’m just the messenger.”

The language of the angel was particular and scandalous. “This baby will be great. The son of the Most High. The son of God.”  It was language used for the emperor of the land—you know the one—Emperor Caesar Augustus.

God was scheming up a radical plan of counter-insurgency, a divine gift of power that was embedded in the tiny womb of a woman of seeming insignificance. Mary’s question of “How can this be?” was more a question of theology than biology. What was God up to? And with her?

We stand beside Mary as astonished as she is. God’s spirit can be birthed through us . . . unlikely us. God becomes tiny hands and feet and face. God becomes a needy, squalling baby.

The angel left God’s calling card. “Nothing is impossible with God.”

And with that, Mary courageously said yes to what she could not fully comprehend, any more than we can understand how our seemingly ordinariness can become extraordinary holy creations. Mary went with haste to the hill country to see her cousin Elizabeth.

Elizabeth could’ve said, “Oh, no! This is a total disaster!” She could’ve shunned her. She could’ve said, “You’ve brought shame on this family.” She could’ve rebuked her, humiliated her, dismissed her.

But Elizabeth’s body spoke up even before her words could utter a sound. Her body told the truth before her lips had a chance to voice it. Her own baby leapt in her womb. There was life stirring in her dark womb where she never imagined such an impossible possibility at her age. She welcomed Mary. She blessed Mary.

And in such an embrace another miracle came forth. A song burst out of Mary. A song of joy and praise, oh yes. But a song that placed this miracle smack in the middle of the King Herod world.  She said something like this:

I’m overflowing with thanks to God.
      I’m dancing to the song of God.
God chose me, of all people.
      I’m blessed beyond words.
God has done great things for me. Just look at me!
      God’s mercy is endless.
I hope my baby knows such mercy.
      I hope my baby knows a world full of God’s creating,
Where the high and mighty proud are put in their place—their place right alongside all of us.
      I hope my baby knows a world where tyrants and terrorists become harmless,
And those whose lives never mattered, all matter.
      I hope my baby knows a world where the hungry have a taste of plenty,
And the over-stuffed know the gnaw of hunger.
      I hope my baby knows a world where mercies pile higher than cruelties,
And where the promise of peace cascades through every generation.

The hopes and fears of all the years burst forth in this song. Mary discovered that she mattered to God. Us too? Just when we think that our tiny life could not possibly matter in the ways that might matter against the horrors of Herod times, the Mischief-Maker shows up with divine design to give us a part to play.

Our faith is not a message until it’s an experience. It is first birthed in us through body and soul. Mary’s yes was a journey of love incarnated in the mess and miracle of a Herod world.

[Note: I picked up and held a small globe in one hand and a baby in the other hand for the final words of the sermon.]

Our hope is still for a world without the horrors of Herod. Such a hope requires all the love that is within us. God’s still in the birthing room and all’s wild with the world.

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Circle of Mercy Congregation
©prayerandpolitiks.org

Gratitude

A litany for worship

by Ken Sehested

It is good and proper to give thanks to God.

And to petition these gifts of the Spirit:

Generosity, the secret of wealth.

Reverence, the secret of risk.

Trust, the secret of fearlessness.

Pardon, the secret of power.

Obedience, the secret of freedom.

Laughter, the secret of longevity.

Rest, the secret of resolve.

Humility, the secret of wisdom.

Comfort, the secret of boldness.

Lament, the secret of hope.

Transfigure our lives, O Christ.

Beckon us to that day when

All shall linger ‘neath their own vine and fig tree,

And none shall be afraid.

Safe, secure from all alarms.

Leaning on the everlasting arms.

©ken sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org

Prince of Peace: The birth of Jesus and the purposes of God

A collection of texts

by Ken Sehested

No single word, in any language, can capture the meaning of the incarnation—of the birth of Jesus and the larger redemptive purposes of God. But of all the words used in Scripture to indicate the purposes of God and the mission of Jesus, “peace” is surely among the most prominent. What follows is a collection of relevant texts.

§ “For every boot of the trampling warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire. For unto us a child is born . . . and his name will be called ‘Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.’ Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end.” Isaiah 9:5-7

§ “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good tidings, who publishes peace . . . who publishes salvation." Isaiah 52:7; Romans 10:15

§ In a song of thanksgiving at John’s birth, Zechariah—father of “the Baptizer”—prophesied that his son would “go before the Lord to prepare his ways” and would “guide our feet into the way of peace.” Luke 1:76, 79

§ Angels announcing Jesus’ birth to shepherds burst into song: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among all with whom God is pleased.” Luke 2:14

§ Mary, announcing her participation in God’s purposes, illustrated the character of God’s peace: scattering of the proud, pulling down the mighty from their thrones, exalting those of low degree, sending the rich away empty-handed, filling the hungry with good things. Luke 1:46-55

§ During the infant Jesus’ ritual presentation at the temple, Simeon, who was “righteous and devout” before God, confirmed God’s purpose in this birth: “Lord, now let thy servant depart in peace . . . for my eyes have seen thy salvation.” Luke 2:29-30

§ At his baptism, a dove—since Noah, the symbol of peace—descended on Jesus, accompanied by a voice from heaven declaring him “beloved.” Luke 3:22

§ The Gospels record numerous stories of Jesus’ encounters with women. In his encounter with the woman suffering “a flow of blood for twelve years,” Jesus blessed her, saying, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” Mark 5:34

§ And to the “woman of the city, a sinner,” who anointed him with oil, Jesus said, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” Luke 7:50

§ Instructing his disciples, Jesus said: “Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace be to this house. . . . Whenever you enter a town and they receive you, eat what is set before you; heal the sick in it and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’” Luke 10:5, 8-9

•§ In his most famous collection of teachings, Jesus declared: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” Matthew 5:9

§ In weeping over the fate of Jerusalem, Jesus mourned: “Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace!” Luke 19:42

§ In his teaching of the disciples during the “last supper,” Jesus said: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. . . . I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” John 14:27; 16:33

§ In one of his resurrection appearances, Jesus greeted his followers with the promise of peace and the commission of forgiveness: “‘Peace be with you. As the Abba has sent me, even so send I you.’ And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven.” John 20:21-23

§ Peter preached the “good news of peace by Jesus Christ.” Acts 10:36

§ Almost all the New Testament Epistles are introduced with: “Grace to you and peace. . . .” • The “feet” of the unrighteous “are swift to shed blood . . . and the way of peace they do not know.” Romans 3:15, 17 • “For the kingdom of God is . . . righteousness and peace and joy.” Romans 14:17 • “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace.” Romans 15:13 • “The God of peace be with you.” Romans 15:33; Philippians 4:9 • “For God is not a God of confusion but of peace.” 1 Corinthians 14:33 • “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” Galatians 5:22-23 • “For [Christ] is our peace . . . and has broken down the dividing wall of hostility.” Ephesians 2:14 • “Put on the whole armor of God . . . having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace.” Ephesians 6: 11, 15 • “As the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. . . . And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts.” Colossians 3:13, 15 • “May the God of peace sanctify you wholly.” 1 Thessalonians 5:23 • “Strive for peace with all, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord.” Hebrews 12:14 • “And the harvest of justice is sown in peace by those who make peace.” James 3:18 • “. . . seek peace, and pursue it.” 1 Peter 3:11

©ken sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org

Who are you?

A litany for worship inspired by Isaiah 11:1-10

by Ken Sehested

 

When we are asked—Who are you?—what shall we say?

We are followers of Jesus who believe that doing justice and loving mercy are intimately tied to walking humbly with God.

And if asked—What is you mission?—how do we respond?

Our mission is to nurture spiritual formation in ways that support prophetic and redemptive work in the world.

And what do these things look like?

In the Prophet Isaiah’s vision, one day wolf and lamb, leopard and calf, cow and bear, child and viper, shall rest fearlessly in each other’s presence.

And this is why we long to know God, because acquaintance with the Beloved brings health and healing to the earth.

“They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

©ken sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org
Using language from the Circle of Mercy Congregation’s vision and mission statement, along with language from Isaiah 11.

New secrets, waiting to be found

A post-election sermon, based on Isaiah 65:17-25

by Ken Sehested

 

Circle of Mercy Congregation, 13 November 2016
Principal text: Isaiah 65:17-25 • Other lections: Psalm 118; Luke 21:5-19

        “The parents have eaten sour grapes,” writes the Prophet Ezekiel (18:2), “and the children’s teeth are set on edge.” There are a lot of teeth on edge these days: a lot of bared teeth, grinding teeth, teeth with fangs. Last Tuesday night, as the electoral results began to shock the nation, commentator Van Jones spoke very emotionally: “You have people putting children to bed tonight and they are afraid of breakfast. They’re afraid of ‘How do I explain this to my children?’”

        I went to bed Tuesday night long before the final results but after the news anchors’ faces began to blanch as the number began piling up, telling a different story from their teleprompters’ received wisdom. The next morning I wasn’t surprised at the outcome, but it did feel like a punch in the gut.

        As I sipped coffee, my mind was racing, almost in a panic. I began a mental check list of all the potential ramifications of a Trump administration: healthcare; the nuclear deal with Iran; massive tax cuts for the wealthy; white backlash of all kinds against people of color, of Muslims, of the queer community; the status of immigrants; the gutting of environmental regulations; privatization of Medicare and Social Security; Supreme Court nominees; the undoing of modest banking reform regulations . . . . On and on until I felt a bit dizzy.

        Then Nancy came into the kitchen where I was sipping coffee. “I’m SSOOOO glad I don’t have to preach this Sunday,” a little too gleefully.

        “There is that comfort,” I said sarcastically. Months ago, when I said yes to this assignment, none of us knew what an uphill climb it would be to speak to this week’s news.

        I believe—and this is certainly not an infallible judgment—I believe that as a nation we are in trouble, maybe catastrophic trouble, and we need to figure out what to do.

        There is plenty of trouble in this week’s lectionary readings. We read my take on Psalm 118 as the call to worship. Though my rendition did not stick to wording of that Psalm, it did stay with the text’s whiplash. Did you notice how it moved from agony to ecstasy and then back again? Like a rollercoaster, at breakneck speed, from heights to depths so fast that the blood drains from your head, and then from your feet. Back and forth between trust and tremor, hope and horror, confidence and cataclysm, assurance and anxiety.

        Trouble. Trouble for sure.

        Then if you turn to today’s Gospel lesson in Luke, you’ll read some of Jesus’ unsettling warnings about the coming troubles, of wars and insurrections, earthquakes and famines, arrests and persecutions and betrayals. Trouble, nothing but trouble.

        But then he closes with 8 simple words: “By your endurance you will gain your souls.”

        So we have this warning: Trouble—no getting around it. And we have this counsel: Endurance. What will that look like?

        This election is among the most bizarre and vitriolic campaign ever. For the first time in history a woman was the nominee of a major party, and yet her opponent garnered 10 points more of women’s votes. 81% of the personal-morality-boosting evangelical Christian population aligned themselves with an admitted serial divorcee and adulterer, a man facing multiple counts of sexual assault and financial fraud, a man who famously said he could shoot somebody in broad daylight on a busy street and still get elected. According to exit polls, fully a quarter of his supporters admit he is neither qualified nor has the temperament for someone with access to nuclear launch codes, who’s bragged about wanting to “bomb the you-know-what” out of our enemies.

        Having said all these things—and it’s not because I am a big fan of Hillary Clinton—having said all this I hasten to add that Trump did not do this to us. Trump did not generate the sometimes vile hatred. He focused it. He voiced it. He gave it shape. But the anger was already there, and we are responsible for addressing it with something more than shouting and threats.

        Forget about moving to Canada. (You probably heard the Canadian immigration website crashed late last Tuesday night.) We may not like our nation right now, but we must—urgently—love our country.

        Only half the eligible voters in this country voted. And half of those just gave a middle-finger salute to the nation. We need to figure out why and do something about it.

        Trouble ahead, for sure. There are many ways to diagnose the resentment Trump’s campaign has energized. Van Jones called it “whitelash,” a white backlash. Whatever conclusion you reach, clearly a great many people in this country are living with a deeply-felt loss of status. Whether you do analysis based on race or class or gender or rural/urban divide, the end result is still an awful lot of very angry people, many among them who could care less about Donald Trump’s actual policies.

        So what have we learned, and what shall we do in the face of this trouble? I want to suggest four resolves needing special attention as we move forward.

        1. In a Facebook post Wednesday morning Missy Harris put her finger on the first thing we must resolve: “The truth is that no matter what the outcome of what we have woken up to this morning, I will be okay. My family will be okay. But many will continue not being okay and will continue living in fear for their lives and their children's lives. We must never be okay with this.”

        Most of us here will be OK, but our OKness must extend to those at risk.

        On Wednesday alone the stories of ginned up bullying is frightening.

        •A cell phone video at York County (Pennsylvania) School of Technology recorded some students walking the hall with a Trump campaign poster, chanting “white power.” [1]

        •Middle school students in a Detroit suburb chanted "build the wall" during lunchtime, leaving Latinx schoolmates in tears. [2]

        • Someone at New York University (my alma mater) Tandon School of Engineering wrote "Trump" on the door of Muslim students’ prayer room. [3]

        This week a friend circulated a note with a quote from the early 20th century journalist and social critic H.J. Mencken, who wrote: “As democracy is perfected, the office of the President represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day, the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last, and the White House will be occupied by a downright fool and a complete narcissistic moron.”

        I immediately responded:

        “I am a fan of Mencken’s wit but not his political judgment. It is the ‘plain folks’ of the land that are, in fact, among the biggest losers in this election. That some find it rather easy to manipulate them, yes, that much is true. That they deserve it, no. It is we, the unplain, the cosmopolitans, who are complicit in this disaster. And we shall continue our complicity until we find the wherewithal to fashion movements sturdy enough to topple from their duplicitous thrones the gangster-bankster class, along with their illicit aspirants.”

        I do think people like me, and many of you, have a greater responsibility for the mess we’re in than we know. Consciously or not, we have been infected with the Democratic Party elite’s conviction about “deplorable” human beings.

        This week grassroots organizer George Lakey wrote very perceptively. “We can build the scale of our movements by frankly admitting that alienated white working-class people are right: Both major parties are together destroying the country on behalf of the 1%. It may be hard for college educated activists to admit that the working-class view is more accurate than the belief of graduates of political science courses. However, the sooner the humility arrives, the better.” [4]

        And then there’s this insight from a photojournalist. “For better or for worse, we will only get through this if we begin to understand the emotions of those we disagree with in a way we haven’t figured out. Emotions are a bit like facts—once they exist, you’ve got to deal with them rather that wishing they’d just go away. The only true emotional solvent is empathy.” The author went on to describe a situation he faced at a Trump rally. He was working with another reporter, when a man in the audience came up and began screaming at them, calling them “media scum.” His colleague had the presence of mind to calmly ask the man his name. And that simple act defused the fury, and the accuser then began to tell the story of how he felt dismissed by the political status quo. [5]

        Parker Palmer said it better than anyone I know: "Beneath the shouting, there’s suffering. Beneath the anger, fear. Beneath the threats, broken hearts. Start there and we might get somewhere."

        A friend called last week to ask “What on earth are you going to say [about the election outcome]?” I responded, “Don’t know yet—still sorting through my own emotional reactions . . . something between flamethrowing and fetal crouch.”

        Those are typically our immediate reactions to threat. Reactive, or deactive. Act out or opt out. Aggressive, or indecisive. Fight, or flight.

        Our first resolve is to be vigilant, in every way we know how, in protecting the first strike targets of bullies of every sort. We must be prepared to disrupt what passes for “peace” in doing so.

        2. The second, equally urgent resolve is to listen attentively, with empathy, to the anger of those who in fact have no stake in the gangster-bankster ruling class. They are being used as surely as others who have no place at the table.

        These two resolves sometimes seem to be in opposition to each other. Prophetic work, pastoral work. Advocacy, and empathy. They’re not. Of course they involved different tactics, and some people are more adapt at one or the other, but these two vocations must collaborate and inform each other if we are to fulfill our mission.

        3. Then there’s a third important resolve if we’re to be about the work of peacemaking, rooted in justice and tempered by mercy. It’s so obvious it took me three proofreads of this text to realize it was missing.

        People of equal intelligence, compassion and commitment have been, and likely always will be, disagreeing about how to translate our dream for a beloved community into a unified strategy for how to get there. We need to be emotionally prepared to not only tolerate dissent within the ranks but to make it work for us.

        4. Finally, and most importantly, there is a fourth resolve.

        Several weeks ago Sydney wrote an amazingly empathetic, visionary poem. (And yes, I know I may be biased.) She talked about those “who walk with me to the world of peace.” And it ended with “I walk to a new world, finding all the new secrets, waiting to be found.”

        And this brings us to today’s text from Isaiah and its treasure trove of secrets, waiting to be found. You already know some of them. You can see some of them have been wonderfully illustrated, hanging here on the wall.

        “New heavens, new earth . . . delight in my people . . . no more weeping . . .  God answers . . . wolf and lamb together!” The secret to our ability to persevere, despite the turmoil and trouble, is to stay connected to the vision of new heavens and new earth, to the Kingdom of God, to the Beloved Community, to the God Movement. This is the key unlocking everything else, which is why it is so important to return week after bruising, troubling week to communities of conviction like this one. Ironically, it is in the midst of trouble that our hearts are most prepared to receive what is surely Good News for a world mired in vengeance and retaliation. A Mexican proverb says is well. “They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we are seeds.”

        A brief anecdote from the Jewish sage Martin Buber, and then I’m done.

        “Once they told Rabbi Pinhas of the great misery among the needy. He listened, sunk in grief. Then he raised his head. ‘Let us draw God into the world,’ he cried, ‘and all need will be quenched.’ God’s grace consists precisely in this,” that God wants divine attention to be won by humanity, so much so that God relinquishes divine prerogative to enter the troubled world of human enmity.

        Let us draw God into the world, sisters and brothers. This vision only comes to those who risk, to those willing to suffer on behalf of these treasures waiting to be found, maybe—in extreme circumstances—even to die for the Promised Land. But remember: we are seeds whose burial has the power to regenerate the world.

        May it be so, even now, even today.

#  #  #

[1] http://kutv.com/news/nation-world/reports-of-racially-charged-incidents-at-york-vo-tech

[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewbpQEGwxQY

[3] See Sean O’Kane’s “Day 1 in Trump’s America” for other examples of post-election hatemongering. https://medium.com/@seanokane/day-1-in-trumps-america-9e4d58381001#.6yrnnejd7

©ken sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org

[4] George Lakey, “Without emphathy for Trump voters, movements can’t succeed,” Waging Nonviolence http://wagingnonviolence.org/feature/43323/

[5] Dominick Reuter, “On the Election” https://medium.com/@dominickreuter/on-the-election-5a946af1d090#.o69e0shp9

Covenant Vows for new and renewing members

A litany for worship

Background: Circle of Mercy Congregation has no indefinite members.
Each year, on the anniversary of our founding, both new and renewing members join
in a covenant reaffirming our vision and mission, on the first Sunday of Advent
(or second, if the first falls on Thanksgiving holiday weekend).

 

{Leader}  In this watchful season, we gather ’round the table of bounty to embrace newcomers to our Circle and to renew our covenant vows. To these new ones, we ask: Do you know where you are, what are you promising, and what is being promised to you?

{New Members}  What place is this? Remind us of what we need to know.

This is a sanctuary of refuge amid the empire of enmity. Here hungry ones find food, and proud ones are scattered. Here mountains are brought low and valleys are lifted up. Here mercy trumps vengeance, and the whole earth learns to magnify God. Do you wish to be here?

Yes, we do. We have heard of such a place, where cries can be made and are tenderly heard. Where good tidings are told. Where voices find strength and the Gentle Shepherd embraces all who approach.

Be clear before you speak. Are you prepared to love God more than breath itself? To follow Jesus as the Spirit gives you vision? Are you prepared to know and be known in this Circle of companions?

Yes, we are ready. And now are you also ready? You have come here before us. Does any special honor come from that?

No honor save one: Of welcoming you into this Circle. It isn’t always easy here. We share in the conflicts common to all creation. Sometimes the vision seems slow, and weariness overtakes us. But joy sustains, and grace is sufficient. Our guiding creed is the Rule of Mercy. To its Author alone do we pledge faithfulness.

Then let us announce our intent together:

{All together, in unison}

 The Spirit of the Lord is upon us, because God has anointed us to bring good news to the poor. God has sent us to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of Jubilee! Here we stand, together, servants of the One who turns us into friends. Here we stand, keeping watch, listening for the singing of angels, the approach of Magi, and the Advent of Hope Unbound.

Blessed One, who brings strength in the struggle for a new heaven and a new earth; who brings comfort when life unravels and hope is harsh; make us submissive in the manner of Mary. Give us wombs of welcome, for each other, for strangers in our path, even as for your Presence and Purpose. Let it be with us according to your word. Amen!

—written by Ken Sehested

Watching and Waiting in a Half-Spent Night

A sermon prior to covenant Sunday

Ken Sehested
Circle of Mercy, 28 November 2004
Matthew 24:36-44

Background to this sermon. Circle of Mercy Congregation has no indefinite members.
Each year, on the anniversary of our founding, both new and renewing members join
in a covenant reaffirming our vision and mission, on the first Sunday of Advent
(or second, if the first falls on Thanksgiving holiday weekend).
See "Covenant Vows for new and renewing members.")

            One summer, during my college days, I worked with a road construction crew in Waco, Texas. It was some of the hardest work I’ve ever done . . . or, maybe not because the work was so hard, but the working conditions were so severe, when you factor in the hot Central Texas heat, frequently working close to hot asphalt paving equipment. And the constant cloud of dust broiling up from bulldozers and scrapers.

            I came home every evening, drank a quart or more of water and fell into bed, just to gather enough energy to cook dinner.

            Occasionally I fell asleep. One day in particular, it was a deep sleep.

            I suddenly awoke with a start. Some unfamiliar noise roused me. The first thing my eyes saw were my two roommates, fast asleep. Then I noticed the half-light, half-dark of the sun just beneath the horizon. Then my clock.

            OH, MY GOD! It’s seven o’clock. I’m supposed to be at work at 7 o’clock.

            So I leapt out of bed, threw on my clothes and shoes, stumbled down the stairs, into my car, and raced over to the worksite.

            But no one was there!

            OH, MY GOD! No one’s here!! They’ve moved to another location, and I’m too late to find out where. I’ll get fired for sure.

            My first thought was: Go home, call the office, find out where they’re working today, show up late with a sheepish apology and promise I’ll never do it again. But I was too embarrassed to make such a call. So my mind starts working up a description of some illness that’s kept me in bed for the day.

            As I turned my car around and started heading home, it suddenly occurred to me that the smudge pots were still lit and arranged for traffic direction. That’s usually the first thing we did every morning—we douse the flames and move the pots back out of the way.

            And then something else began dawning on me: The fading light seemed awfully funny somehow.

            Suddenly it hit me. It wasn’t early morning, and I wasn’t late for work. Actually, I was nearly 12 hours early.

            It was still evening. About 7:30 p.m. When I got back home, my roommates were up and preparing dinner. And worried about me: “What made you bolt out of the house, squealing tires down the driveway?”

            It’s the most disorienting feeling I’ve ever had in my life. My roommates spent the whole summer laughing about that episode.

            Staying awake, paying attention—“walking in the light,” in the words of the Prophet Isaiah—are important images for the spiritual life, particularly during Advent.

            Advent is the season of half-spent night, when we “wait for the Lord, more than those who watch for the morning.”

            Half-spent night, when we know that there is a power to redeem, but it’s nowhere on the horizon, and we wonder if our dark vigil is a silly exercise.

            Half-spent night, when, in Isaiah’s fantastic imagination, we are urged to envision the day when nations shall beat their swords into plowshares. What are the political prospects of anyone getting elected on such a platform.

            Half-spent night—or, as the Apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the church in Rome, “the night is far gone, the day is near . . . now is the moment for you to wake from sleep.”

            “Stay awake,” Jesus admonished in this strangely apocalyptic teaching in Matthew. “Stay awake, get ready, pay attention.”

 

            Unfortunately, we are often world-weary people, victims of too many half-spent, sleepless nights. And left wondering if we’ve been duped.

            There’s a line in a new recording by Tom Waits: “I want to believe in the mercy of the world again.” And so do we. But is it possible, when there’s such overwhelming evidence to the contrary? I mean just look at the world . . . open your eyes to what’s going on all around us! What kind of fool do you think I am? If swords-into-plowshare were a stock option on the futures market, would you invest?

 

            Maybe you’ve heard the story of Michael May, a 43-year-old man who lost his sight after a chemical explosion when he was a young child. Last year he agreed to undergo experimental eye surgery, developed by medical researchers based on some scientific breakthroughs and technological developments.

            To everyone’s astonishment, the surgery has restored sight in one of his eyes. What’s even more astounding, however, is the fact that while May can now identify simple shapes and colors, and can spot the nearby Sierra Nevada mountains from his northern California home, can marvel in the vibrancy of plants and flowers, and can see objects in his way when he walks down the sidewalk, researchers now know that full recovery of sight is more than an optical issue.

            What they’re finding is that while May now has the capacity to “see” things, seeing things and interpreting their meaning are very different things. May still has great difficulty with three-dimensional patterns and other complex objects such as the faces of family and friends. He still strains to describe the difference between a man and a woman. He describes a cube as a square with extra lines.

            In other words, “seeing” means more than having a functioning eye ball. In order for sight to be fully useful, what we literally see has to be interpreted in meaningful ways. Which is to say: Vision, like language, is something that must be learned.

            Next Sunday represents a significant new marker in our common life. It’s the third anniversary of our meeting together. For the first year, we dated regularly. Then, in the second year, we decided to go steady, and for the first time people actually made pledges of financial support. This year we got engaged—we hammered out common language to describe who we are, what we do, what we believe in and long for. So, if you carry forward that metaphor, next Sunday is something of a wedding day, since for the first time we’re actually asking you to formally declare if, and how, you plan to affiliate with this body.

            (Each of you has a packet which contains the latest versions of our founding documents, along with a card which asks you to indicate your affiliation and your financial pledge for the coming year. Please bring this card with you next Sunday and we will ritually collect them as part of our liturgy.)

            Many of us have wedding jitters. What if this doesn’t work out? What if the thrill of romance fades? Can I put up with people that might irritate me?

            Here we are, watching and waiting in a half-spent night, trying to decide if the meager light available is merely the foretaste of the coming dawn—or maybe it’s the beginning of a long, dark night. Is it sunrise or sunset? It’s possible to get confused.

            The strange teaching from Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel indicates that no one knows exactly what lies ahead. “About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Abba.” But whatever the case may be, we will need each other’s help learning to see, learning to interpret, learning to discern the movement of the Spirit amid the world’s chaotic and conflicting claims.

            If the prospect of this kind of covenanted community seems like good news, join us next Sunday for the festivities.