We’re approaching Labor Day Weekend.  While for many it’s a time for vacation and a last-ditch effort to soak up the summer, the holiday is also a time to celebrate work and be mindful of rest.  In honor of Labor Day, our worship service will focus on labor issues.  Kristin Kumpf, a lay leader who works for Interfaith Worker Justice, will be preaching.  Reminder: There will be One Service at 10:30am. If you’re in town, please join us!  Interested in what The United Methodist Church believes about labor and justice?  Read more.

As we prepare for this holiday, I offer this prayer by theologian and biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann, from his book Prayers for a Privileged People:

Labor Day
We are again at our annual moment to honor labor,

To remember those who do hard work, to recall tales of depression poverty, to wonder at our economy.

As we remember, we aware that “labor” today is surrounded by hostile euphemisms…

Downgrading, outsourcing, minimum wage, 401(k)s, all strategies to cut costs, with the result that laborers are put at more risk, all the while we indulge in endless extravagance.

We are mindful on this day:

That most hard labor in our country is performed by people who may not be like us, African Americans, Hispanics, people who lack our advanced skills and connections, and who settle for being labor that is cheap, while food and housing continue to grow more expensive; That we are here because our mothers were in labor for us, loving us before we were born, available for inconvenience and for pain, and as we grew…for worry in the night.

That there is other work to be done, what Jesus called, “my Father’s work,”: healing the sick, caring for the poor, casting out demons, doing the hard work of justice.  We give thanks for those who do this.

On Labor Day, with most of us so privileged that we do not sweat unless we play tennis or jog, give us fresh perspective on our labor, that our lives consist in more than earning and eating, in making and selling, that our lives consist in the hard, urgent work of the neighborhood.

Empower us as you did our mothers that we may birth new well-being, that neighbors may live in justice, that we may know the joy of compassion, that overrides the drudgery of our common day.

We pray in the name of Jesus, from whom we know your own self-giving life, for we gladly confess that “no one works like him.” Amen.

See you on Sunday (only ONCE, at 10:30am!) and think about who you can bring with you.

Grace and Peace,
Kate

Luke 14:1, 7-14

Imagine with me that you are hosting a dinner party. You have spent weeks preparing—cleaning the house, planning the menu, going over the guest list, cooking the dinner. And then when people arrive you are a gracious host—making sure nobody’s drink glass is empty, that the volume of the music is just right, that the trays of appetizers remain full.

You’ve put much effort into making this a pleasant experience for everyone. And then, as everyone is seated at the table, one of your guests begins to criticize you. Begins to criticize your guest list—telling you that you shouldn’t have invited the people you did. The people that are sitting right there next to him. How would this make you feel? Probably pretty uncomfortable—I know I would be. Others in the room would be uncomfortable as well. We’ve all had the experience of sitting around the table, engaging in polite conversation, when someone—that guy—we all know one of those guys—says something that moves the conversation from polite to candid. From nice to challenging (often it’s when a family member brings up politics or religion). And it’s hard to know how to react.

Well, this is what’s happening in our gospel lesson from Luke. Jesus has been invited to dinner, at the home of one of the Pharisees. And instead of making polite conversation, he attacks his host for inviting his friends, siblings, and rich neighbors. Where are his manners? Emily Post would not approve. We all know the rules—dinner is not the time to make everyone uncomfortable. Save that for a lecture, a classroom, a debate in a boardroom. Dinner is time to be comfortable.

This is a scene that is familiar to us—sitting around the table at a meal. It’s hard to imagine any scene more ordinary than a meal. Meals are basic to human life, across time, history, and culture. We all need to eat to survive, so meals are universal. Of course, the customs, type of food, and way of eating varies greatly throughout the world. But the human need to nourish ourselves with food, often in the company of others, remains constant. In our own lives, we eat 3 meals everyday, routinely, often without thinking much about them.

So this scene isn’t very dramatic….Jesus is merely sitting down, eating a meal. The gospel is more exciting when Jesus is extraordinary—when he’s performing miracles—walking on water, healing the blind with the touch of his hand. When he’s transfigured on a mountain with Moses and Elijah. But this isn’t the kind of scene we have in our gospel lesson for today. Nobody is raised from the dead, no demons are miraculously cast out. No miracles here, just an ordinary meal. Mel Gibson wouldn’t make a movie out of this scene.

So what is Jesus doing, this extraordinary man, this man of miracles, spending his time eating a meal? And talking about meals? Making a social faux pas—criticizing his host. Aren’t there more important things with which to be concerned? More important things than the guest list at a dinner party?

After all, this is the section in Luke where Jesus is on his journey to Jerusalem, the place where he will be crucified. And he knows this. On his journey to his death, Jesus is concerned with making sure his disciples and his followers understand his message, what he came to earth to say and do be. He knows it’s crucial that they understand what he represents, so that when he is gone they will continue to tell his story and spread his message to the world.

He spends his time on this journey contrasting the world as it is with what the world should be. What God wants for our lives—God’s vision of the kingdom. It’s in this section that Jesus tells the parable of the rich fool, who is greedy and stores up his grain instead of sharing it and living in the moment. He admonishes the Pharisees and the lawyers—those with great power and influence in society. He tells them it is hypocritical to be so concerned with the outside of the body when they are greedy and selfish on the inside. He admonishes his disciples to not compare themselves with those who “sin more”. No, he tells, them, we must first point the finger at ourselves, and repent.

He recognizes the world as it is—consumed by money, power, and status; full of those of us who are quick to judge others without looking inward first; a place where selfishness reigns over benevolence to one’s neighbor. Sounds a lot like our society.
And Jesus is here giving us an alternate vision, of how the world can and should be, when we follow him and bring God’s vision to earth. God’s world, he teaches us, prioritizes relationship over status, equality over greed, peace over power.

What an important message! So time is clearly of the essence—Jesus is on an urgent mission to make sure his followers are able to follow him when he is gone.

So why does Luke take the time to tell us about an ordinary meal? In the middle of this important journey.

Let’s take a closer look at our scripture passage for today. Jesus is eating a meal, on the Sabbath, at the home of a Pharisee, a religious leader with great power. There were other pharisees dining along side him. It’s in this setting that he directly addresses his host. He tells him not only who he shouldn’t invite—those who are like him—but he also tells him who he should invite. The poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. What do all of these have in common? They represent the most vulnerable in his society. Those without great power. And it’s not just that these people were dependent, but they were social outcasts.

So here we have Jesus calling on the one with the most social status to invite those with the least status to the table. To be in relationship with the most vulnerable. And he’s not telling him to go to a shelter and feed the hungry; to make a donation to a society that helps those who are sick. No, he’s telling him to invite these outcasts into his day-to-day, ordinary life. To be a guest around the table for his daily lunches and dinners, to really get to know these people. Talk about uncomfortable.

And we, like the Pharisees, live in a world divided by social barriers, whether we are conscious of them or not. And Jesus is reminding us to look for those barriers and knock them over.

There’s a dinner party that happens in Atlanta, where I used to live, once a month, that invites people from different social backgrounds. This dinner party occurs at the Georgia Justice Project. The Georgia Justice Project was founded by a former partner from a huge and wealthy law firm who decided to answer God’s call to do something different with his law degree. They take a holistic approach to criminal justice—it’s a law office that serves the poor, through trying to meet all of their client’s needs, including addiction, financial, and other needs. Their goal is to help their clients change their lives, not just deliver legal services. One of their projects is that they’ve started a lawn care business, and when their clients are out of jail they are able to find employment and get back on their feet.

Each month, GJP has regular dinners for their clients and their families. The staff, clients, and family come together at the dinner table. The idea is to create community and offer support, a means of fostering long-term supportive relationships, which is one their goals.

The current director, Doug Amar, tells a story about a dinner that happened a few years ago. about fifty people were sharing dinner. Doug was sitting beside Meg. Meg is married to Bill, a GJP client who had been out of prison for about a year. As they were eating, Meg started moaning – the kind of sound people make when they have eaten something incredibly delicious. “Um, um, um.” Doug looked at her and she made the same sound. “Um, um, ummmm!” The intensity was growing. Meg is a good cook. And to this dinner she had brought her famed potato salad. “What is it?” Doug asked, thinking she was commenting on the food. “Your potato salad sure is good.” He told her.
“No, it’s not that,” Meg replied. Then solemnly, deliberately, she said slowly, “I am having dinner with A LAWYER!”
Doug was taken back.

He took his status for granted—he interacts with lawyers everyday. He doesn’t routinely think of himself as someone with great power. But it took stretching outside of his comfort zone—sitting down at a meal with someone from a different sector of society—to realize what power he had. This woman never imagined she would be in relationship with a lawyer. Sure, she’s interacted with lawyers, but never had a meal with one.

And this is the power of the table—the ordinary table, the place where we eat every day. The table is an equalizer—we eat the same food, drink the same beverages, sit around the same space. It’s an intimate gathering—we have no choice but to make eye contact and conversation.
Doug realized in this moment how crucial these meals are, and continues to have them each month. Because his legal service work is certainly important—
But it’s sitting around a table, in relationship, where true transformation occurs. Where God’s grace is present, where we glimpse the kingdom on earth.

And isn’t this what Jesus is calling us to do? To be in relationship with those outside of our comfort zones, to stretch beyond social boundaries.
And we are called to do this in the ordinary, in the daily. When we’re scarfing down a sandwich, or sitting at the cafeteria table.

God’s grace is present in the ordinariness of our lives. Isn’t this what the incarnation is all about? God, the holy, the divine, more extraordinary than we can imagine…..comes to earth as an ordinary human being. With flesh and bones, born in a manger, to a young mother and father without much to their name. God came into the world crying and bloody, just like each one of us.

And this is what’s happening in our passage from Luke: Jesus calls on us to bring God’s kingdom into our daily lives, into the meals we have on a regular basis. To set God’s table wherever we are. Maybe this is an actual table—being in relationship over a meal—but his invitation extends to all aspects of our lives.

Wow! What an overwhelming task. What a bold call. Are we really capable? Us, mere humans, to help bring God’s kingdom to earth?

Well, the good news is, Jesus isn’t asking us to emulate his miracles—to walk on water ourselves, to cure blindness with the wave of our hands, to bring people back from the dead. He’s asking us to bring the kingdom vision—God’s vision—into our everyday lives. To sit at the table together. To talk and listen to each other.

And this means that we will have to stretch beyond our comfort zones. But what if we lived our ordinary lives as if every action were an opportunity for God’s grace to break-in?

Think with me about the things we do everyday, and imagine the possibilities when we open ourselves to new relationships.

*When you drive to church on Sunday, do you just bring your family, or do you open your car to someone who is unable to get here on their own?

*When you’re sitting in the school or office cafeteria, do you invite someone outside of your social group to join your table? Who works in a different department that may not carry the same status as yours?

*When you leave your office for lunch, who from your workplace do you invite to come along?

*When we look around in our day-to-day lives, does everybody at our dinner table look like us? Have the same life experience? What about in our social lives, our workplaces, our church? Is everybody like us, or to we gather and really listen to others, especially those with less privilege?

When we move beyond what makes us comfortable, we are often surprised by the grace of God that breaks forth.

It’s a difficult call, this call of Jesus, to go against the rules of the world, of culture, of what our society emphasizes every day. The disciples failed over and over again, and so do we. For two years, in my last church, I gave out sack lunches every week, to hungry people who come to the church. On occasion I sat down with someone and talked, but that was rare, and I never in those 2 years actually sat down and ate a meal with someone who came in for outreach. They took their lunch somewhere else and I ate alone in my office or went out with a colleague. It’s difficult to do.

But the good news is, we worship a God who knows that we’re vulnerable, and broken, and who invites us to the table anyway. Not in spite of our vulnerability, but because we are loved and valued in the kingdom of God. Because God’s grace knows no bounds. And because we know this radical love, in the midst of our brokenness, we can’t help but spread it to others, to share this extraordinary, divine love in our ordinary lives.

Let’s again imagine that we’re hosting a dinner party. This time we invite Jesus to be our guest. The rules are far different when we allow him to be our guide instead of Emily Post. It means that we will have to go outside our comfort zone. Invite people who don’t make our lists. The rewards for being uncomfortable far outweigh the risk— when we set the table with openness and compassion, nourish ourselves with relationships, quench our thirst with the good news of the kingdom. When we live our lives this way, we can hear Jesus saying “whenever you do this, do this in remembrance of me”.

And this is the greatest comfort of all.

Thanks be to God! Amen.

photo by zobeiry

Durbin Family

Sarah, Rachel and Jonah live in Oak Park and found Holy Covenant through Reconciling Ministries. Rachel is a senior at OPRF High School and Jonah is in 4th grade at Longfellow Elementary. Rachel is an accomplished figure skater who would perform on ice every weekend if given the opportunity. She is really excited about Akwaaba, the teen youth group she started at Holy Covenant, and is hopeful the group will finally take root this fall. Rachel just recently got back from YTI (Youth Theological Initiative) where she had the opportunity to explore important theological and social issues with other teens and consider the power of becoming a “public theologian”. Jonah is your typical boy. He loves sports especially soccer and plays on a traveling team. He is loud and is constantly moving. Which is entirely opposite from what you see at church. For just being nine, he has a big heart and is always making sure that his sister is taken care of. Sarah works in the non-profit world. She is a member of the Children and Families Committee and is on the board of a local LGBT organization. As a family, they have a passion for social justice and providing service in the community.

Read more about becoming a member.

What do you think of when you hear the word “Leader”?

Efficient CEOs? Successful politicians? The ability to empower others toward a common goal?

We learn much about leadership in our secular lives, from school to business to our volunteer efforts. These messages are helpful and can lead to many kinds of successes. But when we talk about leadership in the church, in our lives of faith, what do we mean? Is it somehow different?

I invite you to our Holy Covenant Leaders’ Retreat, Saturday Sept. 11 from 9am-12pm at the church. We’ll be exploring what it means to be a spiritual leader under the guidance of Rev. Lisl Heymans Paul. During the morning we will examine our own spiritual gifts and then use Scripture and prayer to discover how we can best use these in our church.

If we want to lead our community to Seek God, Love all People, and Change the world, we first have to go deeper in our own spiritual lives before we can know where God is calling us. Henri Nouwen, the great spiritual writer, says this about a saint of the faith: “Like all great disciples of Jesus, Mother Teresa affirmed again the truth that ministry can be fruitful only when it grows out of a direct and intimate encounter with our Lord.” Our call is to be a community of spiritual leaders, focused not on how much we can get done, but on how close we can grow to Christ. When this is our focus, we will be amazed with the abundance that flows forth! We’ll produce more fruits than we ever thought possible.

You are welcome to come if you hold an official leadership position, are a leader of the community without a title, or someone who is interested in becoming a leader here and wanting to learn more. Please don’t hesitate to be in touch if you have any questions. If you’re coming, RSVP to me and please bring a Bible. If you don’t have one, let me know, and I’ll get you one!

See you on Sunday and think about who you can bring with you.

Grace and Peace,

Kate

Luke 13:10-17

She’s a broken woman.
She’s also faithful, coming to the synagogue every single week on the Sabbath. To pray, to sing, to worship God with her community, her community that’s become her family.
For eighteen years she’s walked into that sanctuary bent over. Broken.
364 times she’s entered that space, week after week, year after year, and she couldn’t see anything but the small piece of ground right underneath her eyes, her vision reduced to the patch of land around her feet. 364 times she’s walked into that synagogue, bent over and broken.

She lives in deep pain, all the time, which affects more than her body—she’s a powerful witness that body, soul and mind are always interconnected and her pain seeps into all aspects of her life. She’s broken because she’s a woman in a culture that values men—for their ability to work and gain political and religious power. But even in these constraints she’s not a very good woman: it’s nearly impossible to cook and clean when her head hangs so low. Animals are more valuable to the world than she is.

And there are people who look at her and they see only her bent-over-ness. She’s so tired of being reduced to her ailment…they see the small patch of ground where her body bends over, but they can’t see that she loves a good joke, lost a beloved son in war, survived cancer and makes a mean falafel. They look at her and don’t even know her name: oh, there’s the bent-over woman, here again. A broken body, back to worship.

We, too, enter the sanctuary, broken.
For some of us, it’s our first time here. Others come week after week, year after year.
And we carry with us our own ailments:
Wounds we’ve carried for 18 or more years: alienation from parents, chronic back pain, rheumatoid arthritis, self-loathing and shame, grief over a lost brother or the aunt who raised us.
Or fresh hurts bubbling over the surface: divorce, sudden unemployment, fears about paying the mortgage or finding our next meal, the recent news that a loved one needs surgery.
We carry our woundedness with us here and lay it on the altar.

Many of us know, like the bent-over woman, what it’s like for people to look at us and reduce who we are to a small part of our lives: when we reveal a cancer diagnosis, faces change and that’s all anyone can think about us; or they say: he’s the one who’s HIV positive; she had the miscarriage; his lover left him and ran off with another man. When people look, they see that small patch of ground around us, and call us broken. All the while having no idea that we’re killer scrabble players, avid bike riders, compassionate daughters, and we volunteer every week at the Night Ministry. That our deepest longing is just to be seen for exactly who we are. In the church and the world, people look at us and see a broken body, back to worship.

We confess too, though, that when we enter this space, sometimes it’s easy for our vision to be reduced to the ground right underneath our eyes, seeing only our own feet. Getting so consumed with what’s going on in our little patch of the world that we forget to look up. Forget to be grateful that we have the capacity to see beyond ourselves. We find ourselves ignoring the pain and the brokenness of the people around us. Sitting next to us, singing the same songs and saying the same prayers. “That’s the gay guy, I wish he’d stop talking about equality”; I’ m just going to come in and slip out, afraid that if I go deeper I might become vulnerable…and hear someone else’s vulnerabilities. If we don’t ask, we won’t know that the woman next to us struggles with an eating disorder and longs to tell someone; if we see the guy in the pew across from us solely as that person who disagreed with me in a meeting, we can feel self-righteous and overlook that his anger is because his mom’s about to die. We too often overlook the humanity that’s living all around us.
We carry a lot of brokenness when we come to worship.

The synagogue and its leaders are broken.
The leader tries so hard to be a good and faithful Jew. He studied since he was a young boy: reading the sacred texts, engaging the rabbis, living out the law as he prayerfully leads his congregation. He has really good intentions and wants to be good at his job. Successful.

When he got out of school he knew that he’d work harder than anybody…be the first one at work and the last one to leave. That’s the advice his father always gave him and why his father rose to the top of his law firm. But the more he pours himself into making other people happy, gaining the approval of the rabbis and priests who are over him, the less connected he finds himself to God and to his people.

He watches a miracle right before his very eyes—a healing of one of his parishioners. He knows she’s in pain, he’s heard her story, ministered with her family, held her hands at doctors appointments. He should be ecstatic! The woman is in pain no more! But instead, he lives out of fear—what will the chief priest think if he knows there was healing on the Sabbath here, in his synagogue? Will he be fired? Is this really what God wants? What other laws will people start breaking. In response to the healing, he shouts out: Stop! Why did you do that! Don’t heal her today! Wait for tomorrow!
He’s broken.

We, church people and church leaders, find ourselves broken.
We know what it’s like to compromise who we are for our jobs. Starting out with good intentions and then ending up pouring ourselves into work that doesn’t give us much meaning or fulfillment. We sacrificed our relationships at the expense of “success” and don’t quite know where that’s really gotten us.

And the church likes to say: Wait! Stop! It’s not time for healing. Leave that until tomorrow. We’ll take away pain another day. When it’s more comfortable. When we’re not afraid of the church hierarchy. We’ll get to that when we have a committee in place to review it.
Inviting more young adults into our churches and ministry? Advocating for health care for all of God’s children; delivering aid to Pakistan, as much as we give to other disasters; inclusion for people of all sexual orientations and gender identities; racial reconciliation; gender equity in our pulpits and agencies…
We say wait! Stop! We’ll get to that tomorrow. It’s not on our to-do list for today.
We’ll start paying women of color clergy the same salary as white male clergy once we’ve done some more studies on it.

And often, we and the church don’t do this out of malicious intent, it’s just that life gets in the way. Rules stop us. Order and other priorities make us hesitate. I find myself hesitating on a daily basis.
I know it would bring some healing to Margaret to call her and know how she’s feeling, but the afternoon slipped away; We know we should go to that rally for immigration rights but we’re too busy—we’ll make it to the next one. Tomorrow. Or next week…are the laws really so urgent? I know my grandmother would love for me to visit but she just doesn’t understand how many other priorities I have. I know I should quit smoking so I can live a long life..but..but..

And before we know it, it’s been 18 years, 364 times we’ve walked into worship and we find ourselves completely bent over. Only able to see the ground ahead of us and in need of some serious healing.

This, friends, is when Jesus breaks in. He breaks into our brokenness! Because Jesus sees beyond his own feet and into our hearts and souls and bodies and minds. And he sees us individually for exactly who we are, and at the same time sees our place in the larger world. His vision expands to all of God’s children. We are under his gaze.

He sees the bent-over woman, and sees beyond her ailment…she is a child of God and so he calls her to him. She never asks for anything but he sees her and seizes her: He says “woman, you are set free from your ailment!” Then he laid his hands on her. He laid his hands on her and immediately, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God!

Because of her encounter with Jesus, his healing hands, she is set free from brokenness. Jesus breaks in and frees her up to be whole. To pick up her grandchildren, to live without pain, to have a future with hope.

In order for Jesus to heal brokenness, he first has to break all the rules. He breaks rules about men touching women to whom they aren’t married; about women’s place at the front of the synagogue; he calls her a child of Abraham, acknowledging to the whole gathered community that she is indeed one of God’s chosen and beloved. Part of the covenant. As much a part as any man. It was taboo enough to touch this woman, picking her out from the worshipping crowd.

But those aren’t all the rules Jesus breaks….he heals her on the Sabbath, a day meant for rest and no work. He breaks the power of the old ways…the ways that keep women down and men up; that take more care for animals grazing than people who need care; that ignore people simply because they don’t look like everyone else.

He heals her by breaking away from the ways the world tries to keep us trapped by death and destruction.

By breaking those rules, he also heals those gathered at the synagogue. We don’t know what happens to that leader, whether he one day repents…but all those who witnessed his healing in the congregation rejoiced! Rejoiced! We talked last week about how Jesus said he came to bring division…well, this is what he meant: the synagogue leader may be divided from his congregation because he’s not willing to follow Jesus who’s breaking all the rules. But those who recognized Jesus’ healing, transformative power are forever changed, forever saved.

Jesus says to them: You’re taking care of the animals but not your own parishioners? You can give them water to live another day but forbid healing so that she has abundant life?

Jesus says to our church: You’re spending all your energy trying to ban gay marriage when the church is dying out? When what we really need are passionate and engaged young people to help heal the world?

Jesus says to us: You’re spending all your time trying to make other people happy and it’s making you miserable. I’m right here laying my hands on you, loving you and making you whole for exactly who you are…look up and recognize me! Break free from the chains of the world.

Jesus is healing us, right here, right now…he may not be physically laying his hands on us, but he’s breaking all the rules of our carefully ordered society and lives and smashing them to pieces. And by doing so he restores us to wholeness. And he’s doing it, whether we ask or not…like the bent-over woman, we don’t have to beg, we just have to show up and recognize that he’s there. Because he is, calling our name, saying, you my child are one of God’s beloved. He may not be able to completely remove an illness from us, but his hands to save us:
When we think we’re past redemption because of the terrible things in our lives, Jesus says: you are forgiven. You are still unconditionally loved. And we begin to break free…

When we are terrified of death, of our own or of our loved ones, Jesus says break free from the world that says death is always the end. Know and believe that through him we have eternal life…death is reconciliation with God, not the end. We are free from that fear.

We are free to break the rules that tell us we are less than because of our color or gender or socioeconomic status or sexual orientation…Jesus says you are whole for exactly who you are, right where you are.

This gospel lesson tells us, this morning, that we have a choice: we can be like the woman in our Gospel lesson…recognize and receive the healing that Jesus brings, and then rejoice! Rejoice and extend ourselves outward to heal others. Or, we can live our lives like the synagogue leader….uncomfortable with the message of Jesus, afraid of wholeness, fearful of breaking the rules of the world…and never extending healing outward.

Because he’s calling us to go out there and help him heal the world, to be his hands:

It’s easy to wonder: Is the healing of Christ really so urgent? Can’t we wait until tomorrow? Ask the woman who was bent over and broken for 18 years if she can wait. Jesus breaks those excuses, breaks down our boundaries and calls us to start healing, right here, right now. This is cause for great rejoicing! Let us give thanks and sing in joy for all the wonderful things Christ is doing! And may we join that mighty chorus by bringing healing into the world, right here, right now.

Luke 12:49-56

When I was 10 years old, in 1992, I visited Yellowstone National Park with my family. Yellowstone represents nature at its most abundant. I vividly remember being in awe at the beauty that surrounded me. Yellowstone is in Wyoming, near Grand Teton national park, so it sits at the foot of spectacular mountains, gleaming silver, that rise sharply into the deep blue sky. There was snow on the ground that summer, in the middle of July—to a girl from Texas this seemed miraculous. Yellowstone is full of wildlife in its natural habitat—bison herds that cross the road, causing traffic jams. Elk mothers with their babies, scampering through woods. And if you’re lucky, there’s even the occasional bear. And of course, there are the geysers, perhaps what Yellowstone is most famous for—water shooting up from the earth at regular intervals, spraying passersby.

I grew up in West Texas, which is flat and dry, no trees or natural bodies of water. So the lush trees and waterfalls of this place were a wonder to me—I couldn’t get enough of them.

Well, I was basking in this wonder, when one afternoon we approached a forest that was devastated by the great fire of 1988. Some of you might remember this fire—it garnered national attention. My sense of awe and abundance quickly left me as I was overwhelmed by the charred grass, the smell of smoke and death still lingering. This place that was so full of life was suddenly quite the opposite. This great fire seemed to destroy the beauty of God’s creation, the miraculous abundance that lived in this place. I remember feeling a great sense of tragedy as we walked through these woods, surveying the damage. Fire had destroyed the lushness I loved so much.

Fire is devastating. If you’ve ever had one in your home or office or experienced one in nature, you know just how violent it can be. It is really troubling, then, that in our gospel lesson today, Jesus invokes the imagery of fire. Listen again to his shocking words: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” This is hard for us to understand….Jesus, the prince of peace, ….is bringing fire to the earth? Charring grass, leaving us with the lingering smells of smoke and death? Jesus is supposed to build, not destroy. He’s supposed to pray and eat meals and teach and heal, turn our devastating world into a place of love and compassion. Fires don’t seem very compassionate.

Jesus doesn’t stop there, he goes on….he asks the crowd… “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
Who is this Jesus, who divides and destroys? Who burns down instead of building up?
I prefer to think of Jesus as the geysers, bringing refreshing waters from the earth into the air, surprising us with new life and energy. A Jesus that brings fire and divides is much harder to live with. Where is our Jesus of peace?

Because we come to church, come to faith, come to God, often when we are in need of some deep peace in our lives. Maybe you’re here because you’re plagued by anxiety and fear, and you need a safe place to rest for awhile. A place where the burning voices of self-doubt or rejection or depression aren’t producing ashes in your soul. We don’t come here to hear about fire.
Maybe you’re here because you have a joy you want to celebrate with your family of faith, in the presence of God: good news of a job or an engagement or a new niece. You want to make a joyful noise to the Lord, not be lectured about fire and division!

Maybe you’re here because you care deeply about justice…for immigrant rights here in the U.S., for the wars to end in Afghanistan and Iraq, for resources and dignity to be returned to Haiti, for people of all sexual orientations and gender identities to have abundant life in our country and our church, for all of God’s children to have access to a safe place to stay and 3 meals a day. The last thing we expect to hear at church, when we’re seeking the beloved community, is that Jesus comes to bring division, not peace. After all, many of us have left the church at some point in our lives because of all the hypocritical division that a life of faith can cause. Too often churches talk about the things that divide us rather than doing something and working to bring about change.

Where is our Jesus of peace? Why should we come to church, turn to faith, call on God when this is the message we are hearing?

Let’s take a closer look at the context in which Jesus was speaking. In this section of Luke, Jesus is on a journey to Jerusalem, the place where he will be crucified. And he knows this. As he makes his way towards his death, he’s desperately trying to teach his disciples and followers the message of the kingdom. He knows it’s imperative that they understand what he represents, so that when he’s gone they will continue to tell his story and spread his message to the world. Our passage is part of a series of teachings and sayings that Jesus is telling to crowds. We’ve been moving through this section of Luke over the summer: He tells parables that upset the status quo….It’s in this section that Jesus tells the parable of the rich fool, who is greedy and stores up his grain instead of sharing it and living in the moment; he tells the parable of the Good Samaritan, upsetting our expectations of who is worthy and who is not. He admonishes the Pharisees and the lawyers—those with great power and influence in society. He tells us it is hypocritical to be so concerned with the outside of the body when they are greedy and selfish on the inside. He admonishes his disciples to not compare themselves with those who “sin more”. No, he tells, them, we must first point the finger at ourselves, and repent.
*Jesus is teaching us, in this section, to question what is comfortable, to challenge the status quo.

So in our passage today, we are encountering Jesus on a mission—an urgent mission to make sure his followers receive his message before he dies. He’s been teaching his followers that the way the world is isn’t the way the world should be….he’s painting a beautiful picture of God’s kingdom, filled with tables where everybody is welcome, a place where the poor are rich, the outcasts find a place, and the voiceless get to speak and sing with the angels.
And as Jesus is teaching these things about God, he looks around and he knows that this message is upsetting to society—so upsetting, in fact, that the government is planning to kill him for his message. He will be killed for spreading this Good News about God’s kingdom. Because this message is threatening and scary, especially to those who hold power. Naturally, it divides people.

So in this text, when Jesus speaks of division, he’s not speaking about his intentionality, or his desire to divide…no, Jesus is naming the reality he sees around him. When he speaks out against the way things have always been done, some people will follow him and some people will resist. And this will cause division. Those who are threatened by his message will divide themselves from his followers.
Think about it…those with power, with money, who cause judgment, aren’t going to be happy with Jesus’ radical message about inclusion and equity for all. When he declares woe to the rich and blessings to the poor. This message is dividing people.

When Jesus says he didn’t come to bring peace, he isn’t advocating violence. Nowhere in the gospel do we have accounts of Jesus being violent—he is always peaceful in his interactions; he embodies reconciliation, dialogue, and turning the other cheek. So what does he mean here? Jesus is talking about peace in the sense of the status quo…..he is saying: I didn’t come to keep things the way they are; to sanction society as it exists. No, he tells us, I came to change the way things have always been done and to show you a new way, God’s way….the way of compassion, of justice, of forgiveness. And in order for this to occur, he has to upset, divide, and yes—even destroy—the way things have always been done.

I visited Yellowstone years after my initial visit. I had the same reaction of awe and wonder at the abundance of creation. And I returned to the scene of the forest fire, the place that years earlier had caused a sense of tragedy, of devastation, in my soul. But as I walked back into that familiar scene, walking with trepidation, I found the forest transformed…..standing there, years later, I witnessed ample evidence of new life. Instead of charry black stumps, there was lush green grass, new trees with growths of leaves and flowers. There was wildlife grazing…this place that had reeked of death was now filled with new life.

I went to a ranger talk, which they hold every night at the national parks. The ranger was talking about the forest fire, and the natural cycle of ecological succession. She explained that forest fires aren’t actually a sign of devastation, but of growth. That fires are part of the natural cycle, and essential for the maintenance of ecological balance. Yellowstone has a natural burn policy, which means that when fires are naturally started, they let them burn naturally, without human intervention. Because scientists know that fires actually benefit the maintenance of the ecosystem.

The fires left large patches of cleared ground opened to the sun. Seeds released from pinecones took root almost immediately. Lodgepole pine seedlings began to grow at the rate of an inch or two per year. Wildflowers were abundant by the following spring, and the grasses and shrubs were a rich green. Nutrients from the ash caused the vegetation to prosper. Trees that didn’t fall became feeding grounds for insects, and the insects in turn attracted many woodpeckers. The holes left by woodpeckers attracted many birds that used them for nests. Yellowstone was far from dead!

We’ve witnessed many wildfires in the United States over the past years, which are certainly devastating. But scientists claim that the reason there is such an outbreak is precisely because we haven’t allowed fires to burn naturally—we have tried to stop them, to maintain what we think is comfortable…but the results are that when the fires do burn, they burn out of control, because we were more concerned with our own comfort than with what is best for nature.

The same is true in our faith journeys. What Jesus calls us to do, what we need to learn from the natural world, is to spark fires, let them burn, and make way for new life to emerge. For God’s way to be our way, instead of maintaining what is easy, comfortable, and in line with the status quo.
We have to ask ourselves why we come to church, why we need faith, why we turn to God. If it’s to feel comfortable, then we’ve come to the wrong place.

As Christians, we’re not called to be comfortable. We are called to be a people who live into the reality of resurrection. We seek Jesus because we are a people who seek new life and seek it abundantly. The difficult reality is that new life never comes without death, without burning away of the old. That’s why this message about fire and division can be hard on our ears, especially if what we are seeking is comfort.
But what we know from the Gospel is that new life always comes from death: Jesus died, tortured by the powers of this world, but out of that horrific death, the imposition of the death penalty by a tyrannical government, God has the final word. Life wins. Eternal life through Jesus Christ that saves us and saves us abundantly. And it’s so much more joyful to live out of this hope than any kind of earthly comfort.

Think with me, for a moment, about what in your life needs to be burned in order for a new way to emerge. What are you holding on to because it’s comfortable, even though you know God calls us to let go?

Maybe it’s a relationship that is hurting you instead of bringing love…while it feels more comfortable to stay and not upset the delicate balance of our lives, Jesus is calling us to burn away what isn’t bringing us mutual respect and wholeness.

Maybe it’s a fear that we hold in our heart, that keeps us divided from our neighbors. It’s easier not to speak up for immigration rights in Arizona, or to confront white privilege, or to keep talking about gay marriage, but Jesus is calling us to burn away the categories that the world tells us are normal and acceptable and to confront privilege and power, even if it causes some flames to rise. Even if we’d rather, in our privilege, be comfortable and not upset our safe categories.

Maybe it’s letting go of a job that’s keeping us from being with our families.

Maybe it’s anger and resentment towards a family member that we ignore instead of working through. Maybe it’s an addiction that’s keeping you from becoming your whole self?

Maybe it’s heeding Jesus’ instruction to sell what we own and give it to the poor. It won’t be comfortable to simplify our lives, to examine our debt and do something about it. But as we let ourselves live into that discomfort, we will find radical life and peace that is no longer enslaved to our money or our debt and begin to live out of the joy of living generously.

Some things have to be burned down before true peace can come.

Sparking the fire of God in our lives won’t be easy, and it will cause division. But in order for new life to emerge, we have to burn away what is hurting us and hurting God’s precious world.

Because the rewards are far greater than the initial division.

Why? Because he calls us to challenge the status quo, to disrupt the peace of complacency, the peace of self-satisfaction, the peace of contentment; and to seek the peace of God, that peace which passes all understanding.

Without this fire of Jesus—this fire that brings new life—the kingdom will never come. The nutrients of compassion won’t fertilize the soil, the forest of forgiveness won’t have room to grow, the seeds of reconciliation won’t take root.

The good news is we worship a Jesus who comes with fire, the fire that kindles new life, and sparks rebirth. May we let go of what is comfortable and spark a fire of change and new life in the world. May we be a people who are no longer concerned with merely “keeping the peace” but instead inspired to seek God’s peace, empowered by the fire of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Hosea 2:14-23

In front of God and everybody. How many times have you heard that phrase, usually in a less than positive way (Fred skinny dipped in Buckingham Fountain, in front of God and everybody…). Well, ladies and gentleman, I’m here today to take the rain in that phrase and turn it into a rainbow (ow-did I just say that?). Ok, more specifically, I am here to invite you to share your love of music (and who doesn’t love music?) with God and everybody by joining the Holy Covenant Celebration Choir as we prepare this fall to once again blend our voices together in song and worship and praise. There are no auditions, no scales to sing in order to prove your vocal capabilities. Just a love of God, and the aforementioned love of music. There, see? You’re in. All practice materials are posted on the web, we gather on Monday nights to rehearse and then do a short run through on Sunday morning before singing at the 11:15 service. It’s fun, it’s community, it’s worship, and I truly hope you’ll consider it. In front of God and everybody.

Now if you are just not the singing type, there is still room at the musical table for you. We are looking for all manner of musicians to offer their talents during Communion at our 9:30 service. Guitar, violin, flute, kazoo, (ok-probably not kazoo), classical, contemporary-please accept this invitation to offer your gifts to this community.

Finally, if you are more of a behind the scenes person, please consider joining our Audio Visual team. This VIP position takes care of the Powerpoint and simple audio adjustments during our worship services. I’ll tell you everything you need to know (no previous experience necessary), and ideally, with enough folks in rotation, we only ask one service of you a month.

For further communications, questions, and volunteer hand raising, please contact me by e-mail.

peace,

Andrew Collins

Despite the humid days and bright sun, fall is in the air. Backpacks are on sale, students are registering for classes, and boots are entering the stores. Fall is an exciting time in the life of our church because many of us are back “home” in Chicago: returning to school after summers away and settling back in after traveling.

As we savor the last days of summer I want to whet your appetite for what we have in store here in the fall. September is our kick-off month, and from Sept. 12-Nov. 21, our theme will be:

I Love to Tell the Story

What’s your story?
Where does it connect with the stories of others?
How do we find meaning in the stories of our lives?
What is God’s story?

Join us this fall at Holy Covenant as we explore the adventure of our God who is always-creating, ever-alive, and speaking to us in the present tense. Through stories, we’ll recognize ourselves as characters in the divine drama, growing closer to God and one another. We’ll tell God’s story through worship, with testimonies and story-telling services; learn God’s story through bible study in small groups and storytelling sessions; and live God’s story as a people engaged regularly in mission and justice events. All are welcome!

In the coming weeks, you’ll be hearing more about signing up for small groups that begin in October (many groups on Bible study, spiritual practices, and growing deeper in our faith), singing with our choir, and engaging in mission and justice events. Be sure to put these special worship dates on your calendar: Sept. 12, Fall kick-off; Oct. 1 U2 Eucharist; Oct. 17 Children’s Sabbath; Oct. 31 Blessing of the Animals; and Nov. 7 Bluegrass All Saints.

As we prepare for the fall, prayerfully consider engaging fully in the life of this community. Share your story through the gifts you have to bring and connect to the stories of others, all as we engage in God’s story. Be thinking now about who you know that you can invite to worship with us in September. The best thing about sharing our stories in a Christian context is that they are never- ending-we are always welcoming new people and new revelations through the One who brings new life.

See you on Sunday and think about who you can bring with you!

Grace and Peace,
Kate

We are in the midst of transformation! With a growing community and a growing staff, we are making some space changes to best meet the needs of our church:

*The main office will now be a dedicated pastor’s office. It will be a place for me to work in the church, so I will have regular office hours and be available in the building during the week (formerly, I worked exclusively from home). It will also allow private space for meetings, counseling sessions, and pastoral conversations. Previously, because many people worked in the office and needed to access the copier and materials, it was hard to meet in confidence. Now that we have moved the copier and supplies out of the room, this will now be a space where we can have uninterrupted pastoral care. I hope it will be a welcoming and sacred space for us to be together!

*The gallery space houses dedicated space for Rebecca, who is now working 30 hours at the church as our Minister for Spiritual Formation. She will have private and permanent space to do her work and keep her things. She will also be using the pastoral office when needed to meet with someone privately.

*Ellen, our office administrator, also has a space in the gallery, across from the kitchen. She will continue to provide a welcoming presence when people arrive at the church. Her space still houses the main office computer and printer should you need to use them for church use.

*The basement is in a continual process of transformation. In addition to our new nursery, we have done extensive clearing out and cleaning up. Recently, we have cleaned out the locked room in the corner and converted it to a space where we keep the copier. It is also now a workspace where committee chairs, staff, and leaders can go to work at a desk, organize papers, etc.

MANY THANKS to those of you who have spent the last weeks cleaning, painting, organizing, and moving. Your hands and help are greatly appreciated and we couldn’t be the church without you!

Take a look when you’re here next, and come by during the week to say hello!

Don’t hesitate to be in touch if you have any questions.

See you on Sunday and think about who you can bring with you.

Grace and Peace,
Kate