April 28 Worship: "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right (or The Vicar of Dibley)"

On a beautiful Sunday morning, we gathered for worship at Eastgate.  We remembered our commitment to take care of God's creation on Earth Stewardship Sunday, and we continued raising money to support the Haitian medical clinic doctor.

We also concluded our April sermon series, "Everything I Need to Know About Community I Learned from TV."  In a rather cheekily titled sermon, "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right (or The Vicar of Dibley)," we considered how the church is portrayed in popular culture.  After admitting that church is rarely, if ever, an important location on television programs, I suggested that when religious people are shown, they tend to be depicted as well-meaning fools, which is an assessment about Christians that dates back to the days of the apostle Paul.

 

After making such a big deal about the lack of church on television, it should come as no surprise that there was a program Sunday night that featured a church-related storyline.  "The Simpsons" (which I noted on Sunday is sometimes called 'the most religious show on television' because the family regularly attends church) considered several church issues in a new episode where Homer is recruited to serve as a deacon by a new minister.  While there was much poking fun at the church, there was a serious issue raised in comparing the hip new minister, who is constantly talking about movies and TV shows (that doesn't sound like any minister we know, right?) in his sermons, to the long-standing Rev. Lovejoy, who is thought to be a bit boring and out of touch.  When a plague of frogs descends on the town (because Bart is mad that his father is taking his deacon responsibilities so seriously that he won't skip church), the people look to both ministers, hungry for words of wisdom -- and, not surprisingly, the more experienced Rev. Lovejoy is better equipped to provide such wisdom.

Despite the irony of a program that contradicted my sermon that very night, I think it is an exception that proves the rule.  The church that most of us value -- and the idea that religion has valuable wisdom to offer -- rarely shows up in popular culture.  If we are to invite others to be a part of Christ's church -- which has been important in our lives -- we need to figure out how to overcome this absence.  We need to find ways to describe and share our faith that overcome people's instincts that Christians are, at best, well-meaning fools.  And we need to stop waiting for popular culture to teach everyone about God and Jesus -- we need to do it ourselves.

If you missed Sunday's sermon, if you'd like to listen to it again, or if you'd like to share it with others, you can find an audio recording here.

Coming Up Sunday, April 28

As we come to our final worship service in April, we will be concluding the current sermon series, "Everything I Need to Know About Community I Learned from TV."  Last week, we talked about "Monk," a show that I believe can teach the church how to better live out Christ's vision for us to be a blessed community that works to include everyone in ways that nurtures their God-given talents.  This week, though, we talk about a significant challenge that TV (and popular culture in general) has created for the church.

Rarely does television show typical religious activities -- regular prayer or worship attendance.  And if a program does show religion, it is usually in a gentle comic fashion, like the BBC program, "The Vicar of Dibley," where religious people are generally well-meaning and kind, but not the sort of people who will change the world.  While most Christians will admit that any congregation has its share of quirky people, we also recognize that God is changing our lives -- and even changing the lives of others through us.  Popular culture cannot fathom how this works, if it even recognizes that the Christian faith can have such a positive impact.

Recognizing this, and truly admitting it, creates a new challenge for Christians who would live out Christ's call to invite others into discipleship.  More and more often, people outside of the church have no real idea of what faith looks like -- a recent poll suggested that almost 50% of people under 30 have never had a real interaction with any organized faith community.  If these people don't encounter honest descriptions of Christianity in popular culture, how will they learn about Jesus?  We'll explore this challenge, and what it means for us, on Sunday, in "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right (or The Vicar of Dibley)."

April 21 Worship - "Help! (or Monk)"

On Sunday we gathered again for worship in Eastertide, as we continue celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ and its aftermath.  In addition to some good Easter music (and there's still more to come as the Easter season goes on), we also began this year's effort to raise money to support a medical clinic in Haiti.  Some very good things are going at at Eastgate.

In the sermon, we considered the lessons of the TV program that inspired this month's sermon series, "Everything I Need to Know about Community I Learned from TV": Monk.  The one-hour crime drama, featuring Tony Shalhoub as the OCD, but brilliant, Adrian Monk, concluded its run a few years ago, but lives on in reruns.  As I shared in the sermon, which also incorporated the lessons of Jesus healing blind Bartimaeus, I think that the unique vision of communal support in Monk is something that the church needs to learn from and incorporate into our lives of faith.

If you missed Sunday's sermon, if you'd like to listen to it again, or if you'd like to share it with others, you can find an audio recording here.

Faithfully Looking for God's Presence

As I write this, the massive manhunt for the suspects who committed the bombing at the Boston Marathon appears to be over.  This marks the end of a week filled with new tragedies – an evident terrorist attack, a massive chemical explosion in a Texas town, severe storms and flooding – and the anniversaries of other tragedies – including shootings at Columbine High School and Virginia Tech and the Oklahoma City bombing.

Inevitably, such new tragedies remind us of other devastating events that are seared in our memories, violent events such as the Newtown massacre and the 9/11 terrorist attacks and natural disasters like the 2004 tsunami and the Joplin tornado.  The national attention and grieving make us remember where we were when Pearl Harbor was attacked and when President Kennedy was assassinated.

In the face of such events, particularly those with the loss of life, we ask, Why?  Why did innocent people suffer and die?  In cases of violence, we wonder in disbelief, Why would someone do this to other people?

Often, our questions then turn to God.  Why would God let such awful things happen?

This question has challenged people of faith for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.  Where is God in the face of violent evil?  Where is God in times of sudden distress, suffering, and death?  Some, understanding God to be omnipotent, struggle to comprehend how an all-powerful God chooses not to prevent such tragedies.  Some, understanding God to be wholly love, fear that some evil may be outside God's ability to stop.

My own assumption is that God is more active than we know, acting with wisdom that we cannot understand or fathom, which seems to be the implication of God's speech from the whirlwind in Job 38-39.  I imagine that there are many more tragedies that God prevents than we endure, but, as terrorism officials are constantly reminding, it is difficult to measure success by trying to count things that don't happen.

Whether this is true or not, though, there is a persistent question, Why is God silent?  If there are reasons why such tragedies must occur, why doesn't God share that wisdom with us?  Why won't God speak, whether in a still, small voice or out of the whirlwind?

I certainly have wondered these things many times.  I wish that God would share a glimpse of wisdom with us during these tough times; I wish God would answer our questions just as we must answer the questions of our children.  But sometimes I ask another question, What could God say that I would accept?  If I find the answers given in the Bible difficult to comprehend, what new word of God would I understand?

Recently, though, I've wondered if this focus on God's silence is misguided.  Maybe a profound answer, almost a sigh deeper than words, is given in scripture.  As the resurrected Jesus is speaking to his disciples before ascending to heaven, he says, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age."  Maybe it is more important to see God's presence in times of chaos and tragedy than listen for God's voice.

As a person of faith, I know that God is present during times of tragedy.  As waters rise and winds howl, as shrapnel flies and flames explode, God is present there.  More tangibly, if also more ephemerally, I have begun to notice God's presence in the aftermath of tragedy: in those who sacrifice themselves to prevent greater loss of life, in those who rush in to help the victims, in those who move to restore order, in those who come to comfort the grieving, to pick up the pieces, to rebuild in the shadow of destruction.

After the Newtown shooting and again after the Boston Marathon bombing, a quote from Fred Rogers circulated on Facebook and the rest of the Internet.  Mr. Rogers (or, really, Rev. Rogers, as he was an ordained Presbyterian minister) often said, when asked how to speak to children about tragedy, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.'  To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world."

So often we experience this sinful world as cold, anxious, and broken, filled with people who are fearful, backstabbing, and selfish.  How, then, do we explain those who go toward the violence, toward the suffering, toward the anguish?  How do we fathom people who run into burning buildings, who dive into floodwaters, who don flak jackets and head toward gunfire?

God's presence may be difficult to see at the moment of crisis, but it is unmistakable afterwards.  A handful of people may perpetrate acts of terror, pursuing their own ideological agendas, but the number of responders exponentially dwarfs them: EMTs, doctors, nurses, police, firefighters, public officials, ministers, emergency aid workers, National Guard troops, utility workers, and then, almost always, an army of volunteers.  And, with few exceptions, their main agenda is this: How can I help make this awful situation better for those who are suffering?

This is an attitude of compassion and hope.  These are acts of healing and love.  They are the example of God Incarnate, Jesus Christ, who promised us, "I am with you always...."  In fact, there are echoes when I almost hear Jesus continue, I am with you... in the hands and feet of those who bring healing and restoration... I am with you... in the hands and feet of those who share my mercy and love... I am with you... I am with you...

And I remember something my mother taught me.  Actions speak louder than words.

Coming Up Sunday, April 21

On Sunday we continue our April sermon series on the spiritual lessons, good and bad, that television teaches.  This week, we focus on the ways that television encourages us to accept and include people in our lives that, at first glance, do not seem to fit, but who usually offer amazing gifts and blessings (alongside some headaches too).  In fact, much of American popular culture is about acceptance -- accepting and tolerating others; accepting and tolerating ourselves.

The show that best envisions the challenges and fruits of such inclusion, at least in my mind, is the recent detective program, "Monk."  Monk was a brilliant consultant for the San Francisco police who could no longer be in active service due to his almost crippling Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.  Thanks to support, including the key acceptance of the police chief, though, Monk is allowed to share his mental gifts to solve crimes.  However, his emotional and psychological problems pose significant challenges and frustrations to those around him, including the police chief and his private nurse.  Without their help (and the help of others), Monk's nervous breakdown and OCD would keep him home, but with their help he is able to share his brilliant gifts for the community's good.

This is what we hope for in every Christian community, but too often we talk in platitudes that ignore the difficulties and obstacles that must be overcome to offer inclusion to people facing significant challenges, be they physical, emotional, financial, psychological, etc.  This was true in Jesus' day, and is the cultural context for most of his miraculous healings.  And it is certainly true in our own day, as we must strive, every day, to be Christ's church.  The sermon title, incorporating the great Beatles' hit, is "Help! (or Monk)."

April 7 Worship: "We Are Family (or Father Knows Best)"

We gathered for worship on Sunday in the continued glow of Christ's resurrection, but without all of the hoopla of Holy Week and Easter.  While many churches call this Sunday "Low Sunday" because it is usually their lowest attended Sunday service of the year (even many pastors take the day off), Eastgate did not see any such thing.

In fairness though, there was a little evidence that yours truly may have been taking the day off mentally.  After trying to get the congregation to sing the wrong opening song, I then tried to skip the first scripture reading -- fortunately, others were there to keep the ship afloat and headed in the right direction.  My most egregious mistake, though, came at the beginning of the sermon, when I spoke about the classic television show, "Father Knows Best."  I said that "Father Knows Best," like many other family shows, featured only two children -- those with a better memory, or just those who saw the cast photo on the screen, know there were three children.  All I can say is that I just don't remember Kathy, who played the youngest child.

Anyway, I do think that there is valuable material in the sermon, as we considered generally some of the lessons -- good and bad -- that we learn about family from watching so much television.  Beginning with the description of how Christians should appreciate God as a father-figure from Hebrews, we considered how some of the family imagery on TV affirms our faith, but some of it is counter to the wisdom of Christian discipleship.

If you missed Sunday's sermon, if you'd like to listen to it again, or if you'd like to share it with others (warts and all), you can find an audio recording here.

Coming Up Sunday, April 7

In April, we will spend some time thinking about how popular culture, especially television, influences how we live as Christians.  Sometimes the influences are helpful, instructive, and encouraging.  Other times, popular culture teaches Christians bad habits that get in the way of our faith.  We'll explore this in four sermons under the theme, "Everything I Need to Know About Community I Learned from TV."

As part of the pop culture fun, I've selected various classic rock songs to illustrate certain themes in the sermons.  This week, we'll be considering the lessons about the nature of family that television has taught through the years.  So this week's sermon is called, "We Are Family (or Father Knows Best)."  Whether you remember the Sister Sledge disco hit, or the old TV program starring Robert Young and Jane Wyman, you probably have some idea what issues we'll be exploring on Sunday.

Holy Week Worship Recap: "And I Saw the New Jerusalem"

During Holy Week, we gathered for worship four times over the four holiest days in the Christian calendar.  Each of the services was unique -- and I heard comments from several people who found them meaningful in different ways.  From the gathering in the upper room to the approaching darkness on Maundy Thursday, to listening to Christ's teaching from the foot of the cross, to the vigil with the celebration of God's mighty hand through history and our invitation to participate through baptism and communion, and finally to the joyous news again of Christ's resurrection on Easter morning, it was a full four days, filled with scripture, prayers, and lots of music.

Even a couple of days later, I'm still recovering a bit from all of it.  But I'm always excited by the journey of Holy Week (even if it began oddly this year with our cancelled Palm Sunday service), and it was particularly meaningful to journey with so many people at Eastgate this year, leading up to our very full sanctuary on Easter morning.  The combination of the beautiful Spring day, the bright colors, and the joy of the resurrection made Sunday morning special.

Along with the Sunday sermon recording, I will post recordings of my meditations from Maundy Thursday and the Easter Vigil.  If you missed one of these services, if you'd like to listen to the meditation/sermon again, or if you'd like to share one or all of them with others, you can find audio recordings below.

On Maundy Thursday, I reflected on Jesus' desire for three disciples to accompany him to the Garden of Gethsemane to watch and pray that fateful evening.  Why was it so important for Jesus that they come?  Spoiler alert: I think it was a personal example of his love for them -- on the day when he commanded his disciples to love one another.  You can listen to an audio recording of the meditation, "Keeping Watch," here.

During the Great Vigil of Easter, there are several scripture readings, spanning the whole history of the Bible. I chose to focus on the famous prophecy of the valley of dry bones in Ezekiel 37, and imagined what we could learn of God's promises for our past and future.  You can listen to the audio recording of the meditation, "Through the Valley, Full of Bones," here.

On Easter, I concluded on series on the Hebrews' journey from Egypt through the wilderness by considering how our Promised Land, the Kingdom of Heaven, is an altogether unexpected, new thing -- whose newness is demonstrated by the radical newness of the resurrection of Jesus.  Focusing both on Christ's resurrection and on the prophecy of the new heaven and new earth, I suggested that our ideas about heaven are all too often incompatible with God's hopes for the faithful to live as one.  You can listen to the audio recording of the sermon, "And I Saw the New Jerusalem," here.