By now, the podium for the Olympic medal ceremony is quite familiar. As triumphant music plays, the winner of the bronze medal is introduced, then the silver medalist, and then finally, the gold medalist steps up, the crowd especially raucous when it is a Canadian gold medalist. Athletes spend years of their lives, training for this moment to stand at the top of the podium with (hopefully) the gold medal of your chosen sport hanging around your neck. 

The medal are placed around the Olympian’s neck, a small bundle of flowers is handed over with a quick handshake or hug from an Olympic official.  Then, as the three flags of the victors’ home nations are raised, the crowds cheer and the tears flow as the gold medalist mouths the words to their national anthem.

            It’s rather timely for us to hear Paul’s epistle to the Philippians.  He writes, “Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved.”  Here, Paul uses language and imagery from a sporting contest.  The language of “joy and crown” harkens to the victor celebrating after some sort of race or feat of strength. Just as an athlete spends many years of training and dedication, so Paul imagines the Christian believer as one who willingly takes on the challenges and endures to the victorious end.

The “sports” language is found elsewhere in the New Testament.  Evoking the “heroes” of the faith, the book of Hebrews offers the reader this goal:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, ²looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.  (Hebrews 12:1-3)

 For these two New Testament writers, the end goal is quite remarkable. For the book of Hebrews, one lives by the example set by Christ and the saints that have gone before us.  For the epistle to the Philippians, Paul calls us to believe in and live the ways of Christ, the one who journeyed through this life, knew its failings and vulnerability yet persevered.  We let Christ’s witness shape our lives, taking on the same values of humility, vulnerability, and servanthood. 

In this passage, Paul encourages his reader to imitate his life, holding his own story up as one shaped by Christ.  To imitate another might sound a bit pious at first on Paul’s part, but he is offering his life as an example to the reader.  Paul has been through a great deal of change in his life. He has known persecution and hardship for his belief. Despite all of the challenges, Paul sees his life most clearly through the prism of his faith in Christ.  Whatever has happened along the way, Paul knows that Christ has been with him.  He encourages his reader to imitate him, for Paul only imitates himself, pointing not to the self but to the Christ.

In a few weeks, we’ll be celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day, which admittedly has become less about the “saint” himself.  As for Patrick, he had a profound understanding of living out his life in way that never forgot Christ’s influence in all parts of life.  In his famous prayer, Patrick speaks of Christ ever present:

Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, and in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

In Paul’s letter, he derides persons who have made the choice to live as they see fit, taking no heed to the witness of Christ.  I appreciate his admonition to live for Christ, not the self. Reading this text alongside persons of other religious traditions, I would imagine there would be some general agreements that faith traditions often move in ways contrary to secular societal norms.  Paul’s concern we live with a world that thinks too often with its belly or only of itself would get a hearty “amen” from an interfaith gathering.  I would caution that this passage could be read as “us Christians” vs. the rest of the world, if we are not careful in our interpretation. 

For Paul’s original audience, he is addressing a group of Christians living in a colony of the Roman Empire.  The church is living under the Romans, whose ways might rule the world for now but go in the ways that most Empires go:  the more power, the more control, the more decadent and corrupt.   Paul reminds the Philippians that they are Christians first, citizens of the “kingdom” of heaven, the reign of God.  Caesar claimed godhood, the Roman Empire claimed the world, yet Paul writes to the Philippians telling them to place their trust in Christ.  Earlier in this epistle, Paul weaves into his writing words from what is thought to be an early Christian hymn:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, ⁶who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, ⁷but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, ⁸he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. ⁹Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, ¹⁰so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, ¹¹and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

For Paul, Christ is the one who we should imitate.  Christ is the One whose life, death, and resurrection provide a pattern for our lives. Keeping Christ before us, ahead of us, and around us is what shapes our lives.  In the language of the Christian faith, the term for this sort of life is called a “cruciform” life.  Cruciform means “cross-shaped”, which is typically a word used in religious architecture.  In the history of western Christianity, it became quite popular to build churches in the shape of a cross.  (The bulletin cover gives you a glimpse of such a design layout.)

Paul goes beyond the crosses we hang on the wall or around our necks, beyond the cross-shaped buildings that people gather in for worship.  Paul asks the believer where his or her truest beliefs and loyalties are given.  Is it in the world or the empire, the belly or the ego?  Or is it in the hope and trust we find in Christ Jesus?

A few years back, I read a wonderful column by historian and writer Martin E. Marty.  Dr. Marty is a life-long Lutheran, and he offers his reader glimpses into his deep and abiding love for Martin Luther and the tradition that followed.  Marty notes that one of his faith practices has been life-long as well as quite simple in its ritual.  Marty follows Luther’s teaching that daily and evening prayers begin with making the sign of the cross, offering prayers, and a time for devotional reading.  At his waking and at his sleeping, Marty makes the sign of the cross across the length and width of his body, marking his whole person with the sign of the cross.

After morning prayers, Luther suggests one “go to your work with joy, singing a hymn, as the Ten Commandments, or what your devotion may suggest.”  And at night, one is to pray and then get ready for bed.  Luther concludes, “Then go to sleep promptly and cheerfully.” 

At first glance, Luther’s suggestion for devotions at day’s beginning and night’s ending might strike us as a little too pietistic or out of touch.  After all, life does not necessarily lend itself to happy days or feeling that cheerful when bedding down for the night.  Nonetheless, Paul sees a thread of hope woven through his life, a way forward through worldly ways.  He calls us to seek the same path, to live lives patterned after Christ. Paul dreams of his readers joining him at the end of the race called life, living with “joy and crown” for life lived well, standing firm in the Lord.

Of late, I have been going to my bookshelf and reading books that I picked up at one time or another (usually with the recommendation of a friend or strong review in some journal that I read).  I am working my way through the book The Solace of Fierce Landscapes, written by Belden Lane.  Lane offers some fine reflections on Christian spirituality, interspersing stories drawn from his own life.  At first glance, the two types of stories he shares seem a bit distant.  One strand of narrative involves the act of being on pilgrimage.  The other strand revolves around our mortality, particularly through Lane’s memories of sitting at his dying mother’s bedside.  Lane weaves these two strands together: pilgrimage and mortality, helping his reader with some sage thoughts about faith, life, and those things that often distract us from the way of following Christ.

At various points of the book, he shares reflections of persons traveling (himself included) to remote places in the world to experience some form of spiritual pilgrimage.  These journeys take you far from places visited by the average tourist, out into the places that most of us would term inhospitable or lonely.  Out into the desert or somewhere in the mountain range, Belden Lane observes one is confronted with the vastness of the wilderness.  Along the way, the pilgrim traveler encounters glimpses of the divine, often in ways difficult to predict or anticipate.  In such places, “the divine preference for self-disclosure in space is declared to be an austere, deserted, feral terrain” (The Solace of Fierce Landscapes, p. 47). 

For centuries, various Christian individuals and religious orders withdraw intentionally away, seeking God in places less urbanized or developed.  In our Baptist traditions, we rarely speak of withdrawing away from things.  We tend to be a fairly noisy, “in the midst of the fray” kind of Protestant people.  Thus, the stories of monastic movements in the history of Christianity tend not to be history we rehearse and recall. Nonetheless, in reading of such history, I suspicion you and I might find something we have longed for and appreciate: a deepening sense of God’s presence in the world and our lives.  We yearn, even when unaware, for something more to our lives than the hectic, near chaotic pace of work, keeping up a household, raising children, tending elders, dealing with our bills, and wondering where the day has gone by the time we finally feel like it is “safe” to unwind, and the clock says “10 PM”. 

Now that you mention it, a trip to somewhere where you can be alone sounds quite appealing….

            Off in the lonely places, Jesus lived for forty days. One might think this a bit of a letdown after the great celebration just beforehand.  Read the gospel again, and the opening chapters of Luke are one big celebration of Jesus.  The Nativity story of Luke resounds with songs of praise.  At his baptism, Jesus is proclaimed as the one greater than John the Baptist.  The voice of God comes from heaven above, declaring Jesus the divine and beloved Son.  The Spirit descends upon him. And just for extra measure to establish Jesus’ credentials, Luke’s gospel inserts a genealogy after the baptism, showing Jesus’ worthy ancestors.  So why does the gospel writer tell this story of Jesus out in the wilderness?   Just as the story builds up steam, Luke has Jesus take forty days away.

Beyond the biblical narrative, why would a time of withdrawal make sense when everything’s pointing toward success?  A reader versed with the financial or political world would be confused by this story.  Why does Jesus go off far away?  He’s just been proclaimed to have the right pedigree, the best resume, and even the “Big Boss” giving a good word.  Jesus gets all of this glory, and what’s he do?  He heads out to….nowhere.

Out in the desert, Jesus spent time withdrawn from people and the basic comforts, if not needs, of life.  He endures out in the midst of a place not for the faint of heart, making John the Baptist’s frugal existence of hair shirts and locusts with honey look positively opulent.  Luke’s telling of the story has Jesus out there for forty days, echoing another era of the Bible as Israel wanders in the wilderness for forty years.  When the Devil shows up, this is the first time Jesus has encountered somebody else for forty days.  I imagine Jesus, quite weary from the relative lack of sleep, fluids, and food, wondering at first if he is hallucinating this figure standing before him.  The first temptation alone (turn stones into bread) would bend, if not break, many of us right off, after three plus weeks away from a decent meal.

The gospels tell this story as a way of demonstrating Jesus’ commitment and obedience to God.  Do not gloss over Luke’s especial emphasis to the forty-day period, for it evidences the sort of discipline Jesus undertakes.  The forty days are just as difficult as the temptations to follow.  Withdrawing to be alone, voluntarily taking leave of one’s comforts is a hard decision to keep, let alone make.  What happens out in those remote places in the desert or in the mountains might be unsettling, far more than losing the assurances of three meals a day and a decent bed at night. 

In our day, Belden Lane observes, “Wild places are uncompanionable to the qualmish, to those compulsively anxious to please.” (The Solace of Fierce Landscapes, p. 43) A wilderness experience allows a person to see without distraction the things that keep us from living more fully or obscure our devotion to God.  Lane reminds us of Saint Jerome, a third-century Christian, who said, “The desert loves to strip bare” (p. 23). 

Withdrawing allows one to focus, “strip[ping] bare” who we are and what we presume is most important or pressing in our lives.  After forty days and forty nights, Jesus is weak in his physical deprivations, yet as it is said, that which challenges strengthens.  He is offered three temptations that have increasing degrees of enticement:  food to eat, power over the world, and finally to challenge God for power.  Each temptation challenges Jesus to exercise his power, to take the easier path.  Jesus refuses each one, which again, by the general measure of the world, would be increasingly foolish.  “If you have power, use it!” the world would say.  Jesus could have done any of these three things, yet he did not.  Jesus not only refuses, he refutes the very thought of being tempted to stray from God’s ways.

In the forty-day period away, Jesus experienced the fruitfulness of the wilderness.  He claims his authority in its proper use and understanding.  Throughout the Gospel of Luke, Jesus is said to live and minister by an authority that is from God, not derived by his own devising or grasping.  Jesus will minister to those whom society and religion alike have deemed lesser people.  Jesus speaks truth to the powers of Empire and Temple.

The opposite of the Devil, the one who has fallen from the heavens above, Jesus remains grounded in his radical trust of God.  Jesus will derive his authority from God, not by any means necessary.  The desert has stripped him bare, just as surely as the desert would any of the rest of us.  In his sojourn among the fierce landscape, Jesus emerges resolved in his faithfulness and goes onward to live out this calling to proclaim the Kingdom of God at hand.  Rather than draining him, the desert experience nourishes him.

In turn, this story becomes a challenge and an invitation to the reader. For the gospel writers, the story of Jesus in the wilderness and the temptations that test him also serve as stories to challenge the disciple.  While we might never climb a mountain or travel far across a desert, the fierce landscapes still await us in the midst of our lives.  We need times away to be stripped down, to face our issues and to examine ourselves before God.  The “fierce landscape” may come in that day spent away from work, clearing your head while letting the noise of life drift off.  The “fierce landscape” may be the time as Belden Lane discovered, while sitting in an anti-septic smelling hospital room, keeping vigil and companionship with a loved one as they die. 

The fierce landscape, whether desert or mountain, is that place where you feel pared down, made to take a hard look at who you really are and whether or not God is there in the midst of your life.  You will know these times for their fierceness, the way they make you feel apart or adrift.  Yet in that ferocity, the journey will be well worth it, strengthening you as surely as it challenges.  As Belden Lane reminds,

In early Christian tradition, the desert was perceived ambiguously, usually as an unfriendly, intimidating domain; but for those able to endure its purifying adversity, an image also of paradise.  If desert terrors can be sustained as the self is laid bare under its harsh scrutiny, dry land becomes an avenue of hope (Lane, p. 43).

      Did you read the title of this morning’s sermon?  I suspicion once you read it, it got you thinking, not so much about 1 Corinthians or Pauline theolgoy.  Rather, I would imagine many of us read that sermon title and then commenced musing or perhaps stewing over what the sermon title brought to mind.

      The title of today’s sermon:  The Body You Always Wanted. 

      Stand in front of a mirror long enough and each of us will start fussing over something that you think is less than attractive or desired.  It is alright to feel that way.  It is part of being human: that wonder of your parents’ DNA, two different strands of genetics, intertwining together to give you big ears or a firm jaw line, delicate fingers or stubby toes, the right shade of blue eye color, or big frizzy hair to keep up with (or if so genetically inclined, hair that you fight to keep).  Everybody has something about their body that they wish was otherwise.  It’s part of being human.

      “The Body You Always Wanted.”  Call a diet book or an exercise DVD or a reality show by this title, and you’ve already made a tidy sum.  We Americans drop quite a bit of money on diet programs purporting to help us lose weight by sometimes the oddest methods.  We hang on the words of the “health guru” of the moment. Richard Simmons still teaches classes in Los Angeles to his devoted fans, complete with those spangled sparkly short-shorts.  Simmons is among the few multi-millionaire diet kings, who emphasize the inescapable work that goes along with his methods.  Most of us do not want such candor.  We would love to miss the fine print that we would prefer not to read: “This diet does not work alone and must be balanced with exercise.”

      So we stand there at the mirror, fussing over the third chin, the eyebrows that just cannot be tamed, and last but not least, wonder whether or not we can pull off another year of saying, “Oh, me? I’m 29…forever!”

     In the epistle reading today, we encounter a familiar teaching about the nature of the Church.  Calling the body of believers “the body of Christ”, Paul uses the metaphor of the human form, detailing various parts of the human body and says none of them are non-essential.  Every single part of the body is of use and importance.  This language is quite winsome calling the Christians gathered together to remember we are all on common ground, one in Christ Jesus.

     This lofty ideal is given to a church on the ropes, the Church at Corinth. You do not help figuring out this epistle is written to people in conflict.  The members are nearly at each other’s throats.  The fellowship faded away.  Old scores were being settled. Chairs were being likely thrown.  And worst of all, some folks were cutting in line at the church potluck!  

     Paul was called in as a long-distance interventionist, a wise leader who could be trusted by all sides to have a good word.  Essentially, the tone of the Corinthian correspondence is like this:  Want to be “the Church”?  You’ve got to work out your differences and build up your life together.  Corinthians: rise up above your squabbles and be one in Christ!

      We present-day Christians read these first century words between Paul and the Corinthians and other early Christians, and essentially, it’s a bit like reading other people’s mail.  The first century is now long distant, but my, my, the words Paul imparts!  The church is one.  The church is many.  The church is united in Christ. 

What a marvelous vision!   What good theology!   What a challenge to live it out!           

      Despite being two millennia old now, Paul’s writings serve us well, especially when you apply these lessons to the body of believers you know best.  How does our congregation measure up when we look at ourselves in the mirror? 

      What does it mean to be together?  Will we ever be satisfied with our appearance?  Do we secretly long we looked like something other than ourselves?

     For the Corinthian Christians, Paul’s words are needed.  There are some in the Corinthian fellowship who claim pride of place by virtue of their spiritual gifts or their status in the church of society.  Persons who speak in tongues claim greatness. Those who are wealthy muscle out those who are weaker for the best places at the table.  Persons claim prominence, based on criteria of their own devising.  As for Paul, he claims each and every person has equal worth.  No matter who you think you are, no matter who others tell you that you are, the Body of Christ is the place where all are one, not on our terms, but on that of Christ. 

      When somebody asks me how many people belong to First Baptist, I give the number of over sixty adults and nearly a dozen children.  I claim this number with pride, as this number, though smaller than our general membership roll (we claim “260” by virtue of baptism and transfer of letter) represents the people who have declared a vested interest in our fellowship continuing onwards.  You are a remarkable group of people, and the annual report reflects the fruitfulness of your intentional investment in the life of this fellowship. 

      Deep down, though, we find ourselves looking in the mirror and ask what we would like to change about our congregation’s “body” or what we wish was otherwise.  Any church inevitably finds itself musing and perhaps frittering over the church we always wanted.  What will it take to feel attractive?

     What makes us feel a bit uneasy or unsettling when we look at ourselves in the mirror?  Books, DVDs, and media-savvy preachers (with the best hair, teeth, and makeup this side of Hollywood) give us an impression that you have to look “just right” to be relevant.  Are we still beautiful, even if we glimpse a wrinkle or two in the mirror or quietly wish something about our body could be changed or excised? 

    As Paul says elsewhere, one faith, one baptism, one Lord is our identity and our goal.   We are called to be one in Christ.  We tend to obsess about what is wrong or what should be changed so that we can somehow become better.  The New Testament claims that we are already one, the many diverse and gifted, drawn together by the Cross.  Paul indicates the gifts of the Spirit are many, and instead of trying to claim one is greater than the other, or worry the Church is always under some sort of drought, we should realize God has given us what we need. 

     When he hears of a church where some think they are “perfect” or “gifted” and believe so at the expense of others, Paul calls his readers to honor all the gifts, all the people, for they are all one in Christ’s body, all are gifted by the Spirit, all are treasured by God. To be part of the Body of Christ is to be part of the whole, the many who are also one. 

      God has given us one another for the sake of Christ and the Church.  Each of us has something to give to the Body.  Not one of us is expendable or inferior.  All persons and all gifts, properly understood, are for the common good among us.

       We use our gifts not for individual benefit or glory.  We offer ourselves and our abilities, no matter how great or small they might seem, so that all might benefit in our contributions.  When we yearn for a more perfect Church, the “Body of Christ” we have always wanted, we ask ourselves, how are we doing serving one another?  Are our gifts given freely and with due humility?  Scholar Paul Minear wisely says Paul’s measure of a gift’s worth is found in its use and user’s intentions.  Do we offer our giftedness for the “upbuilding, encouragement, and consolation” of the Church? (Images of the Church in the New Testament, Westminster Press, 1960, p. 193).  Just like the flashy diets or the latest face cream claiming to make you look years younger, reality still trumps.   You cannot build up the Church by focusing only on the things you want or prefer as outcomes.  It takes every single part working together to build up the Body.

            These past few years at First Baptist have been a time to pull together and make “big picture” decisions for our common good.  When I first met you in January 2006 as an interviewee for the intentional interim minister’s position, you were tired from a difficult past, but hopeful for a different, brighter future.  In September 2005, you voted to start a new path, though admittedly, no one had the proverbial “crystal ball” to guide where things should go next.  No clear ideas were on the table however your willingness to explore possibility was in itself a mile maker for the journey ahead.  You made a tremendous first step in faith saying we need to change.  Some churches have closed their doors still waiting for members to say this important word to one another. 

            Today, you will consider accepting the reports of the church boards, the proposed 2010 budget, and the nominating committee report we share a different story in January 2010.  We may not be a hundred or two on Sunday mornings, but we have made important decisions that have amplified our mission and ministry in this community.  Instead of “where’s that?” when people mention First Baptist, the word on the street is becoming, “Oh, that’s the busy church.”  How did this happen?

            Paul’s writings would claim it was the work of the Spirit in our midst.  The collaboration and partnerships that are happening in the community with First Baptist at the fore happen because collaboration and partnerships are happening within our fellowship.  People are more engaged in our congregational governance and “big picture” questions are being wrestled with successfully.  The many are one in Christ.  In a congregation great or small, things are healthy and at their best when the many are giving their diverse gifts for the common good.

       You have chosen to be the Body of Christ, by being aware of what a body needs.  Rather than embracing the view that we are “too far gone to change”, we have been taking bold steps towards our short and long term wellbeing.  It’s almost as if we’ve started looking at our body less as something to feel inferior or vain about.  In fact, we are taking good care of ourselves. 

      Nonetheless, we have to keep working at it.  We are never “finished” in tending the wellbeing of a congregation’s heart and soul.  It’s a bit like what your doctor would advise at the annual physical.  To stay healthy, the body needs exercise, the right diet, and all of its parts working together.  Indeed, we are getting a better prognosis:

***Exercise (we’re talking more about what it takes to be Church together—our annual meetings are becoming part of an ongoing conversation, not just a ho-hum event that seems a bit like jury duty with spreadsheets.  We tell our story, affirm our future, ask questions about what will improve our ministry, and then, we eat good food, some of which our doctor would prefer us not to eat…);

***the right diet (we are exercising more oversight and strategic planning.  Our organization is becoming more structured and efficient.),

***and all of its parts working together.  (Without a doubt, each and every person who chooses to be part of this gathered people is essential and equal here. You have a voice, you have gifts, and thanks be to God, we are endeavoring to use all of our gifts and ourselves to build up the common good in our midst.  We are all gifted people, different yet united.)

       Look in the mirror, First Baptist.  Now, you might still spot things you wish you could change, but is it me, or are you looking pretty good? Despite being 183 years old, I think we could even pass for 157.

Interfaith Efforts to Help Haitians

The Rev. Jerrod H. Hugenot

            It can be unsettling to watch the 11 PM newscast, with the stories of Haiti’s struggle to deal with the after-effects of its recent earthquake.  The images flicker across the screen, drawing the world into age-old questions of suffering, the randomness of the world’s chaotic nature.  For some faith traditions, persons ponder questions of divine presence or absence when a major disaster strikes. 

            While we wrestle with the “why?” questions, the international efforts to coordinate disaster relief and humanitarian aid speak volumes to the good humanity can bring about in troubling times.  The same newscasts now turn to the stories of supplies and personnel being sent to coordinate care, admittedly with the inevitable concerns that not enough is getting where it is most critically needed.  Email and social networking sites bring stories otherwise unreported, sometimes of a loved one’s whereabouts, sometimes vignettes of the struggle at hand to find adequate food, medical help, and shelter.  The global village is pitching in right now, though I hear Newsweek editor Jon Meacham’s lament the U.S. has tended to care about Haiti, one of the world’s most economically challenged nations not that faraway from our mainland, only when “something really, really miserable happens there.”

            Locally, the stories of Haiti relief are remarkable. The Banner has covered a number of wonderful efforts by individuals and organizations in town. A Haitian living in the area remarked to me that the efforts are inspiring, a reflection of the human spirit at its best. 

            For local congregations, the Haitian earthquake has created a variety of responses.  I contacted fellow representatives of the Greater Bennington Area Interfaith Council to learn how their faith communities have gotten involved in the efforts.  For some congregations, Haiti is home to established programs and personnel underwritten by denominational and ecumenical agencies.  For others, this might be the first direct connection a local congregation has made with short or long-term aid and support efforts.

            Rabbi Joshua Boettiger notes Congregation Beth El is providing assistance through the American Jewish World Service (www.ajws.org).  The organization has established a Haiti Earthquake Relief Fund.  Direct donations to AJWS can be made online.

            Congregants of the First Baptist Church (ABC/USA) and the Second Congregational Church (UCC), both of Bennington, are sending funds through “One Great Hour of Sharing”, an ecumenical effort to support humanitarian aid, administered through their respective denominational offices and the ecumenical Church World Service.

The Rev. Mary Lee-Clark also notes the public is invited to help with creating “health and hygiene kits” for distribution by the Church World Service (www.churchworldservice.org).  The kits are simple to create.  In an one-gallon Ziploc bag, place one wide tooth comb, a hand towel, a washcloth, six band-aids, a toothbrush still in its packaging, a pair of nail clippers, and $2 for processing.  Persons can also donate money for kits.  Make any financial donations to “Second Congregational Church” with “Haiti relief” or “CWS Kit Postage” in the memo lines.

The Rev. Dr. Anita Schell-Lambert, rector of St. Peter's Episcopal Church, notes her parish, “has adopted a twofold response to the crisis in Haiti.  First, PRAY: Hold all of the people of Haiti, and all those with friends and loved ones in Haiti, in your prayers and secondly, GIVE: The most immediate thing Americans can do is give to the relief effort.”

Dr. Schell-Lambert notes, “Episcopal Relief & Development has disbursed emergency funding to the Diocese of Haiti to help meet critical needs such as food, water and shelter for those affected, and stands ready to support the country's ongoing recovery and rebuilding efforts in the days to come. For more information and ways to respond financially, including through the Episcopal Relief & Development, go to St.Peter's website, www.stpetersbennigntonvt.org and go to “Haiti suffers devastating earthquake.”

Many denominations receive donations throughout the year, creating a pool of money for domestic and international crisis situations.  The Bennington Friends Meeting (Quakers) notes the American Friends Service Committee has sent $100,000 already.  The Meeting’s representative Bain Davis notes the AFSC is already working on plans to help with long-term rebuilding initiatives.  Likewise, the American Baptist Churches/USA has distributed $65,000 out of its reserve funds for emergency humanitarian aid. 

Haiti is a place where U.S. religious organizations have had long established partnerships. (For example, American Baptists have worked in Haiti since 1823!)  The presence of dedicated personnel and cooperative U.S./Haitian partnerships has been quite helpful in this time of critical need.  Four long-term American Baptist missionaries assigned to Haiti for medical and educational work are coordinating medical care and humanitarian work in coordination with the Haitian Baptist Convention. Likewise, the United Church of Christ maintains ongoing efforts with Church World Service, the National Spiritual Council of Churches of Haiti, and the House of Hope.  Haitian churches across the United States, including the First French Speaking/Haitian Baptist Church of Manchester, NH, are becoming key places for Haitians to coordinate care.

The Bennington Unitarian Universalist Fellowship will be offering a Haitian dinner fundraiser.  The idea started with the UU Fellowship’s board wondering what they could do to make a difference.  On Saturday, February 6, the UU Fellowship will host the dinner, featuring a variety of Haitian foods ($15/at the door).  The proceeds will benefit Haiti Relief.  Call the UU Meetinghouse at (802) 440-9816 to reserve tickets. A Haitian Peace Quilt, handmade by a Haitian women's cooperative is also being raffled ($5/ticket) to raise additional funds. The drawing for the Peace Quilt will be held on June 15. Funds raised from the raffle will benefit both Haitian relief and UUFB social action work.

If you would like to help with donating funds or supplies via an area faith community, please do so! You will find religious organizations are often at their best when engaged in such important work. The generosity of local religious communities is well known through the common work of the Food & Fuel Fund and the support of the Bennington Free Clinic.  Likewise, when it comes to the rest of the world, our local interfaith community shares its love of neighbor with those near and far alike.

The Rev. Jerrod H. Hugenot serves as coordinating minister of the First Baptist Church of Bennington, Vermont.  To correspond:  fbpastor@sover.net

      The first sermon:  every preacher has a story about the first time standing in the pulpit, trying to keep it together.  One minister suggested the pulpit for a first time preacher ought to have a glass of water, a decent reading light to see your notes, and most important, an oxygen mask.  First time sermons can be a bit painful to deliver (and sometimes to hear), but folks know that you need to support the first-timer, smile a bit while wondering if the sermon, a valiant attempt surely, ever will come to an end.  One venerable preacher was told of another church hearing a young seminary student giving a first sermon.  He asked, “So, were there any casualties?”

      The passage from Luke is called often the first “sermon” of Jesus.  Jesus is back in the town that raised him.  Indeed, in the Greek text, Luke describes Nazareth as the place that nourished him.  Here Jesus came into his own, growing up in the midst of the people, and now they are eager to welcome him into this new calling.  As he enters the synagogue, he is welcomed as a teacher respected enough to be invited to read and interpret sacred text in the midst of the assembly. Perhaps one can imagine the assembly filled with persons beaming with pride.  This is a great day, welcoming one of our own!

Jesus reads the text and then gives what is the briefest of sermons. The response moves from silence, to puzzlement, to grumbling, to rage. For readers familiar with the gospels, the way the story ends is well known.  Those who nourished him and raised him up will try to toss him off a cliff.   (Come to think of it, my first sermon didn’t go so bad after all….)

      The crux of this story revolves around the ways one responds to Jesus’ teaching.  Jesus reads the text from Isaiah and claims the prophet’s word has been fulfilled.  The comment is made, “Is this not the son of Joseph?”

      Sometimes, going home is the hardest journey one makes.  Sometimes you feel like persons see you still as that young child, chasing after butterflies in the backyard or buzzing by on a bike on a hot summer day.  People can treat you like you’re forever the kid, the daughter or son of the folks at the end of the street, failing to recognize you or give you credit for being who you are today.  Going home sometimes feels great.  Other times, you wonder why you put yourself through it all, feeling treated as the juvenile version of yourself at best, and at worst, realizing the “you” who you have become might as well be invisible.

      The Harvard chaplain Peter Gomes recounts an experience when serving as a resident scholar at Emmanuel College in Cambridge, England.  He found the faculty reserved at first, however, he began to enjoy collegial friendship, though he notes he was “the only person of color on the premises”.  At the end of the term, he remembers one of the college staff saying, “Well, Gomes, considering your background you’ve done well here.”  Gomes notes, “Never have grace and malice been more subtly mixed and administered as they were then” (A Scandalous Gospel, p. 39).  Years later, Gomes claims empathy with Jesus when the crowd mutters, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” (i.e. the subtext of “who do you think you are?”)

      When Jesus came to speak to the hometown crowd, I would argue that he gave his teaching not seeking to cause controversy.  Admittedly, this can happen. Sometimes people show back up in town with a chip on the shoulder, ready to set those folks straight.  Garrison Keillor recounts in his novel Lake Wobegon Days of a longtime town resident nailing 95 theses to the door of the Lutheran Church.  This list included just about every aggravation he had with his fellow churchgoers and town in general.  He did not get them affixed to the church door that night, as the church was hosting the Luther League’s Halloween pizza party, and he didn’t want to be caught with list and hammer in hand.  Instead, he waited, and sent it in for the local paper to publish.  Thankfully the local editor always found some other story to cover in the newspaper…. (Cf. Keillor, p. 251ff.) 

Three of the four gospels tell variants of this story of Jesus before the Nazareth assembly.  Luke places this story up front in his gospel.  The “first sermon” is part of the introduction to Jesus and his ministry, a foretaste of what will be unfolding in the rest of the story.   Reading Luke, I suggest this passage needs to be bookmarked, to refer back as you read of Jesus’ parables, ministry, miracles, and engagements with disciples and opponents alike. If you want to understand Luke’s gospel, this text is a good touchstone to learn how to “read” Luke and understand the Jesus he proclaims. In preaching Isaiah, Jesus establishes himself in the tradition of what has gone before him especially the prophetic tradition’s affirmation God will not forget the marginalized or those who are otherwise written off.    

To side with the poor, the captive, the blind and the oppressed will not win you the victory parade through the streets of Jerusalem or Rome.  He gets into the gritty part of human existence, dealing with the hard questions of people getting exploited and those enduring hardship.  Most important, he stands upon the traditions of the sacred text, which call the faithful to look out for the most vulnerable. The gospel Jesus proclaims is one of inclusive hope.  His gospel goes against the grain of the worldview of the villagers, the powerful within the religious establishment, and the prevailing ethos of Rome.  His gospel fits within the ancient witness of the prophets before him, and like the prophets, Jesus is learning he is not welcome among his own people.  The violence of the crowd demonstrates the costliness that can come with such effort. 

The controversy revolves around Jesus’ commentary after his first remarks.  Not only does he claim his ministry will be to those otherwise forgotten, he cites scriptural narrative where even the Gentiles will be included.  Even the complete outsider shall be part of “the fulfillment” Jesus claims to have brought about. It becomes an unsettling word to consider. The question of “who’s in” and “who’s out” challenges us to be clear about our beliefs and practices.  When we say of our ministry that “all are welcome”, do we live it out?  These are questions people of faith do well to answer, though admittedly, such self-examination can go neglected or discouraged.

            A few months ago, the town of Americus, Georgia, held a ceremony celebrating local persons who made a difference in their town.  Of interest was a very posthumous recognition for a man who died in 1969.  The Baptist leader Clarence Jordan was remembered for his civil rights leadership by the town leaders, an odd turn of events, considering town officials back in Clarence’s day tried to talk him into leaving town.  They didn’t want his controversial beliefs in integration and civil rights disturbing the peace.  Forty years later, the same town that rejected Clarence Jordan gave thanks for his work.  It is a remarkable testament how times change and the determination and clarity of vision it takes to be a prophet in your own hometown.

“Today the scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Reading Luke’s story of the “first sermon”, the faithful reader is challenged to ponder what effect Jesus would have if he were the guest preacher in your own congregation.  Would he be thanked at the door or tossed out of it?  Jesus presents an ambitious vision of the gospel, the same gospel we are called to carry out.  To care for those who are vulnerable, to engage in efforts to meet basic human needs, these are signs of the gospel coming to life.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at the end of a very long day.  I had been behind the computer screen working on administrative matters for so long, I lost track of time.  I looked outside and thought it was looking fairly overcast.  Actually, it was nighttime.  I got up from my desk to head for home.  (The dog doesn’t walk herself. She does, however, take me for walks.) 

By this time of day, the free clinic had set up its waiting room space, which crowded with patients, mostly young adults hoping to see a doctor.  Just around the corner, in the fellowship hall, the church choir was in the midst of rehearsal.

As I walked through the hallway and into the fellowship, moving from the murmur of patients shooting the breeze to pass the time to the choir working on the Sunday morning anthem, I felt a bit of joy rise up above the fatigue of wading through paperwork. Some days, it seems a bit up in the air, this effort to be a missional church engaged in the community while keeping up with all of the necessary elements of congregational life. Moments like these help me make sense of “the big picture” of ministry here at First Baptist. 

As the choir sang, the patients waited for a nurse to say “Next!” I could swear I heard another voice in the mix. 

“Today the scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”