Forigiving Yourself

 Here is my message from Sunday. The passage was the parable of the Prodigal Son

Some of you have heard this story before, but when I was in elementary school, which went through 8th grade where we lived, there was another boy in our class that we tormented mercilessly. His name was Paul, although we called him Pauline because he was, to put it bluntly, a little effeminate, and definitely not good at sports, and in a school system that prioritized athletics that was a big problem. Just as a quick reference to what that meant. I had two people from my graduating class of a little over 300 who played in the NFL. And so, we bullied him, and I went right along with it, and to be honest the teachers sort of tacitly approved of it as well as they never stopped us. He never cried at school about how he was treated, because I think he knew that would make it worse. But I assume that there were days that he went home after school and cried simply wondering why he was being tormented and what he could do to stop it. I don’t know why I went along with bullying him, because you might be surprised by remarkable athletic physique but I was not a lot higher on the social hierarchy than Paul was. But I was higher, and perhaps I did it to make sure that he would stay there and someone else would be the target rather than me.

Now I don’t know if Paul was gay, although I suspect that he was, and knowing the much higher rate at which members of the gay and lesbian community take their lives as teenagers than other teens I really wonder if he made it. He went to another high school, but I assume that the bullying continued, and one of my great fears is that he didn’t make it, and that I played a role in that. And that I should have known better, I shouldn’t have done it, because I was on the receiving end enough of it myself, but I didn’t. That is one of those things that I carry around with me that I have not yet been able to forgive myself for, because I should have been better and done more. And even 40 years later it is still there, and so today we move onto the idea of learning to forgive ourselves, which probably has been the most requested issue as have made our way through thinking and talking about how to forgive. So how do we forgive ourselves?

Resurrection: Adiction

Here is my sermon from Sunday. The text was Luke 15:11-24. To hear the testimony, please go to our Youtube page to see the video.

Today we begin a new sermon series entitled resurrections stories, looking for times in scripture in which people have been changed, but also hearing stories of resurrection from within our own congregation when possible, and so I thought it perhaps appropriate to begin with a story of resurrection of the son who was died but is now alive. The Parable of the Prodigal Son is one of the most famous parables that Jesus told, and is one, like the Good Samaritan, that has even crossed over into the secular world as people talk about prodigal sons, or daughters. But the first thing we might look at is whether that is even an appropriate title as it seems to make the story about the younger son, rather than also being about the father or the older brother, whose side of the story we left out in our reading this morning. Not something we are going to answer today, but I invite you to think about that and what changing the title might mean as we interpret this story. But, what we do need to know is the context of what is happening when Jesus tells this parable. At the beginning of chapter 15, we are told “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to [Jesus]. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” (15:1-2) so that tells us about whom Jesus is focusing on, and who the parables that follow are told to and about.  And then begins with the parables of the lost coin and the lost sheep, where the owners go out and seek to find the lost item and then celebrate for having recovered the one who was lost but is now found, and Jesus says so too is it for those in heaven who rejoice at the one who repents.

And then he begins the parable of the prodigal son, and we know something is wrong right from the start because of the demand made by the younger son, which is to receive his part of his inheritance. What he is basically saying to his father with this request is “I wish you were dead.” It’s clear that this request is not only unusual, but also disrespectful. In fact, a literal translation is of the father’s response is that he divided his life between them. This is the first of many broken relationships that are represented in this story. But for whatever reason, the father gives into his son’s demands, and the son takes what he receives, cashes it all in and then goes off to another land, a gentile land as it turns out, and squanders his money in dissolute living. It’s not clear what this means here, and perhaps it’s intentionally vague. Later, we will hear from the older brother who objects to his father treating his brother so well, that he has squandered the money on prostitutes, although its not clear how the brother would know this information. But the Greek word used here for dissolute living, is used three other times in the New Testament. One time it is related to drunkenness, the second is to rebelliousness and the third is to debauchery, which is a great word because it sounds dirty but you’re not really sure what’s going on. But whatever it is the son is doing, it’s not good, and he wastes all his money at it, and then a famine strikes the land, which only makes his situation worse. To try and survive, the son then finds himself having to work with pigs, which, according to Jewish laws, is an abomination in the eyes of God, although for some reason when Christians talk about abominations this one is left off the list. He is so hungry that he finds himself wanting to eat what the pigs are eating, and unlike his request to his father, no one will give him any assistance, but it reminds us that in dissolute living, we end up doing things that we never imagined we would do.

Opening Ceremony: Celebration

Here is my sermon from Sunday. The text was Philippians 4:4-9:

For the next two weeks, a large majority of the world is going to have their eyes turned towards Rio and the Olympic games taking place there.  This is the first time the Olympics have been held in south America, which is like America, but south, and also the first time the summer games have been held in the winter. And so I thought it might be a good time for us to turn our eyes to the idea of sport, and Olympic sport in particular, of what it can teach us about our faith, or how we might apply what we see in the games to our faith.  Now this idea is not really as far off as it might seem, because, in fact, there are several different illusions to sport to be found in scripture. Jacob wrestles with God, something we will grapple with next week. Moses served in the courts of the Pharaoh, so there is tennis, and of course baseball, the greatest sport, is mentioned twice when we are told that God did things in the big inning.  But on a more serious note, we do see this specifically in the writings of Paul.  While we are much more familiar with the ancient Olympic games, which also took place every four years, they were not the only games taking place in the ancient world.  There were also the Isthmian games which were held the year before and the year after the Olympic games. The Isthmian games were named after their location, which was on the isthmus of Corinth, a city in which Paul spent plenty of time.  And so when we hear him say to the Corinthians, run the race before you, that is not just some generic statement, he is making a reference to an activity with which they would have been very familiar.  So as Paul used the games for his illustrations of living a Christian life, so we too are going to use the games for the same purpose, and we’re going to begin with where the Olympics begin and that is with the opening ceremonies.

Now I am aware that there were actually some games that started even before the opening ceremonies started on Friday night, but that is really seen as the kick-off, the beginning of the Olympics. It draws the largest number of people both in terms of participants who will be there, but also in drawing the highest television ratings of any of the events that will take place at the Olympics. Consider that for a moment. The biggest event, the biggest celebration, the thing everyone wants to attend and to watch is not the celebration at the end, but instead a celebration at the beginning. A celebration to begin things. That’s sort of the opposite of how we normally do things. We normally have a party at the end of events as a celebration that it’s all over and to celebrate what was accomplished. I was trying to come up with some other things that we celebrate before they actually begin. I think the first would be Christmas, which we celebrate on the 25th of December and then act as if Christmas is over, when really it’s only just begun as it runs for another 11 days. But I think that’s more out of ignorance than an intentionality of celebrating at the start. There are New Year’s Eve celebrations, but those really end with the stroke of midnight, so we’re celebrating the start of something, but also, and maybe to a larger degree it’s the saying good-bye, and perhaps good-riddance, to the prior year.  We celebrate ground breaking for new buildings, but those usually still pale in comparison to dedication celebrations.  There are baby showers, celebrations before the baby comes, but I think that’s because new parents need the items to be ready, and also we know they will be too exhausted to do anything after the baby comes. There are bachelor and bachelorette parties, but that’s more to mourn the loss of singleness to a degree, then to actually celebrate the wedding. Perhaps the wedding itself is one area where we truly celebrate an event when it begins, to kick off the marriage rather than celebrating some other time.  But again, that is by far the exception to the rule. Is there some other event I’m missing where the celebration at the beginning is bigger than the celebration at the end, or at least the same?

We Had To Celebrate

Here is my sermon from Sunday.  The text was Luke 15:11-32:

On the day that Pope John Paul II died, he was greeted at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter, and is told that he has complete access to heaven and can go anywhere anytime that he likes, but first that God would like to meet him.  John Paul said he would love to do that, but wanted to know if heaven had a library.  Peter said, “Well of course,” and John Paul said “well there is something that I have been puzzling over for a long time and could never find a satisfactory answer in the Vatican’s archives, and so I wonder, before I go a meet God, could I go to the library first?” “Of course,” St. Peter replies, and so they head off to the library.  The Pope spends two years in solitary research, never coming out, never interacting with anyone else, and then one day, people hear a cry of anguish coming from one of the study tables.  When people rush over they find the Pope there, with a large book in front of him pointing to one line and crying out “there’s an r! There’s an r!  Look, there’s an r.  It says is celebrate not celibate!”

Today we continue in our series on the spiritual disciplines by looking at the discipline of celebration.  The two words, discipline and celebration, don’t really seem like they go together, after all that appears why some people aren’t having a lot of fun, or celebrating much, because they are being disciplined.  But celebration is a discipline because it is something we have to decision about; we have to choose to be joyful and to choose to celebrate.  In Richard Foster’s book, Celebration of Discipline, he has celebration as the last item that he talks about because he says that all of the other disciplines put us in such relationship with God that they lead us directly to the practice of celebration, of making a joyful noise to the Lord as Psalm 98 and 100 both say.  And so as I was putting together this series, I originally had celebration as the last topic, which would then lead us into the celebration at the beginning of the service for Palm Sunday.  But today, the fourth Sunday of Lent, has some significance in the tradition and history of the church.

Forgiveness: Forgiving Yourself

Here is my sermon from Sunday.  The text was Luke 15:11-32:

Some of you have already heard this story before, but when I was growing up there was a kid who attended my elementary school whose name was Paul, although we called him Pauline, and we hounded him unmercilessly.  I don’t know why I did it, maybe because everyone else was, or maybe because, and this will come as a surprise because of my incredible athletic build, but maybe I did it so that I could eliminate some of the teasing I received.  But whatever the reason I teased him, or to be honest, bullied him right along with everyone else for being different, for not being a real boy.  Now I don’t know whether Paul was gay or not, although I strongly suspect that he was, and knowing the elevated rate at which gay and lesbian teenagers commit suicide, I wonder if it made it.  But today as we talk about forgiving ourselves, this is one of the things that I carry around with me that I can’t let go of even nearly 30 years later

Most of us have something like that we carry around, that not only might we need to receive forgiveness from someone else, but that we also need to forgive ourselves.  Comedian Bill Crystal recounts that the last words he ever said to his father to shut-up, and his father’s last words to him were “don’t you ever say that to me again.”  Little did either of them know that Crystal’s father would have a heart attack and die that night.  How do you let go of that?  Or perhaps it’s guilt for what we did or didn’t do.  Joe lost his 6 year-old son in a household accident which he was unable to prevent, even though he was there, and he is wracked with guilt and grief especially remembering his son crying out his last word of “Daddy!”  and he is obsessed with the what ifs. How do we forgive ourselves for the guilt that we carry around?  Or really more to the point, how do we claim the forgiveness that God has offered to us?