Ora et Labora

Sandwich line volunteers and clients

A sermon on 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13

“Anyone unwilling to work should not eat.” Who knew that was in the Bible? When we think of the great teachings of the Christian faith, we’re more likely to think of “Love God and your neighbor” or “Blessed are the poor in spirit” or “Nothing can separate us from the love of God.” Sometimes we mistakenly think that all the harsh, punitive, and legalistic texts of the Bible are found in the Old Testament, and that the New Testament speaks only and always of a God of grace, mercy, and niceness. But tucked away in the dusty and neglected corners of the New Testament, we find teachings that appear just as troubling as the difficult texts of the Hebrew scriptures. There it is in black and white: “anyone unwilling to work should not eat.” 

This passage comes from Second Thessalonians, a letter which may or may not be by the apostle Paul. Although the author identifies himself as Paul, in the ancient world, it was common for people to write under the name of the great thinkers whom they admired and hoped to emulate. For a Christian to write a letter that appears to be by Paul would not have been seen as dishonest or unethical – it would have been the moral equivalent of playing in a Beatles tribute band. Second Thessalonians is the most heavily disputed of the epistles which claim to be by Paul – there are solid scholarly arguments to be made either way. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll just refer to the author as Paul today. But ultimately, whether it is by Paul or by one of his followers, it is there in our Bible. It would be a mistake to try to write it off as non-Pauline and therefore unimportant just because it makes us uncomfortable. In some ways, the scriptures we struggle to make sense of are the most important to wrestle with, because they can be so easily misused. 

This very passage was being misused in the news this past May. In debates about cutting the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (more commonly known as food stamps) Representative Stephen Fincher pointed to this verse from Second Thessalonians as justification for cutting the program’s budget by $4 billion. Of course, the congressman was arguing based on the false assumption that food stamps recipients are primarily people who could be working but are not. In fact, 41% of households receiving food stamps have at least one working adult – but fulltime work at minimum wage still leaves people in poverty, and so many turn to food stamps to help stretch their paycheck. Furthermore, 76% of households receiving food stamps include at least one child, elderly person, or handicapped person. Hardly a good application for a scripture verse about those “unwilling to work”! 

But more importantly, using this verse to argue about poverty relief legislation misses the context of the verse entirely. Second Thessalonians is a short letter addressed to the Christian community in Thessalonica, which is located in modern-day Greece, a community which was founded by the Apostle Paul. Paul and the Thessalonian church believed that the second coming of Christ was imminent – they assumed that it would certainly occur during their lifetimes, and they awaited it anxiously and with great anticipation. The entirety of the letter is crafted in response to this assumption, and to the things that were happening in the community because of it. 

Given that most of the rest of the epistle deals with concerns about the return of Christ, some commentators suggest that this section about work and idleness flows from those concerns as well. Some of the Thessalonian Christians, they suggest, were so certain that Jesus was returning imminently that they stopped working – after all, what need is there to work if the world as we know is going to end and the Reign of God will begin within weeks? They wouldn’t be the last – many sects and cults in the centuries since then have asked believers to leave their lives, jobs, and families to make final preparations for the end of days. 

But, of course, Jesus did not descend from the clouds in glory, and as the weeks and months and years stretched on, commentators suggest that perhaps those early Christians turned to the church to support their material needs as they continued to watch and wait, and that the passage addresses these people. Perhaps they even saw their imposition on the community as a sign of spiritual superiority – that they were truly devoting themselves to the life of faith, rather than spending time on the mundane matters of daily life. In response to this, the epistle points back to Paul’s ministry: Paul worked as a tentmaker to support himself, even though he also declared that those who devote their lives to spreading the Gospel should receive financial support from the Christian community. If even Paul worked to support himself, the letter argues, why shouldn’t these believers? 

This passage is not addressing the question of whether nations or churches should support programs that relieve poverty – although I would argue that both Paul and Jesus believe in feeding the hungry. The passage does not address at all the question of people who are unable to work. It focuses on the internal workings of the Christian community, calling for a community where everyone cares for their own needs and contributes to the needs of the community as they are able. Our seminary intern Stephen noted in our conversation this week that the word “work” need not refer specifically to employment as we understand it – “work” could refer also to the work of the community, the work of parenting, the work of ministering to the wider world. 

In the sixth century, a great saint of the church named Benedict fleshed out a vision of a community of faith working together in a text which we now know as the Rule of St. Benedict. Christianity was taking a new turn, as some people began to form monasteries, organized Christian communities separate from the rest of the secular world, to live out their faith. Benedict founded several such monasteries, and crafted the Rule to guide those communities. The Rule calls all members of the community to “ora et labora,” or prayer and work. Benedict offers guidelines for balancing work and prayer: at certain hours of the day, the entire community is to engage in the work that keeps the monastery going, tending gardens, working in the kitchens, and so forth. Those with special skills can be set to specialized tasks, but only if it does not lead them to feel superior and haughty toward those without special skills. And those who are ill, infirm, very old or very young should be given work that neither leaves them idle nor wearied by the strain of hard labor. I like to think that, although the language of Second Thessalonians is shockingly harsh, its intention is to point toward this kind of vision of a community living and working and praying together. 

For many years, our church has offered a sandwich line for hungry people, a ministry that we cosponsor with our Catholic brothers and sisters from the Franciscan Community Center. For years, the sandwich line took place outdoors: dozens of people, many of them elderly and physically impaired, would line up outside the church, waiting for waiting for almost an hour in the cold or the heat or the rain for a bag lunch. About a year ago, we made a big change: we opened our doors, set up chairs in the basement, brewed an enormous urn of coffee, and moved our sandwich line inside. We weren’t sure we would be able to manage it, because we knew it would be a lot more work. But something amazing happened: when there was good work to be done, people were excited to do it. Our team of volunteers grew and is growing, and more importantly, the sandwich line clients themselves help out as they are able. Some of the able-bodied folks help us to put the chairs away. People bring cups of coffee to the frailest, like Felicia, who will turn 92 this Wednesday. When there’s an announcement to be made, one of our bilingual clients helps us by translating into Spanish. When the elevator broke, one woman took it upon herself to care for the people who couldn’t make it down the stairs, carrying pastries and sandwiches up the stairs to them, making sure they felt included. 

When I hear a congressman justify cutting food stamps with the words “anyone unwilling to work should not eat,” I wish I could show him our sandwich line: the sense of community, the willing hands, the people caring for another; the very people he dismisses as lazy, working together to create an oasis of grace and mutuality in an unjust world. 

So I don’t mean to make excuses for Paul. But the more I think about it, the more I think I understand where he was coming from: frustrated at the failings of human communities, he admonishes them in the hope of motivating them to move toward a vision of a different way of living. A way where willing hands offer what they have to strengthen the church. A way where holy purpose shapes the community and its members in their living and their giving. A way where those who know the grace and love of God pour that grace out into the world. 

Thanks be to God. 

Amen.

The Care and Keeping of Your Pastor

A Charge to the Congregations on the Ordination of my Friends

 Last Sunday, I had the honor of being asked to share a charge to the congregations at the ordination service of two of my dear friends, J. and T.  I first met both of these women at seminary, where I was finishing my M.Div. the same year they started theirs.  Our friendships formed the next year, when we were in an internship program at the same church -- the church where, two years later, their ordination service was held.  

What a joy it was to celebrate with them! Their ministries will surely be a blessing to the congregations they serve, to the United Church of Christ, and to the world.  Here is the charge I offered to their two congregations:

First Church and South Church, you have discerned God’s call to your community to be pastored by J. and by T., and you have answered. It was a bold decision and a good decision. May God richly bless your ministries together. 

Congregations, whether you are welcoming J. as your new pastor, or continuing with T. as your Associate Pastor, my first charge to you is this: Honor her ministry. 

She loves your church. She has studied and trained and worked in preparation to pastor a church – your church – well. She prays for you, and she dreams about God’s vision for you, and when she meets me for lunch on her day off, we talk about how each of us can best minister to our congregation – how she can best minister to you. So honor her ministry by trusting her. Trust her when she wants to try something new, something that pushes you out of your comfort zone, something that really isn’t your thing at all, maybe even something that doesn’t go very well. And remember that if she doesn’t occasionally try something that doesn’t go well, she probably should be more adventurous with you. 

Honor her ministry by telling her the truth when you disagree with her, and by respecting her when she disagrees with you. 

Honor her ministry by remembering that a great deal of her ministry will be invisible to you, and that some of the very best pastoring she does, you will never hear about because of the vow of confidentiality which she took as part of her ordination vows, just a few minutes ago. 

And as a young woman in ministry, I ask you this one practical thing: honor her ministry by supporting whatever decisions she makes about how to manage her own safety. Young women ministers, especially, think carefully about how and when we are alone in the church building, how we handle one-on-one meetings, and what we would do if we felt unsafe. She has considered those questions, I am sure. Perhaps you will sometimes think she is being too cautious. More likely, you will sometimes wish she would be more cautious. But she will make her own decisions about how to do her work well and safely, and what she needs is your trust and your support. Honor her ministry by supporting her decisions, whatever they may be. 

My second charge to you is this: Honor her humanity. 

Honor her humanity by respecting her time off. That time keeps her life more balanced; it means that she has time to nurture her friendships and relationships, to spend with her family, to dance or do yoga, to rest. When she has time to do those things, she is a better pastor and a healthier person. 

Honor her humanity by giving her room to grow and to change. Know that she will not always be exactly the same as the day you first met her, or the day your congregation called her, or today. She will change over time, because she is human. By the grace of God, we all will. 

Not only will she change, but her life might change. Yours might, as well. She will walk with members of your congregation through the beginnings and ends of relationships; through engagements and marriages and divorces; through rites of passage and graduations; through the births of children and grandchildren; through illnesses and the deaths of loved ones; through job transitions and retirements. Perhaps you will walk with her through some of those things in her own life, as well. No matter what changes in her life, she will be the pastor you have called. 

And finally, congregations, pray for her.  I charge you to pray for her, and for her ministry. If you just remember to do that, everything else will be fine. 

May God bless your lives together. Amen.

The Presents of God

A Sermon on 1 Corinthians 12:1-11

On my long road to ordination, there were many requirements to meet and ordeals to pass through. There were degrees to earn and papers to write and certifications to attain. I had anticipated all of that. And I had anticipated challenges and frustrations and epiphanies and spiritual growth, and I experienced all of those as well. One thing I did not anticipate, though, was sitting in some strange office on the Upper East Side for four hours, filling in bubbles on test forms to answer questions like these: 

“I enjoy working with flowers: Yes, no, or I don’t know.”
“In a social situation like a party, I tend to a) Have one-on-one conversations b) Have conversations in a group of three or more people.”
“I am often able to persuade others of my point of view: Yes, no, or I don’t know.” 

I answered over a thousand such questions, on at least four different tests, as part of the psychological evaluation that is required of every candidate for ordination. Thankfully, when the evaluator analyzed the results, he said that the skills, aptitudes, and personality traits revealed by these tests were consistent with a career in pastoral ministry. 

Isn’t it strange how much of our life path can be determined by these fill-in-the-bubble tests? From the aptitude and personality tests that I took on my path to ordination, to the skills inventories and SATs that guide so many high school students down the path toward a college or a job, to the tests that so many students in New York City take each year, trying to gain entry to the city’s specialized high schools, to the quizzes and assessments on internet dating websites that determine what kind of potential partner people will be matched with. Everywhere we turn, these assessments are used to label, categorize, and quantify. It would have been really interesting, I think to the Apostle Paul, the author of today’s epistle lesson from First Corinthians. 

I like to remember that when we read the epistles, we are “reading someone else’s mail” – epistles are letters from early Christian leaders to churches (or in some cases individuals). They can be sources of wisdom and advice for our contemporary lives and our contemporary church, but they are much easier to understand and interpret when we remember that they were written first to a particular church with particular strengths and weaknesses. This letter was written by the Apostle Paul to the church in Corinth. The Corinthian church was thriving, but it did have its struggles, and Paul wrote to them responding a letter he had received from them, offering advice to them based on questions they had asked and news he had heard. 


Today’s passage tackles the issue of spiritual gifts. It seems that Paul has heard that some members of the Corinthian church are able to “speak in tongues,” praising God in a kind of ecstatic prayer language, unknown to any human ear. This ability, the letter makes clear, has become a point of division: speaking in tongues is seen as a mark of superior faith, and those who can do it are seen as somehow better than those who can’t. Our reading today is Paul’s response to this situation. He advises them: 

There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. 

Paul lists a number of different spiritual gifts, not a conclusive list, but a list of examples, and then he concludes, “All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses.” 

In the face of a community which is divided because some people speak in tongues and others do not, Paul affirms that speaking in tongues is one sign of the Spirit and a legitimate part of the practice of Christian faith. But at the same time, he asks the Corinthians to shift their whole way of thinking about abilities. Instead of seeing the ability to speak in tongues as a sign of superiority, he urges them to see it is a gift from God. It’s not a sign of the speaker’s spiritual prowess, but a sign of God’s goodness. Speaking in tongues isn’t a skill, it is a gift from God. Furthermore, this gift is given not so that people can show off, but so that they can deepen their own faith and build up the faith of the community around them. Paul also asserts that those who can speak in tongues are not the only ones with a gift from God: every person receives gifts from the Holy Spirit, and every person is called to use these gifts for the common good. 

This may sound like a simple and straightforward part of Christian doctrine to our ears two thousand years later, but it is a radical departure from the way the Corinthians would have understood the world. New Testament scholar N.T. Wright notes that the city of Corinth was a destination for rhetoricians, talented public speakers who would come to Corinth to show off their stuff. Their skills and abilities would have been seen as something for them to be proud of, markers of their superior intelligence. The Corinthians think of speaking in tongues in much the same way. But Paul turns popular wisdom on its head, asserting that gifts are not something to boast about, but something we have through the grace of God and the action of the Holy Spirit. Gifts are not for showing off our superiority, but for the glory of God and the good of the world. 

If we are honest with ourselves, this understanding of gifts is also pretty contrary to the worldview that is prevalent in contemporary American society, where the gifts that we tend to focus on may not be “spiritual gifts” exactly, but gifts from God nonetheless. There are certain talents and skills that our society regards as important and valuable, and others that don’t get the same recognition. We prize certain kinds of intellectual skills, the kinds that point students toward lives as doctors or lawyers or other prestigious careers. We value athletic excellence, and celebrate our sports stars. We esteem the traits that we associate with strong leaders: charisma, persuasive speaking, extroversion. None of these are bad things – there are varieties of gifts, indeed, and these are all very good gifts! But we forget, time and again, despite the monthly scandals involving politicians and professional athletes, that none of these gifts are inherently virtuous, that neither academic achievement nor athletic excellence nor strong leadership skills are the same thing as compassion, integrity, or good judgment. 

Meanwhile, people with less admired gifts often go unsung. But the world is full of gifted teachers or administrators, and I don’t know where we would be without them. We are deeply reliant upon the work of diligent and responsible construction crews and maintenance workers. At a Starbucks near a place I used to work, there was a barista who asked every customer how their day was going – and you could tell from his tone of voice and his body language that he really meant it. It was a gift, and a ministry to me, the kind that goes unrecognized and unrewarded so often in our world, and in the world of the early Corinthian church. But Paul calls upon the Corinthians, and upon us, to do things differently. 

Speaking in tongues is not a common practice in our congregation, but perhaps we have something to learn from Paul’s advice to the Corinthians. Are there certain gifts that we value above others in the church today? It certainly looks that way sometimes. After all, my colleague and I get to sit in the front of the church and wear special fancy outfits. We get to stand up in the pulpit and talk for about seventeen minutes every Sunday. It would be easy to think that the pastors are the most important, or most gifted, or most valuable people in the church. But Paul reminds us that that isn’t the way of the kingdom of God. Each of us, Paul reminds us, has gifts from God; every single one of us. Each of us, Paul reminds us, are called to use our gifts for the common good – for the good of the church and the world. The question is not who has the best gifts; the question is, how can we make the best use of our gifts? 

As I look out at the faces of my congregation, I am awe-struck at the many gifts God has blessed our community with, and at the ways we use our gifts for the common good. Did you know, for instance, that Dick volunteers in the church office several days a week? He works with our office administrator on financial record-keeping and proofreads every bulletin. Did you know that Rodda fixed our church website? Have you ever been here when Tina offered a song she wrote for this church’s worship? Have you received a birthday card sent by Joshua? And those are only a few examples of the many ways we use our variety of gifts for the common good. 

The wonderful thing is that gifts are not chores: if you are not quite sure what your gifts are, think about the things you do that fill your heart with joy – those are your gifts, and you are called and invited to use them joyfully for the good of the church and the world. So if Paul wrote the same message to this church today, what would he say? Maybe something like this: 

To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the gift of nurturing the faith of children, and to another the gift of offering hospitality to visitors according to the same Spirit, to another the gift of song by the same Spirit, to another a deep and abiding passion for committee work by the one Spirit, to another the gift of comforting those who are sad or grieving, to another conflict resolution, to another the leadership of discussion groups, to another the ability to fix things that are broken, to another financial knowledge and wisdom. All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses. 

For our many gifts, and for communities where we are invited to use them for the common good, thanks be to God. Amen.

Confessions of a Biblically Illiterate Seminarian

This may sound strange coming from a minister, but I really never knew much about the Bible growing up. Sure, I went to Sunday school every week, but we spent a lot more time gluing sequins to cardboard crosses than we did delving into scripture. I had a Bible story book that told some of the more child-friendly biblical tales. (And also some less child-friendly ones: I was fascinated by the story of Samson, whose eyes were gouged out.) I memorized the twenty-third psalm and learned to sing the books of the bible in order (I can still do it), and in Sunday school we would usually read a verse or two. But I never really got a handle on what the different books of the Bible were, or where to find the familiar parts, or what to make of the rest. Wisdom books, epistles, apocalypses… it was all Greek to me!

In my youth group experience, a talented lay leader helped us learn how to wrestle with biblical texts.  Rather than having someone tell us what it said, we were encouraged to study and think and question and pray and explore, and scripture began to take on new meaning as I was given the opportunity to interpret it for myself.

In college, I learned a little more about the Bible in some of my religion courses; I started to learn about the historical context: the monarchy, the Babylonian exile, the Roman Empire. I learned how to find the Jordan River on a map, and I figured out that there’s not much snow in Bethlehem. In seminary, I finally (!) undertook the task of reading the whole thing, and I learned biblical Hebrew and Greek, as well as different interpretive methods.  But none of that means much if it's just an irrelevant old book... I came, eventually, to see scripture as an ancient witness to the Living God.  Interpreting together with congregants and seminarians, asking the question, "what does this mean for this community, right now?" was the key that finally unlocked the doors of scripture for me. I began to find joy in being part of a People of the Book.

I still don’t know everything about the Bible, but I love being part of a tradition that is gathered around the life of Jesus and the witness of scripture. I love turning the stories and poems and letters over and over, seeing them take on new meaning as I approach the texts from different standpoints in my life, using different methods, with different communities, reflecting on different events and issues in our contemporary world. One of the founders of congregationalism, John Robinson, told the passengers of the Mayflower that there is always “yet more light and truth to break forth from God’s word."  I guess a more contemporary take on that is the UCC slogan: "God is Still Speaking!"

God of Word and Wisdom, help us to hear your message for us today in the ancient words of scripture.  Bless us with words of challenge, comfort, and promise.  We ask this in the name of Christ, the Word made flesh. Amen.

The "Like" Button

I spent much of this week embroiled in a Bible Showdown on facebook. An old acquaintance who is very involved with the choral world at my college has become deeply involved in fundamentalist Catholicism (I’m not sure what type exactly, but one of the kinds that makes snide little remarks about Vatican II.) Wherever classical choral music is sung, gay folks and conservative Christians have to find a way to live together. In our choral world, this has been an enduring but uneasy détente. Political and religious views are kept off the listserv, due to the threat of mutually assured destruction.

Facebook has messed this up big-time – you can’t be a hardcore queer activist and hide it from your choir friends. You can’t be a hardcore Catholic fundamentalist and hide it from your choir friends. (Well, maybe you could, but even thinking about those privacy settings gives me a headache.) This Catholic fundamentalist, J, was offended at the jubilation on his newsfeed on the occasion of the New York state legislature passing marriage equality (WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!), which coincided with Pride weekend. On his wall, he shared his views about “sodomy,” urging his Catholic friends not to receive Communion until they have repented of their sodomy and/or approval thereof, and reminding his non-Catholic friends that we are all condemned to Hell. I went after him, and we went back and forth for a few days. We mostly talked past each other, since I don’t accept the authority of the Pope/Catholic Tradition, and he doesn’t believe I have the authority to interpret the Bible for myself. It’s over now, both because I have nothing more to say and because he has unfriended me, so I’m no longer able to post on his wall.

The point was not to change his mind. I don’t think I can change his mind.

I do honestly believe that God can transform people’s hearts, and I hope and pray for that for J. It is a beautiful and a powerful thing to see someone led out of homophobia, led out of a faith based on hatred and fear and exclusion. It is beautiful and powerful to see someone come to know a God who creates us unique and beautiful and loves us extravagantly and welcomes us with open arms. I’ve seen it happen.

God can do that. But it takes time. It takes more than a day, and more than a facebook thread. And J is probably not in a position to be able to hear anything right now from a female UCC pastor.

So why did I bother? Because it was the right thing to do. Because I cannot let someone speak hatred to my friends on behalf of my Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Because I am called to “proclaim the Gospel to all the world and resist the powers of evil.” Because I have heard too many stories of LGBTQetc folks who thought they had to choose between a church that condemns them or no church at all, because no one ever told them otherwise. And because someone on the internet was wrong.

I am still riled up. I’m scattered and distracted. I’m leaving in an hour for UCC General Synod and not yet packed. And I am so profoundly grateful.

My inbox is full of messages of encouragement and support, notes from dear friends and old acquaintances that remind me what a privilege and blessing it is to bring the good news:

“thanks for standing up for what's right...”

“Your work is making your queer and ally friends feel closer to, rather than alienated from, God. That is real ministry.”

“Thank you for being you - today and always.”

And I’m not even going to start on how many "likes" I've seen.

I am so grateful to have friends like this. It is hard and scary to do Bible Showdown. It feels terrible to be called a repulsive, blasphemous heretic. I’m way out on a limb, and I’m afraid I’ve lost some of my more conservative friends (not just J).

What a blessing to have my ministry affirmed, to know that I do not stand alone, to be reminded that people who need a good word are watching and listening.

I don’t get into internet fights in order to get street cred with my liberal friends. I do it because there are people – lots of people – who still think that J might be right, that God might hate them, that there’s no place for them in the Christian church. I do this for people who don’t know where they stand, don’t know how God could love them, don’t know whether to give up on faith altogether.

The people I’m trying to reach are the people who would never click the “like" button, let alone comment. But I couldn’t do it without my community. Messages and wall posts are little epistles, offering strength and solidarity when the world feels really hostile. Friends, thank YOU. Thank you for taking the time to reach out, for reminding me that what I’m doing matters, and for all the good work you all are doing out there. You give me hope.

Loving and welcoming God,

You have promised us courage in the struggle for justice and peace.

Thank you for the courage we receive from community, standing in solidarity in witness to your vision of extravagant welcome.

Bless us and strengthen us to do your work in the world today and every day.

I pray in the name of Jesus, who turns no one away.

Amen.