abbykk

ode to oakland

it has been a "i hella love oakland " kinda weekend.

starting with:

first fridays in my neighborhood is art time as the murmur is in full swing. we started at the new parish for an art show celebrating mike dream.  it was a fundraiser and i was deeply touched by both the work and the community that surrounded the work.  art at its best. i wish i could have contributed more (note to self: always carry cash). the new parish was also an absolutely incredible space (picture my architect companion drooling) and we will definitely be going back.

we went up to the center of the murmur, stopped by a few of the favorite galleries but i felt overwhelmed by the people. johansson projects always has something inspiring but is always packed.   my favorite this month: evan b harris.

we then headed over to grand. i always stop by farley's east and mercury 20.

the highlight of that part of the hood, the opening of era, a new art bar/lounge.  i definitely didn't feel cool enough to be there, but lov, love, loved the space and the art.  i want to give huge props to who curates their work. they exhibit a much higher proportion of women than you find at most places... including the shockingly incredible drawings of christina empedocles.  her drawings are equally technically breathtaking and conceptually though provoking. the space was again, amazing.  the most gorgeous display for liquor behind a bar i have ever seen (course, it all appeared to be top shelf we couldn't afford, but maybe happy hour?).  topped it all off with a meal at 2022, our favorite place for a burger.

how could the weekend get better? white elephant sale.  if you don't know about this, you have to go.  it is a rummage sale on steroids, all to benefit the oakland museum of california.

and of course, since i work sundays and monday is part of my "weekend," a monday walk around lake merritt and brunch at the brown couch cafe (the proprietor makes it a point to learn the names of her patrons.) rounded it off nicely.

once more for effect: i hella love oakland.

unpacking history

this week's passages: isaiah 61:1-8, luke 5:1-11

The familiarity of this story is comforting.  It is favorite of Scripture, often taught in Sunday school for its fun and interactive images of fish.  But, as I read it this week, I was struck in new ways by the words of the text.

In many translations, Jesus says to the trembling Simon Peter, "Do not be afraid, from now on you will be catching people." They leave a full catch of fish, they leave their families and their businesses, they leave what defines them, and they follow this strange call of Jesus to "catch people."

This is a beautiful passage that reveals the nature of discipleship, but it is also a passage that can be twisted to oppress, to subjugate, to force others to submit to our religious will under the guise of making disciples, of saving people, the guise of catching people for Christ.

None of us can live without our history.  This month we celebrate Black History Month or African American history month, depending on who you talk to and what you read.  We take time to celebrate the the remarkable history of a people that have changed this country.  But, I believe that we should also take time to remember the history of subjugation of people of African descent in this country, and use these moments to continue to fight against racial oppression. 

As a white woman from the middle of the country, I grew up knowing some of this history, and being ashamed of the likely role of my ancestors played in enslaving people.  This history was embedded in our communities, as we lived along the very river that marked freedom for many hundreds and thousands over people over many decades.  In my aunt's house outside of Cincinnati, as I put my head into a hollowed out wall that protected people seeking freedom along the underground railroad, I felt torn apart. I know that it is likely that parts of my family supported and engaged in slavery, and that parts of my family opposed and fought against slavery.  History is muddy.  But it is a part of who we are.  We cannot leave our history.

The history of slavery is the history of this country.  The history of Africans brought here on slave ships is the history of this country.  The history of black people of all kinds of stories, backgrounds, and origins, is the history of this country.  History is muddy.  But it is a part of who we are.  We cannot leave our history.

So what does it mean to catch people?  In our shared history, when have we caught people?  When have we made disciples? When has catching people involved our need to control others?  When has it involved our willingness to freely engage with others, learn from others, through Christ?

Reading this story this week, at the beginning of Black history month, as a white young woman, I was deeply bothered. The first thing that came to mind, upon reading "Do not be afraid, from now on you will be catching people" was the pursuit and capture of Kunta Kinte, in Alex Haley's novel Roots.  He describes the capture and kidnap of the young man in all of its terror.  Each of the 12 million souls trafficked across the Atlantic from Africa to places all over the Western Hemisphere were caught.  Caught.  They were were people who were caught.  Many of them were forced to change their beliefs, to change their religion.  Disciples were being made, people were being caught, but not in the way that Jesus called us to.

When we share our faith, when we engage with other people, we have a choice.  We choose to be open to the other person and risk being changed.  Or, we choose to defend our sense of self, controlling, oppressing, and subjugating the other person, asking or forcing them to become like us if they want to be in relationship with us.

Jesus calls us to be open.  Often we choose not to be. Each time we have chosen not to be, whether as a society, or as an individual, is becomes a part of our history.  Those times that white people have chosen to control and subjugate others are a part of my history.  The suffering that resulted is a part of my history.  I cannot change that. 

But, I can choose how to engage my history.  I can choose how my history will shape me, and how it will lead me into the future.  All of us make that choice, and as a part of all kinds of communities, we make those choices together.

Twice in this story, Simon Peter was tempted to be limited by his history, to be bound by his history.  He was tempted to believe that the story could never change.  First, when Jesus tells him to let down the nets, he talks back.  "But, we have been working, really really hard to no avail.  We work and we work and work and we work, and we see no fruits of our labor.  We have worked all night and caught nothing."  He was almost trapped by his own lack of imagination. He was almost trapped by his history.

But Jesus transformed the story, and the nets were full of fish.

Why be proven wrong once, when you can be proven wrong twice?  Simon Peter bows to the Christ, recognizing his Savior.  But rather than see the way he can change to follow his Savior, he only see his own inadequacy.  "I cannot be a part of your story.  I am not faithful enough.  I am not good enough. I am trapped by who I have been.  I will never change." Again, he was almost trapped by history.

But again, Jesus transformed the story.  And they gave up everything and followed him.

Jesus was not done with Peter.  Again and again, Peter messed up as a disciple.  He was far from perfect. Again and again, he was tempted to be trapped by his own history.  But, again and again, he was transformed in Christ, perpetually becoming a disciple.

We can choose to be open or we can choose control.  We choose how we relate to our history.

Faith Ringgold chooses to be open, and in the process, she transforms history and uses to be inspire change.

Faith Ringgold was born in Harlem in 1930 to a mother who was a fashion designer.  Her life was always infused with creativity, color, fabric and stories, but it was not until after she became a mother and taught art that she truly transformed into the artist many of us know today.  She is most well known for her story quilts, that combine a love of history, a love of story, a love of color and a love of painting.

She knows her history.  She engages her history.  And then, she re-frames her history to challenge us all to see differently and to be changed.

The transatlantic slave trade is one of the darkest and most horrifying moments in our history, when the cruelty of mankind seemed at its height.  Between the 16th and 19th centuries, 12 million people arrived in the Western Hemisphere from Africa, through capture and trade on the shores of the continent.  Millions more were captured but died  in the bowels of ships along the way.  Low estimates place the number of deaths around 8 million.  Many fear it could have been twice that. This epidemic of depravity was supported and blessed by religious leaders under the guise of catching people for Christ. 

Faith Ringgold transforms this history in "We Came to America."  She shows the panicking, struggling and dying Africans thrown into the Ocean from a burning slave ship.  But, she also paints the Statue of Liberty as a Black woman. This transformation calls our attention, no matter what our race, to the suffering that built this country.  She shows us who the true tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free really were.  Those masses included every soul that died in a slave ship somewhere in the Atlantic, and every soul dehumanized by being "owned" by another.  She chooses not to be bound by history, but to unpack it, and to transform it so that we can transformed.

As an African American woman artist, Faith was often an outsider.  Though she was born in the city that became the center of the art world by the middle of the 20th century, she was not reflected in that art world.  But, she was influenced by black aesthetics and European modernism.  She was influenced by amazing black women who changed our world, and by a mentally ill artist who loved to paint in Arles.   Still, she worked on the margins of the art world, largely due to history.

She knew this.  So she painted a new history.  This story quilt is part of a series that tells the of a fictional artist, not unlike herself, who comes from America to France to engage in the artistic ferment at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century.  But this quilt is a fantasy beyond that.  She brings together eight extraordinary women-Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, Madame CJ Walker, Zora Neale Hurston, Mary McLeod Bethune, Ida Wells, Fanny Lou Hamer, Ella Baker and Rosa Parks. They quilt alongside the creativity of Van Gogh, weaving together their vision of the world. She writes a history where it is possible to be a black woman who is a famous artist, to be a black woman that changes the world, and to be a black woman that is friends with Van Gogh. Faith changes the story to change her future, and the future of women of color.  By transforming history, she writes a new future.

God wants us to be able to change our story.  To not be trapped by our history, whether is a history of our people being oppressed, or our people oppressing, but to be transformed through Christ into new possibilities.  This does not mean we abandon our history.  It simply means we change our relationship to it.  We unpack it.

The God we know is the God of Isaiah, who is a God of Justice, who proclaims jubilee, freedom from oppression, good news to the poor, who binds up the brokenhearted and comforts those who mourn. This is a God of change, of transformation, of endless possibility.

Simon Peter gave everything up to follow this God as he experienced him in Jesus.  Even though he was prone to making mistakes, and he was prone to be trapped by his history, he chose to believe that his story could be changed, just as we see in Faith Ringgold's artwork.  God wants us to choose to risk. To be open to being changed by others, rather than needing to capture and control them.  God wants us to be open to our history, to be transformed by it rather than controlled by it.

This congregation has a history together.  Each and every relationship formed wtihint the walls of this churh has a history, but all of those histories link together to form the history of this community, that reaches back to 120 years ago, when fourteen people had enough faith to charter a congregation. It is full of amazing and unlikely stories, of God using people in surprising ways to building a community. That history is embedded in our life together.  The bell we ring to begin worship, that bell was made possible by the effort of two young girls--Ann Morrison and Myrtle Seammon--who collected money in what was a small farming community at the time.  Before there was even a congregation, the history of God working in the world gave them the faith to see the future and work towards it.

History is muddy.  But, it is a part of who we are.  We cannot leave out history.

But we cannot be trapped by it either.  God calls us to go and make disciples, or as this morning's passage puts it, to catch people.  There is great hope for growth in this church.  At the same time, many folks feel like Simon Peter, having worked and worked and worked without seeing fruit, and it is hard to keep going.   But, if we are not trapped by our history but are transformed by it through Christ, we don't know what possibilities await.

We have to be open.  We have to risk.  We have to choose to follow Jesus, inviting people in, not to make them like us, not to assimilate them into our community, but to learn from them and love them, open to what they have to offer. Jesus calls us to mutuality, and it is that kind of catching people that will make our nets full at the end of the day.  Our ancestors in this faith community followed that call, believed in possibility when their was not evidence to support the future they imagined.  Will we?

There are hard choices with hard times ahead. In the difficult moments, we are never alone.  We know that the Holy Spirit is among us, and we know that Christ is leading us.  The question we must ask ourselves is...we will be like Simon Peter and his friend?  Will we choose to risk, to leave everything and follow Jesus?

Let us pray.

drawing in worship

inspired by yesterday's earl lectures closing worship sermon by the rev. donna allen.

getting to know you

i grew up in a small suburb where the schools were the heart of, well, everything.  if it happened in finneytown, it probably at or through one of the schools.  you can't know finneytown without knowing and understanding the schools.

lots of places are like that, and one of my greatest frustrations that has kept me feeling disconnected from "real life" in northern california since i moved here (three years ago) is being ignorant of the schools.  the systems are very different in california than ohio, and so i started with a deficit anyway.

this week, that was remedied some.  

my congregation is ever so blessed with the presence of the none other than the president of the oakland unified school district board, gary yee. (he is the guy in the middle of the back row in this picture). school board members are elected by district, and so gary took me to four of the school in his (and fruitvale presby's) district.  our church sits in the in middle of a neighborhood with lots of schools... three of which i could easily walk to from church.  gary introduced me to the principals, showed me the buildings, and gave me lots of background information.  i was deeply impressed by the task that the teachers, administrators, staff people, and custodians are charged with in this neighborhood.  this sunday, i am preaching that "love is the glue." in our neighborhood, the schools are the glue that holds the community together.

the challenge i walked away with was to discern what our congregation can reasonably do to support the schools around us, the folks who make those schools run, the kids that go to those schools, and the parents that send their kids to those schools.  they are the future of our city.

public education in oakland is innovating and improving.  support it when and how you can.

and pray for their difficult budget decisions.  it is not easy for anyone, and there will be pain no matter how the cuts are made.

one body

today's sermon, using the lectionary texts:

1 corinthians 12:12-31 and luke 4:14-21  with the illustrative images.

this Portrait of Picasso by Juan Gris is an example of analytical cubism, a style that analyzes a natural form and deconstructs it through the planes, the volumes, the surfaces that make up the form.  by looking at picasso in this way, gris was able to give us a new perspective and new way of looking at who picasso is, much in the way that paul gives us a new way of at looking at what the body of christ is. and just as paul reminds us that though diverse, we are all part of one body that has a source in one Spirit, analytical cubism unifies the body's many parts through the use of shades of greys and neutrals, and repeating lines and planes. this simplification does not deny the body's diversity but reinterprets it.

     but, on any one subject, on any body, there are many perspectives.  dora maar, the creator of this portait of picasso, could not possibly see him the way that juan gris did.  she brought her own perspective to the same form. and yet, these two paintings are born of the same spirit, the spirit that was cubism, the that spirit that enlivened Picasso's body. dora maar could not have painted juan gris' version any more than a foot can be a hand.  we do not have  a whole body without the many perspectives, and the many functions that make it up.
      when deconstructing a form, a person, a body in this way, it gives the artist the opportunity to arrange the pieces as they see fit.  to give a particular function to each part, each feature, that they see fit. they can emphasize form over function, or vice versa.  they can bring out features that are more than physical details, features that give life to the subject's personality. deconstructing and reconstructing a form using cubism is in fact, a more complex way of seeing and representing a person than realistic painting.
     God arranges the details for a purpose, giving each of us a function from the Spirit, meant to live with the other parts of the body to function as a whole.  God did not establish a pattern, where each and every member worked the same, looked the same and functioned the same.  Rather God established a messy and complex body, not unlike a cubist painting, where each member functions uniquely but contributes mutually and is loved equally.

       Picasso did not see himself the way his friends, lovers and colleagues did, as evidenced by this self-portrait. we all see ourselves differently than the world sees us.  often it is so obvious to the world what our gifts are, what our function in the body is, and we cannot see it.  we can't see our own colors, we can't see our own forms.  our version of ourselves is  toned down, drab, plain and sometimes downright dreary. but as a part of the body, we are given the gift of relationship, of being able to see ourselves through the eyes of another, through the eyes of God.  this discernment allows us to know our gifts, to know whether we are an eye or an ear, a toe, a vein, an artery, and to rejoice in our function. 

      when we see ourselves as a part of the body, in relationship to each other, functioning as a part of the greater whole for the greater good, we can see ourselves as God does, as one of God's beloved children.  God is proud of us and the function we fulfill. we were made for the function we are given, whether we are a part that gets the glory... the brain, a well crafted cheekbone, hands that dance along a piano, feet that run a marathon... or a part no one notices... the pinky toe that gives us balance.  nose hairs, sometimes a nuisance, but an important part of the immune system that work to keep dust and germs out of our lungs. fingernails.  you have to cut them all the time.  but if you slam the end of your finger in something or get the end of your finger with the scissors... you are glad there is a nail there for protection. when we understand how we function in relationship to the entire body, we live out of a place of faith and trust that God's system works
      Many of you in this room know who Picasso is, and probably could identify some of his paintings, even if you don't consider yourself the least but interested in art.  But, I imagine no one knows the name "Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler" and if you do, it is probably because of this painting, and not because of what he did.
 
Kahnweiler was a German transplant to Paris at the turn of the 20th century.  A city of ferment and creativity, and a man of vision and means, Kahnweiler was the first and most ardent defender and promoter of Cubism.  His gallery alone supported many of the now the famous Cubists.  no one else was buying their paintings.  he saw what no one else did, and made their work possible.  When Kahnweiler started buying his paintings, Picasso was unknown and destitute. But, we know him as the most famous artist of the last century, an artist who broke boundaries, and ushered in a new era. We don't know Kahnweiler.  And yet, He played a vital role in changing the aesthetic sensibilities of European culture, of challenging that world to see differently, perceive differently, and thus express themselves differently.  But we don't know him.  He is like our nose hairs.  Barely noticed, usually brushed aside, especially by the long view of memory... but integral to the function of the body, and as Paul says, worthy of greater honor and greater respect than the parts of the body that usually get attract our attention.  Kahnweiler deserves our honor and respect as much, if not more, than Picasso himself, for without him, the course of Europe's visual history may never have been changed.

     Paul's paradigm of respect up-ends our world in the same way that Cubism did.  he promotes the least of these as the greatest, warning against the hubris that allows the spiritually gifted to think more highly of themselves than others in the body of Christ.  But, this was not his message that he was preaching to the Corinthians, it is the heart of the gospel, proclaimed by Jesus in the temple in his hometown in today's gospel passage.  And just as Cubism looked at forms and deconstructed and reconstructed them, Jesus looked at society, at the religious bodies around him, and deconstructed and reconstructed them according to God's Word and Spirit.
 ¹⁸"The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
      because he has anointed me
      to preach good news to the poor.
   He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
      and recovery of sight for the blind,
   to release the oppressed,

    ¹⁹to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

And if any members of the body are poor, are imprisoned, are blind, are suffering, then all members of the body suffer.  When we live in light of the function God has given us, when we live in light of our function's relationship to the other members of the body, when we live in light of our shared faith and fate, truly understanding our interdependent nature, then we cannot help but suffer together and rejoice together.  Nothing can keep us from bringing good news to the poor, freeing the oppressed, bringing sight to the blind or proclaiming jubilee... because we know that our neighbor's blindness is our blindness, our neighbor's oppression is our oppression.  we suffer together as one body, but paul also reminds us that we rejoice as one body as well.  when a child is born, the whole body rejoices.  when love becomes commitment, the whole body rejoices.  when we are honored for our gifts, the whole body is honored.

jesus challenged us with this proclamation to expand what we see as the boundaries of our body.  to see all that are broken hearted, all that are suffering beneath the crushing weight of poverty, all that are without food, clothing, shelter and love, as a part of our body.  to see their broken bodies as our own.  the whole world has been challenged with this reality in the last couple of weeks, as the tragedy in haiti is more and more revealed, as the need in haiti grows more and more dire, and the likelihood of still  finding survivors among the rubble becomes smaller and smaller. Picasso painted this piece because he felt a part of a suffering body... that of the Spanish people.. when the Basque town of Guernica was bombed as a part of the Spanish Civil War in 1937.  Picasso was in France at the time, an enemy of facism.  But, his heart bled with his countrymen as civilians lost their lives in this bloody conflict.

Haiti is not the victim of a war, but the victim of a confluence of natural disaster and the disastrous system of global poverty.  But just as Picasso recognized broken bodies in Guernica as a part of his own, our Savior whom we follow calls us to see the hurting bodies in Haiti as our own, and to respond accordingly.

When we are able to rejoice together, to suffer together, to pour out God's compassion for one another...

when we are able to see our gifts, to see our function, to see the function of the body...

when we are able to see ourselves are God's beloved and gifted children and see our neighbors as God's beloved and gifted children...

when we understand that different and diverse expressions come from the same Spirit, that we are part of a messy, complex body born of that one Spirit...

then we can overcome, appreciate and rejoice in our differences to live as one body, without dissension, proclaiming, living for and fighting for the message that Jesus brought... preaching good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed...

because the Spirit of the Lord is upon our body.

who's got your back?

i grew up in a family that always had each other's back. i grew up with friends who still have my back.  but, when i moved to california, and when i made the transition from student (tell yourself you are a temporary resident) to working citizen (ok, i really do live in california), i worried about who would have my back.

at the golden globes this week, sandra bullock thanked the touhy family for teaching her that family is whoever has your back.  this week, my family is big.  i have been surprised again and again (and grateful again and again) that everywhere i turn, people have my back.  mentors and colleagues in the presbyterian church, teaching, coaching, mentoring and encouraging me. people in the church. people in the community.

to top it off: the man that AAA sent to try to change our flat. we couldn't find the right part to get the lug nuts off.  we hoped he could.  almost an hour and a half later, less than a mile from home, we gave up.  between the three of us and the kindest AAA man ever, there was no way to get the tire off. so we made a plan, park the car somewhere legal, walk home. get to the dealer tomorrow, to get the right part tomorrow, to put the spare on. so, the professional in the crowd figured that we could drive very, very slowly to a parking space. 

it's oakland.  there were no spaces.  he followed us ten blocks, at 5 mph, to make sure that no one rear ended us. he had our back even if he couldn't change our tire.

who has your back?  who's back do you have? who is family, blood relatives or not?  how can we expand our ideas of family?

what i learned on the street

yesterday, i was waiting on a meeting at 23rd and capp in san francisco.  the rain had mostly subsided, the wind was still blowing, unpredictably fierce. the alcove of the church i was waiting outside of was occupied by a man and his carts, carefully protected from the rain with barriers of umbrellas, tarps and sheets.

in the twenty minutes that we talked i learned from him:

1. recreational drugs (except marijuana, he wanted me to know) are poison.

2. people throw away good stuff.

3. people throw away weird stuff.

4. it is possible to grow plants in a shopping cart (well, if you are not me, or someone like me who kills plants)

5. we derive a lot of our dignity from feeling like we are in control, from having a domain, no matter how small.

6. living on the streets does not always equal homeless.

7. to be homeless, to truly be without shelter, without a place or space or corner or cart to call home, or a home in another city, can rob you of your dignity, your ability to feel fully human.

8. home comes in many more forms than an apartment or a house.

9. we all got somebody we love, that we hope we can provide for.

10.God surprises us and Jesus is with us.

own it.

easier said than done.

saturday night, i was at an interfaith discussion on justice... what if rev. dr. MLK jr. and president obama met?  it was a small group--a panel of three brilliant religious leaders of the bay area, and a group that could fit around a table. so, after the panel each spoke for ten minutes we introduced ourselves, name stats, religious group. i gave my name.  said i used to work for one of the panelists (yes, that would be brc) but didn't mention my current pastoral position. 

so brc of course says "and what is your job?"

and i reply, slightly annoyed, "well, i am your assistant."

"no, your other job." laughter ensues.

"oh, right.  i am a pastor.  fruitvale presbyterian church, oakland."

when is it going to become natural, easy, fluid, to say "i am a pastor."

to own it?

this has happened to me before, it is becoming a pattern really.  the year before seminary, similarly in a public forum, i was asked by a writer, kathy y. wilson, who was presenting at a leadership workshop i organized, what i was going to school for.  "theology" i said with a lift to my voice, a tilt upward, unsure with the last syllable. 

she owns who she is. and with my less than confident response, she challenged me to do the same, a message that i have carried with me for years, ever since.

in honor

in honor of the legacy of rev. dr. martin luther king jr., here is what i preached.  i am deeply aware this week that his dream is far from reached, that we still have much work to do to make God's beloved community real.

*     *     *

Let us pray.

God, we are grateful for the ancestors of our faith, those who lived by the Spirit, from Moses, to Elijah, to John the Baptist, through the early days of our faith, through the Reformation through today.  They all spoke your word to their people.  We ask this morning that as we celebrate the life and work of a particular saint- the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., that you continue to speak to us through his words and his work, his life and his ministry. Our hearts are open to your Spirit and our minds are open to your Word. May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing to you today.  Amen.

Corinth was a a mess.  It was falling apart at the seams.  An infant of a faith community, it's larger society was not friendly to it, but internal struggle was causing more damage to this community than anything else.  People fought over who to follow.  Some flaunted their wealth, claiming authority because of their class.  Others claimed earthly wisdom as spiritual wisdom.  Access to worship and to the Lord's supper was not equal.  Disputes often erupted over what was the best way to worship God. 

Paul had a long relationship with this community.  What read in our Bible as two letters was probably three or four letters.  We know that he wrote even more than that.  In the community at Corinth, he saw the manifestation of the Spirit.  He saw deep faith.  But, he also knew their dysfunction.  And so, over time, he walked with them, as a guide, a shepherd, a leader.  He loved them.

His most basic premise was this:  your community should reflect what you believe about God and each other.  Your community should reflect your relationship with Christ.  It is only by the Holy Spirit that we can confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.  It is only by the Holy Spirit that we can be united by that confession.

He challenged the community at Corinth to live in a way that reflected their faith, that reflected the presence of the Spirit among them.  In this particular passage, he wants to set the record straight.  People have been claiming authority based on their spiritual gifts, setting up a hierarchy where they are given importance based on the gifts they have been given.  Paul is appalled.

First, the source of anything spiritual is God, not the individual members of the community.  Second, the variety of gifts reflects the variety of people given spiritual gifts... and we are all given spiritual gifts.  Finally, spiritual gifts are not the basis for award or self-promotion, they are given for the benefit of the whole community.

When we know that we are loved by God, when we are filled with the Spirit of God's love, we are given gifts, spiritual gifts, that we in turn must give to our community. 

The Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. was gifted by the Spirit.  He was gifted with intelligence.  By 26, he had a PhD.  He was gifted with leadership.  At 25, he was pastoring his first church.  He was gifted with charisma.  By 30, he had lead a bus boycott, helped to found the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, becoming its first president.  He could gather, inspire, and empower crowds of people in a way that few could.  In 1964, he became the youngest recipient ever of the Nobel Peace Prize.  These are gifts of the Spirit that he used for the common good.  He could have made money, established power and authority, used his gifts for himself.  But he didn't.  He used his gifts for his community, his nation, his world.

First, I want to ask you what memories you have of Dr. King.  How did he touch your life, when he was alive, or how has his legacy touched your life since his death?  As we share memories of him, think about the spiritual gifts you saw in his life. We will share those as well.

...

As gifted as Dr. King was, throughout his sermons and his speeches, he was always acknowledging that he could not do it alone.  To be a movement, many people had to put their gifts together, tens, hundreds, thousands of people over days, months and years.  This kind of collaboration, this kind of diverse expressions of the Spirit working in concert, this is what reflects the glory of God and works for the common good.  this reflects to unity of the one Spirit from whom we receive our gifts.  This reflects the heart of Paul's message in this passage he sent to the Corinthians.

Dr. King knew that those able to register voters, those able to walk instead of ride the bus, those able to organize their friends, train the youth, learn from their elders, those able to tell the stories of others, those gifted with bravery, with courage, with pluck, with teaching, with preaching, with healing, with giving, all of those folks, each and every one of the thousands, were needed for the common good, were needed for the Civil rights movement, were needed for the arc of the moral universe to bend towards justice.

Two months before his death he preached this:

"everybody can be great, (Everybody) because everybody can serve. (Amen) You don't have to have a college degree to serve. (All right) You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. (Amen) You only need a heart full of grace, (Yes, sir, Amen) a soul generated by love. (Yes) And you can be that servant."

To this I add, everybody can serve, because everybody is gifted by the Spirit. We are all given gifts by the Spirit.  We are all called to use those gifts, bravely and boldly, to serve the good of our community.

I have been touched by the ways that I have seen the gifts of this community used.  Gifts of hospitality, of care, of warmth, of music, of laughter, of organization, of critical thinking, of challenge, of comfort, of compassion, of diligence, of patience, of faith.  We all have gifts.  Discern the gifts of the Spirit in yourself.  Discern and encourage the gifts of the Spirit in each other.  When  you know that you are deeply loved by God, you will be unable to contain those gifts.  They will ooze out into the community, touching everyone around you.

As we reflect on the legacy of Dr. King this week, as we reflect on the call of the Spirit this week, as we reflect on our gifts this week, continue to ask where you gifts are called to be used.

Jesus was called upon at a wedding.  A bizarre place for a miracle.  But, it was there, in celebration of love, that Jesus preformed his first sign of the Spirit, his first miracle.  A miracle is a place where God breaks into the world, a moment where we see evidence of the Spirit, a time where we have access to the Divine.  Jesus preformed a miracle that day, as he kept the party going, kept everyone laughing, and having fun.  His mother was the one who called upon him, who saw his gifts of the Spirit and encouraged him.  She contributed to the miracle.

We are called to make miracles everyday.  To use our gifts to create space where God breaks into this world, to show the evidence of the Spirit, to ease access to the divine.  The Civil Rights movement was a series of miracles, millions of them, facilitated by the likes of everyone from The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to the sanitation workers who went on strike in Memphis.  You do not have to have a college degree to make miracles.  You certainly do not have to have a degree from seminary to make miracles, or be ordained to make miracles.  You do not need to know Aristotle, Einstein or Plato, you do not need to have good grammar, or good manners.  You only need, as Dr. King preached with his life and his words, a soul generated by love and a heart full of grace.  You only need to recognize the gifts of the Spirit that you have and use them.

This week, we don't just celebrate the life of Dr. King and work towards fulfilling his dreams and his legacy, we also mourn with the people of Haiti.  Their tragedy, as their world collapsed around them, could easily have been our own.  But the tragedy of their poverty, that long preceded the earthquake, and that will long out live its effects, is unlike any other tragedy in this hemisphere.  They have long been the most impoverished nation in this hemisphere and will suffer more from the impact of this earthquake because of it. So this morning, I ask all of us to pray with the people of Haiti, to sing with the people of Haiti, to consider the miracles alive in Haiti, to reflect on the presence of the Spirit in Haiti, and to ask ourselves how our gifts, given by God, our spiritual gifts, can help bring miracles to Haiti, and everywhere else that they are desperately needed.

Let us pray.

agapetos. preaching on my favorite word in the bible.

last's week sermon was preached from notes, and as always, if you want to listen, you can find it at fvpc.org.

but, if you prefer text, here are the notes i used to preach.  pardon the mispellings, incomplete sentences and other foibles.  they really are just notes.

*     *     *

Let us pray.  Creator Spirit, who hovered over the waters at creation's birth, who descended in the form of a dove at Jesus' baptism, who was poured out under the signs of fire and wind at Pentecost: Come to us, open our hearts and minds, so that we may hear the Word of life and be renewed by your power, for you live and reign with God and Christ now and forevermore. Amen.

The voice of the LORD is over the the creeks, the bay, the mighty Pacific Ocean;
       the God of glory quakes and shakes like our ground,
       the LORD hangs like heavy fog over the mighty waters.

 ⁴ The voice of the LORD is compelling;
       the voice of the LORD is mind-blowing.

 ⁵ The voice of the LORD fells the redwoods;
       the LORD snaps the giant sequoias of the Sierra like a toothpick.

 ⁶ The voice of the LORD makes California skip like a squirrel,
       the whole of America leap like the spawning salmon.

 ⁷ The voice of the LORD strikes
       with flashes of lightning.

 ⁸ The voice of the LORD shakes the Oakland;
       the LORD shakes San Francisco.

 ⁹ The voice of the LORD twists the highways
       and strips the hills bare.
       And in his churches and cities all cry, "Glory!"

 ¹⁰ The LORD sits honored over the rising waters and crumbling neighborhoods;
       the LORD is honored as King forever.

 ¹¹ The LORD gives strength to his people;
       the LORD blesses his people with peace.

The voice of the Lord is around us, in us, and in each other.  The beauty of today's Psalm, used for worship, for praise, for knowing God through the ways that God spoke to the ancient Israelite community.  It is just as true today.  The details are different, the heart of the truth is the same.

God speaks to us, each and everyday, through creation, through our city, through each other.

Epiphany is a special time for listening for the voice of God, intentionally.

Living with this story of Jesus, we travel from the manger, through the visit of the wise men, through Jesus' childhood, to the beginning of his ministry, his baptism.

Baptized with and among us.  Remembering our own baptism.

BUT, it is during prayer// AFTER baptism // that God speaks.

Through the physical manifestation of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus is the beloved.  Pull apart the greek word.  Participle.  An action from God on behalf of Jesus.  Always active, but for Jesus a constant state of being.  Being loved.  Always.

Though this was spoken of Jesus, the good news we know through the whole story is that through Jesus, we are also God's beloved.  We are also loved by God constantly.  As a state of being.  Nothing we do impacts that state of being.  It is. And always will be.  We are God's beloved. 

Luke's particular version of the story challenges us to go to God in prayer, as a reminder of our beloved state of being, but also to listen for the voice of God.  

When our hearts are open to listen, we are often surprised at where the voice speaks.  Just as our ancestors before us, Moses when confronted with a burning bush, Abraham when the angel told him to put the knife down, prophet after prophet who heard God in a whisper when they expected a storm, a storm when the expected a whisper, or simply a small still voice in the night calling their name...

I heard the voice of God calling from the streets of Cincinnati, in the bubbling laughter, balls of energy, voices reading the tiniest words.  I had heard the voice of God before, but there I was truly baptized, my heart was truly open and listening and I found not just God's presence, but God's love as a state of being, my first glimpse into my self as a beloved child, through knowing children Jesus would have called to him, through children much of the world ignored, through knowing that they were beloved by God.  It was there I learned what prayer without ceasing means as an orientation, and openness to God, access to my belovedness, God's love for me, as a state of being.

Luke challenges us to live with listening hearts.  Jesus always challenged over and over, as he worked with ignorant disciples, haughty religious leaders and ostracized outsiders, us to live with listening hearts, to orient ourselves to the love of God, because make no mistake, each one of us, whether we acknowledge it or not, lives is a state of being that is as God's beloved child.

The challenge does not end there.  We are called to see that beloved state of being in each other.  next time you are angry, frustrated, upset, distrustful of someone, anyone, remember that person's beloved state of being. Remember that God loves them as a divine child.  If there is one hope that I have for this congregation, for this community, it is that.  For all of you to be able to see each other as loved by God, even when it is hardest.  See each other as God's beloved and see this church transformed.