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Sermon April 26, 2009 Let us pray. O God you are behind us and before us. Lay your hands upon me as I utter these words. And may we all feel your presence in our souls. Amen As some of you know I was invited to a program this last week in Cleveland called Conversations 2009. It is an annual meeting of the senior ministers of large and medium size churches in the United Church of Christ. While a number of topics were on the agenda – it primarily focused on the future of the church in all its iterations – from the wider church, our denomination to local churches like this one. There were many sobering moments in our discussions – for the numbers of members and churches in mainline protestant churches are -- as I mentioned at the Annual Meeting -- declining. Yet, I came away from the meeting guardedly optimistic. Now, I know some of you think it is part of my job to be a cheerleader and perhaps it is. That may be why I have a set of pompoms in my office. But in fact I left uplifted. I was meeting with 35 other ministers of churches like ours – some facing similar financial and demographic challenges – and yet most are thriving and making a big difference in their own particular way in communities as diverse as Greenwich, Connecticut; Berkeley, California; Duluth, Minnesota; and Naples, Florida. Our kind of progressive Protestantism is alive and kicking across America. Today as we vote on our budget – we really are voting on our vision for the future. To put this vote in perspective – I am going to talk about the church, drawing on things I heard and thought about in Cleveland. Penny Nixon, the Senior Minister of the Congregational Church in San Mateo, California preached to all of us –a gutsy thing to do when your entire congregation is made up of preachers. She was eloquent and inspiring. She also generously gave me permission to borrow a story she told on herself. Recently, as she was about to celebrate a major birthday, her partner asked her what she wanted. She replied that she loved to look at the stars at the vacation beach house they shared with others. So the big day came and lo and behold at dinner there was a big package on the table for her. She unwrapped it and discovered a telescope inside. Now Penny said that what she had in mind was one of those telescopes that you can use but also put in your living or dining room as a decorative accent --probably one like this one I acquired many years ago. It really works – you can see the moon and stars pretty well -- but it also is nice (when polished) on the sideboard. Of course not being a great polisher I have left mine in a box for the last 6 years. But what Penny got was not a telescope like this – but one with an elaborate set of side by side tubes with an eyepiece and a motor and computer inside. So after dinner she took this unexpected mini Mt. Palomar out on to the top deck of this beach house. She plugged it in – and it began to make “R2D2” noises. Slowly the telescope moved -- homing in on some predetermined setting. When Penny looked through the eyepiece she had a great view of the dirty dishes on the dining room table. So she moved the telescope to a different location. But again making the same sounds, it turned back towards the dining room. By this time she was beginning to get a little frustrated. A friendly voice called from the house upon hearing Penny’s frustrated mutterings -- suggesting that the deck lights be turned off. Presumably on the theory the telescope was programmed to turn toward the brightest light source. The lights were dimmed. However, the telescope when turned on again -- slowly rotated back to the same dirty dishes. Penny’s frustration mounted. Then another voice suggested that she read the directions. To which Penny responded “I can’t read them because the lights are out.” As her frustration continued to mount Penny admitted that she seriously contemplated tossing the telescope off the deck. (In case you are wondering the telescope was programmed to turn to the north.) Nonetheless Penny didn’t succumb to her frustrations but instead walked to the steps and went to the lower deck where with her unaided eyes she took pleasure in looking at the abundant stars twinkling. Penny told the story to make the point that those of us in the church at times focus on the operation of the telescope and not always on the stars that are the ultimate goal. What she meant was that seeing and connecting with God is what we are about and the church is the vehicle -- the telescope by which we do that. There are times when we -- for understandable reasons -- become preoccupied with the telescope, forgetting that it is a vehicle to help us connect with something bigger. She ended her story by confessing that she put her gift telescope in the closet and has never taken it out since. Up to that point I think Penny’s story works wonderfully!! What separates us from other organizations is that our goal is to discover the stars. Our faith, which is what draws us here, is about connecting with the transcendent, which gives meaning and coherence to life. Like our connection to the stars -- our connection to the transcendent is both a matter of head and heart. Often, when we look at the stars – at least when I do – we try to find the North Star, Polaris, and Sirius and Alpha Centauri -- those bright, easy to find ones and of course Venus -- the so-called evening star Sometimes we also try to find the Big Dipper and Orion. And we speculate on how far away they are. But even more on those clear nights at the top of a hill, at the beach or on a dock– when we escape the light pollution of modern life – we can find ourselves overcome with feelings of awe that arise from the sea of shimmering lights beyond our ability to count. Nothing gives a greater feeling of creation’s beauty, its mystery and the majesty of God -- than looking at the heavens. Similarly, I believe that faith is the process of seeking to connect with God. And that is something we can and should, at times, do on our own – one and one with God -- just like looking up with our unaided eyes to the heavens. But where I think Penny’s story breaks down was in putting the telescope away. A telescope -- indeed even a pair of binoculars -- enhances our view of the heavens. If you doubt that just take out a pair of ordinary binoculars some night and look at the moon. Craters and mountains magically appear and your appreciation of the beauty of that celestial object is changed and enriched immensely. That is, of course, what a church at its best does. It aids; it enhances our connection with the ultimate. That is what we are about here. That is the role of the church at its best. It is what separates us from all of the other “do good” organizations. But being a church is not a one-way process of heavenly contemplation. Here again the telescope serves as a useful analogy. As most of you know there are two kinds of optical telescopes – reflectors and refractors. Refractors, like this one in my hand, focus light though a series of lens to your eye. You see what is there simply magnified by a lens or two. They work OK. But the best telescopes are the reflectors. They contain huge mirrors that gather light so dim that it cannot be seen and then focus and reflect all that light into a new image that could not be observed by the naked eye or even by most refractor telescopes. When we think of a telescope we must always remember that it is a two-way device. Yes, we are seeing something out there, but only because something comes to us. The church at its best is like that a mirror that reflects the majesty, meaning and love of God into our world. That reflection takes many forms. It is found reflected in our education ministry. Through the work of our dedicated teachers we focus faithful light into the lives of our young people and our adults. In outreach programs we focus God’s love on those disadvantaged, oppressed or suffering. In our worship we focus the power and meaning of the transcendent on us as a faith community in ways that are different and difficult to achieve as an individual in communion alone with God. The power of the church is its capacity to focus the light of the divine on us and on our world, revealing things we did not see unaided. The church – the metaphorical telescope between God and humanity -- matters. Like telescopes -- churches need to be maintained and from time to time modified and renewed. The eyepieces and mirrors need to be cleaned of the film that builds up. Sometimes the mirrors have to be readjusted or reground when the area around the telescope changes and there is more ambient light – new filters and other devices need to be added. Like telescopes, churches must be maintained and renewed. This is what I submit we do when we adopt a budget -- in that act we are committing ourselves to make the church here the best possible reflector of the light of God back to our world under our circumstances. In the best of times it is not easy to do this. The best we can do is to thoughtfully take into account past lessons, look to the experiences of similar organizations and listen for God’s voice – for indeed God is still speaking -- when we to try and figure out how to be that reflector of God’s love, mercy and justice into the world. As we all know this year has been an especially challenging one – a veritable perfect financial storm descended on our nation and buffeted this church too. For the last few months a special committee has labored hard and thoughtfully to close the gap between our revenues and our expenses mindful of an endowment that has suffered a significant decline. The thoughtful product of their efforts will be presented to you shortly. As we think about the budget let us keep in mind that we can’t anticipate everything; there will be surprises down the road. This budget is a tool to help us adjust our vision – our telescope -- to keep as best we can our hearts and minds focused on where God’s light is needed most in our lives, in the life of this faith community and in the life of our world –locally, nationally and globally. Amen
Tom Friedman has observed that the world is flat. We have learned that for ourselves when we find ourselves speaking with someone in South Asia about how to fix our Dell computer. But Friedman is wrong in an important sense. Who here has been to the beach and looked out on a clear day to the edge of the horizon? Is what you see 50 miles away? More than 50? Less -- perhaps only 20? It’s actually about 7 miles that one can see from sea level to sea level – because of the earth’s curvature. We can’t always see what’s coming. And sometimes all we can see are the dirty dishes on our living room table. |
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