Story Saturday

I'm almost never afraid anymore.  For the longest time it seemed that any task could instill fear in me when needed to be performed in Ukrainain.  I was always afraid I wouldn't know the right word, or I would mix up my cases and embarrass myself.

I still do all of those things, they just don't scare me anymore.

I get most of the way through a rather long paragraph of information and realize that I have no clue how to say suffocate in Ukrainian, and so I prattle on for a bit longer and finally mime out the rest.  Everyone shares a good laugh at my expensive and we move on with our lives.

I was visiting a friend's village - and his mother recommended that I go visit the school and speak to all of the students.  Now, in America we would never do this.  I can just imagine a Mexican immigrant coming to our school and insisting on speaking to all of the Spanish students.  I do, however, have some experience and a few titles behind my English Teacher desk; and I distinctly remember Nazar sharing story after story of the loons they invited to come and speak to his class - so I knew I would fit in.

One loon explained to Nazar's class why they should never add sugar to tea.  They should taste the actual herbs and spices of the blend of tea.  Apparently this was shared during an all-school assembly time, and apparently he used 45 minutes to convey this point.  And to whit, Nazar still refuses sugar in his tea.

And, so, it felt quite natural to march into the school and ask to speak to the director.  Of course I was well received and invited to speak to all of the classes.  The students cleaned each classroom before I entered, and were all wonderfully polite.  The oldest students were absolutely terrified to practice their English, and together we mostly spoke Ukrainian.

It was the younger students, the eighth class and younger who spoke fluently and confidently in English.  They asked me all kinds of questions that would be much to personal to ask a stranger in America - but fit right in here.

In Ukrainian school's it's altogether miraculous to find an intelligent boy.  All of the girls are regarded as bright students, but the entire male population is fitted with dunce caps in Elementary school and they wear them straight through their second doctoral degree.  Of course, in the village the boys miss a tremendous amount of school because they are needed in the fields - so girls do get much more classroom time.  There are other reasons, too.  Classroom time is neatly planned around rote-memorization and recitals.  Girls excel in these tasks, and girls are rewarded for excelling.

It doesn't seem to matter how naturally intelligent a boy is, the second he is put in a room of female students and female teachers he becomes an idiot.

Each classroom has an icon at the head of the room.  This fascinates me.  I remember my third grade teacher kept a Bible on his desk and reminding us occasionally that it was his right to do so.  When I began teaching at the University, I was given a small book of prayers of the saints to read at the beginning of lessons.  But, I was most fascinated most by the icons.  There really isn't any rhyme or reason for which icon to hang.  I guess it would make more sense to me if each room had Jesus, or even Mary - but some rooms had random saints, Ukrainian nationalist saints, or others I didn't know of.

It was the 11th form classroom whose icon fascinated me the most.  The icon was larger than life - it filled half of a wall, really.  The icon of Mother Mary breastfeeding baby Jesus.  Her ample bosom seemed to spill out into the room of pubescent students.  I can't imagine who was so inspired to buy this and hang it in a room filled with young men.  It was just so incredibly distracting.  The entire time I tried to talk about grammar and such, my eyes just kept going back to that icon.  The way it seemed that the eyes of both Mary and suckling Jesus followed you no matter where you went in the room.

And standing in front of a room full of students who wouldn't speak English to me, and being chased by more than the eyes of a couple of saints, I immediately remembered what it was like to be afraid again.

Wordless Wednesdays

This is a tank.  The sign is also ironicly funny. 

Story Saturday

I had to wait until the next day to get my results.  I asked Pastor Volodya to go with me to the next appointment.  His vocabulary is a bit larger than mine between our two languages - but he wouldn't be my interpreter - just another friend.

We were given the MRI scans in a large brown envelope and sent upstairs to the doctors office.  We were early, so I pulled out my scans.

It was like a branch of broccoli sticking out between two teeth.  Tiny, yet completely undeniable in every way - with no medical training I could see the herniated disc popping out.  This was not good.

When the doctor pulled out the scan, I just watched his eyes.  They winced when they came to the slide I had noticed.  He tried to play it cool, but I knew it was bad.  He drew a picture of the scoliosis in my spine, and explained that the combination of my crooked spine and my incredible weight problem had caused this.

Valodya believes innately that all Christians should have rockin'-bods.  He doesn't believe that a Christian should be on the heavy side, and he always shares a look of disgust when I eat anything sweet or anything at all really.  As soon as the doctor began discussing a diet plan, I immediately regretted bringing Valodya.  I wished that Den or Olya had been with me - they at least could have playfully teased rather than judgmentally reproved.
 
I knew my life would be a living hell after this.  Long after the pain in my back had faded, Volodya would be pressing and pushing me about my girth.  What upsets me most, is that I am not even large by American standards.  Compared to most of Minnesota I'm trim and petite.

As we left, Valodya said, "Do you think that Doctor is a Jew?"  I wish that the written word could fully capture the intonation of disgust registering in his voice, - that you could draw a crooked nose above words to symbolize a genocidal tone -  but, sadly - that's all up to your imagination.  I weakly responded, "Yes, I think so."  And he volleyed, "Good.  That's very good ... Let's go for a run."

Tonight at Pilgrims, we are having a fun night.  We've had so many challenges and setbacks this year, and we hope to end on a lighter note.  We will do a scavenger hunt and end with pizza.  It should be delightful.

The one catch is that the groups will be tied together for the scavenger hunt.  It should be delightful.

"My best friend growing up was my next door neighbor.  We did everything together.  Alex was two years older than me, and our older siblings were the oldest kids in the neighborhood, so they were in charge.  We always played wonderful group games together and had a great time.

One day, Alex and I began a conversation about our religious understandings.  Specifically, we began arguing about which of our families was more religious.  I had never seen Alex in church before, and because at this point in my life I assumed that there was only one church in the universe, I assumed that meant that Alex didn't go to church.

He explained that he went to the other big Protestant church down the road from the one I went to.  I explained that my mother was the organist at my church.  He explained that his mother was also an organist and played the organ at his church.  We continued discussing the involvement of each of our family members to try and decide which of us was from the more religious family.

It was an odd game for children to play, but it is an even odder game for adults to play.

History has recorded many wars fought throughout the centuries between different groups and factions within the church.  There has been much division.  This is the reason that Pilgrims is proudly inter-confessional.  We believe in Unity of the body.  We believe that we are better together than we are apart.

Certainly we have disagreements, and arguments, and occasionally we raise our voices.  It doesn't happen often, but sometimes it does.  We choose to live together in community and to figure these things out.  It would be easier to just all stay separated, but we choose to take the much harder path of being together.

Alex and I were opposites in every way.  He runs ultra-marathons today, just as an example of how different we are!  But, our families lived side by side and we were together through good times and bad times.

God has brought us together as a community, and whether we always agree or not, we understand that God has brought us together for a reason.  The Bible talks about friendship, and says that a cord of three strands is not easily broken.

Can I have two volunteers?

God calls us together.  We are here for each other.  When times are tough, we hold each other up.  I can't tell you how many times a phone call, message, or prayer from someone in this community has lifted me up and made me stronger.  God binds us together as one people, and we leave this place to face the world bound together as one people.

Amen.

Wordless Wednesdays

Story Saturday

Some weeks later, my back is still not feeling much better.  While we have tried most of the folk remedies not involving "eye of toad and tail of newt", my friend Lyubomir finally called a doctor for me.  I thought about taking a translator with me, but decided against it.  It seemed like a doctor's visit would be more exotic without a translator.

Somewhere in the middle of my appointment when I was explaining my "slipped capital femural epyphysis" operation - I really wish I had brought one.  Thankfully, the clinic had the internet and google translate knows all.

My doctor was a short, hairy fellow.  He certainly could have been middle-eastern, but his name was pure Ukrainian nationalist.  I wondered if he was perhaps ersatz - like the Chinese-American doctor named Chris(tmas) Carol.  But, he was very pleasant to talk to - and we talked for over 40 minutes.  My friend had recommended a private, Catholic clinic.  It was miles above the state-owned hospitals.  It was modern, clean, and inexpensive by my standards.  The doctor gladly repeated himself three times whenever it was needed.  He asked a lot of questions, and when he found out that my mom had undergone back surgery, he immediately sent me down to get an MRI.

As I walked down the bright, clean hallway - it morphed into the most hideous, Soviet prison my mind could imagine.  It suddenly dawned on me that I had never really gone to the doctor alone for anything serious before.  Then it dawned on me that perhaps something was seriously wrong - and I felt so incredibly alone.

I texted Olya, one of my closest friends, and asked her to come and sit with me.  She texted back that she was in Poland.  It was cavalier, one of those, "Olya can't come to the phone right now because she's in Poland" messages.  I didn't want to call any of the students from the student center and get the gossip cart rolling - and I nervously clicked through my contact list to think of someone outside the community who might be free and willing to come sit at the clinic with me.
 
My friend Den's name popped up.  We met through my friend Valya who is fashionable and hip and who know's everyone who is anyone in this city.  Den works for a film festival, and looks like that's about right.  Den looks a little bit like Johnny Depp, but not so very masculine; and when he talks he sounds a bit like a self-conscious Truman Capote.  He's a new friend, but very fun to be around. I enjoy spending time with Den because we both get to practice language - but it is never forced.  We will talk in Ukrainian and I forget and start into English until he forgets and we switch back and forth this way.  It never feels like I am giving an English lesson or taking a Ukrainian lesson.
 
He promised he would be waiting for me when I finished the MRI.  And immediately my fears subsided a bit - which is good because it was at this point that they pulled me into the room.

They put me into a small closet and the attendant mumbled something.  Thankfully, I've had enough screening and examinations to know the drill and quickly changed out of my clothes into the paper poncho.

Boy, does being being squeezed into a paper-thin, plexi-clear, paper poncho designed for a tiny Ukrainian make me forget that I actually speak Ukrainian.  The nurse came and asked me a series of very serious, ominous questions.  His tone imbued each one with a sense of life or death, and yet it was as if I had just landed in this country that morning.  The only thought running through my head was, "I need an adult!" - and finally he switched into English and asked me if I had ever had an MRI before.  I said yes and we proceeded to the room.

My last MRI had cost 300 times more than this one would - and the only difference was I had listed to Bach during it.  This room was filled with odd techno-music.  I thought this was bizarre - but when the machine startled it's rattles and poundings, it seemed to fit the music nicely.

I fell asleep instantly and was relieved forty minutes later to get to put my clothes back on.  Den was waiting out in the lobby as promised.  I sat down next to him and we talked a little bit about what might be wrong.  I looked up and noticed that the woman working in the coat room was staring at us.  We must have looked an odd pair, because her expression read, "Don't you know this is a Catholic clinic?"  Den noticed what I was noticing and began to laugh.  "Yes, the woman at reception had the same look when I said that I was not your translator, but just a friend."  We both laughed, which made Scowly McCoatroom very nervous.
 
We sat for a while longer as the sounds of techno music left my ears and coat-room woman's scowl melted away.  And we got up and began the long, slow, walk home.

(to be continued ...) 

and to walk humbly with your God

Luke 18:9-14

Here is the problem that we face when we act justly and love mercy - when we live our life in all the right ways, we tend to get proud and boastful about it.

One pastor wrote about his favorite sermon to preach.  He had never tasted alcohol in his life, and he would often preach against the dangers of alcohol.  He was reading this story in the Bible, when he realized that if a sermon is too easy to preach, he probably shouldn't be preaching it.  He was so proud of his accomplishment of staying away from alcohol, that he thought the rest of his sins were somehow less bad.

As soon as we get our act together, it becomes so easy to begin judging others for not living in the right way. And in this passage, we find Jesus lifting up the man on the ground, and rejecting the man who is so proud.

And so, of the list of three - the list of how we should live our lives, "to talk humbly with your God" is the third and the final.

This is one of those impossibly complicated things to explain, "to walk humbly with your God."

Let's begin with humility.

I'm rather convinced that humility is one of those things that most people just don't understand.  I think that we try and find some way to show humility.  We find some act that is a symbol of humility.

And all of these little actions, they show that we value humility - but they don't make us humble.

I once saw a foot washing ceremony that left me feeling very confused.  A foot washing ceremony is used as a symbol of humility and service.  I have seen really beautiful services that included a foot washing.  In this one, a very wealthy leader of a large community had invited one of the church leaders up on the stage.  They were both in suits.  The leader rolled up his sleeves, and prepared to wash the other man's feet.  But, he noticed that he was still wearing his watch, and it was obviously a very expensive watch.  He gently took it off, and waved for someone to come over and take it from him before the ceremony.  One of his staff members ran over and dutifully held on to the watch throughout the service.  After the other man's feet were washed, the leader took his expensive watch and put it back on.

And, in this service, who showed humility?  It was the staff member who was a servant to the wealthy leader.

Do you want to grow humble - go sit on the street in the cold and beg for change.  Crawl on crutches and maimed legs from place to place and wait for the kindness of strangers to make things better for you.

When you are humiliated, you will be made humble.  When the whole class joins the lecturer in laughing at your mistake, you will feel what it means to be humble.  

When I have gone with the group that does the feeding ministry, I have seen some really humble people.  I have seen people who have been humbled by their difficult circumstances.  Christina, will now come up and share some words about the feeding ministry which will be next week.

In the church, we value humility; when we meet a truly humble person - we are in shock.  I don't know how many of you had a chance to meet Hans Vaxby when he was in Lviv this summer.  He is retiring this year after serving as the Bishop of the United Methodist church in Eurasia.  When you meet Hans, he immediately asks you to just call him Hans.  He doesn't like to be called Bishop or Mr. Vaxby.  He prefers the simple use of his first name, Hans.  He just exudes humility.  In everything he does, he just does it humbly.  He gladly steps aside so that others can step up.

As Christians, we work to imitate Christ.  It is  Christ hanging naked on the cross that shows us what true humility is.  They ripped out his beard.  They beat him.  They hung a sign over his head which read "King of the Jews"  They humiliated him.  And humility is that he forgave them.  In humility, we never try to boast about our own accomplishments and good deeds.  They are all rags compared with the glory of Christ.

My favorite hymn comes from the Spanish language.  What it says is simple: When the poor ones who have nothing share with strangers, then we know that God still goes that road with us.  When the thirsty give water to others, then we know that God still goes that road with us.  When we show humility, we show that God is real, and that God is by our side.

Matthew 28:16-20

When we read the scriptures that record the great commission, we read Jesus calling us to go out into the world and to share the good news of Jesus Christ.  In the English version, they translated the first word "Go" as a direct command.  But, this wasn't entirely correct.  It would be better translated, "As you are going"  This great commission, this call to go into all the world - this is a call for us to keep walking on the road we are on.  This is a call for us to live our lives - to go to the university, to show up to work, to go on vacation, to eat dinner with friends - and in doing those things, to walk humbly with our God.  We are not called to stand on the street corners and yell and scream about our faith, we are called to humbly live life and through that, invite others to join this road with us.

And this same scripture, it ends with the final thought, "I am with you always"

In days of great success and in days of terrible failure - God is with you.  When I am able to live out my faith fully, and when I am a terrible witness of God's love - God is with me.  Like the thirsty who give water, when we share our time and energy with this ministry - God is with us.

As we walk in humility, God is with us.

Wordless Wednesdays

The coat room under the staircase at the University.  Also, Hogwarts. 

Story Saturday

The pain was immediate and entirely convincing.  I had only bent down to pet my cat, but as the pain shot through my spine, I lunged for my bed.  After twenty minutes of total immobility I called to my roommate and asked him to hand me my computer so I could call my sister.  My closest friends reference my roommate as my other cat.  It's nothing he has done wrong, nor is it the way I treat him - it's simply our communication patterns.  He doesn't speak any English and my Ukrainian is hit or miss on my best days.  When we don't understand each other, Vittya simply walks away and finds something more interesting, like a ball of string or a laser point on the wall.

After I called him back and tried again, this time in Ukrainian, I explained that I was in a lot of pain.  Vittya's Ukrainian instincts kicked in and immediately he offered me a dozen wives tale remedies.  He called his mother who had the other 27 he could write down.  I called my other cat back into the room again and this time he handed me my computer so I could call my sister, the doctor.

I don't know why I'll never trust wives tales.  Maybe I feel that for medical advice to be real, you have to really fight to get it out of your doctor.
 
Rebecca sighs in a loud, prolonged way anytime I begin a medical question.  I wonder what it would look like if I did the same each time I was asked to pray at a family function.  I can imagine Debbie rolling her eyes at being asked to pick out a note on a piano.  This time, I'm clearly on the edge of tears and Rebecca finds it in her heart to render a diagnosis.  "It's not cancer."  This is really progress in getting a diagnosis from her, and I calm down enough for her to explain what probably happened.

Vittya came back with an additional 47 folk-remedies from his grandmother; and I sent him out to go fetch some tylenol and an ice-pack.  He cocks his head to the side, and I try the sentence again in Ukrainian.  I'm amazed at how slowly my brain works when I'm in pain.

After three tries with the Ukrainian word for ice-pack, I phone a Ukrainian friend to translate.

I thank Rebecca and she prods me to move my toes - a feat that I am still capable of - and she tells me that I'll be fine and to stop being a baby.  Exactly what I had hoped to hear from her.

Vittya offers to begin calling his aunts for more remedies, but I just thank him for the ice-pack and try to get some rest.  His confused look tells me that probably after I rest I will be able to speak in Ukrainian again.

(to be continued ...)

to love mercy

We are told to love mercy.

And who loves mercy?  People who have been shown much mercy, love mercy.


When we think of someone who has been shown much mercy, we cannot help but think of King David.  It was during the time when the king should have been off to war, but this king stayed home.  And when he saw Bathsheba bathing on the roof, he called his servants to go and collect her for him.  Although David had many wives and concubines, he wanted Bathsheba and he took her.

Her husband, Uriah, was at war.  When she became pregnant, David called her husband back hoping that everyone would be bad at math and he wouldn't get caught.  But, Uriah refused to leave the gates of the palace.  He begged to return to the battlefield to serve his country.  David sent him back, with secret instructions for the general to send him first and have everyone else pull back - ensuring his death.

An adulterer and a murderer.  Shevchenko wrote about David in his well known poem, Kavkaz.

Бо благоденствує! У нас
Святую Біблію читає
Святий чернець і научає,
Що цар якийсь-то свині пас
Та дружню жінку взяв до себе,
А друга вбив. Тепер на небі.
Об бачите, які у нас
Сидять на небі! Ви ще темні,
Святим хрестом не просвіщенні,
У нас навчіться!.. 

These are the kind of people who are sitting in heaven.  And what is more, David was known as a man after God's own heart.  David was known for his goodness and faithfulness.  David was shown mercy by God.



We are guilty of tremendous sin, and our punishment is death.

We deserve that death, but Christ hangs on the cross in the way of our punishment.  This is what we deserve, but our of God's great love - we receive something else.



Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.  People who love mercy, they show mercy.

We are not ashamed or embarrassed to be in need of mercy.  We love the mercy that God shows us.  When I stand before you, dear friends, I feel so entirely inadequate.  I feel like I don't have anything to say, or that my life is too messed up - and I realize that a lot of those feelings stem from some embarrassment of all the mercy God has shown me.  God's mercy is something that we should love and delight in.  I need a tremendous amount of grace and mercy from God.  I stand before you as a sinner, who knows the great love of a merciful God.  And, I think that's a pretty great place to be.

It's hard to understand the exact words used in this verse.  This idea of mercy is complicated.  The word in the original Greek is Chesed (хесед).  It is this idea of loving kindness.




The first time I remember hearing about the slavic world, was when I was a teenager.  Americans are known around the world for not knowing much about the rest of the world - and sadly, this is true.  When I was a teenager, a family friend, Diane, came to one of my classes with a guest.  This man worked for the government and worked with international aide.  It was so interesting, because at first he began talking about coming to Ukraine in the early 90s to help the poor Ukrainians.  He told us about the collective farms, and that the tractors they used were very inefficient - they left a lot of the crop behind on the ground.  So, this man brought tractors in from the US that were much more efficient.

And this is often our understanding of justice that we learned about last week.  There is a problem, and we go in and we fix it.

It was the story I had grown up hearing, about how America helped other countries.  But this man, he went on - and he told us the rest of the story. Before his arrival, after the inefficient tractors had gone through, old women had followed behind and picked up the rest.  They had gleaned the field.  The had sold some of this on the roadside and had taken the rest home for their families to eat.  The story of Ruth is a story of mercy.  .  These women without a kinsman, without a man to provide for them, they were left to the mercy of the community.  This community could have left them for dead, but instead they were kind enough to allow them to glean behind the farmers.  Ruth's mother-in-law is named Naomi.  Her name meant sweet, but when she was left alone without a man to provide for her, she asked to be called "bitter" instead.  It is through this that Ruth meets Boaz and is able to provide for her mother-in-law.  It is through their mercy to Ruth's mother-in-law, that she returned to being known as Naomi.  Through pain and suffering she is made bitter, through mercy she is made sweet.

This American continued the story in a way that really surprised me.  With the new, efficient, American tractors; there was nothing left for the old women to glean.  These women began to suffer terribly.  They lost income and they lost food.  This man went on to explain to us the way that he and his team had ruined the lives of these women by not paying attention.  He saw a problem and fixed it, but he created many, many more problems.

But our sense of doing justice must be tempered by our love for mercy.  Mercy is tenderness and gentleness.  If this man had spent more time studying and observing, and listening to the people he wanted to help - he could have shown mercy to these older women as well.

It was such a powerful lesson to me about consequences of our actions.  That even when we try to do good, we can still cause harm.  When we talked about justice, the verb was "to act" or "to do"  when Micah talks about Mercy, he isn't calling us to go and to do something.  There isn't an action that is part of this.  Mercy is one of those things you can't plan for.  You have to love mercy every day. You have to joyfully receive God's mercy, and in doing both of those - you will be able to show mercy as well.  


My grandfather is a big, tall, strong man.  All of my life, he has seemed to be bigger and taller and stronger than all of my friend's grandfathers.  He's got a big smile and thick glasses, and people almost always like him.  He makes strangers smile and remembers their names.  When he was in school, his nickname was Radar.  His glasses were very thick, but he wasn't allowed to wear them on the football field. But,  It seemed he always knew where the football was, and he was always one of the best players.  My grandfather is very Italian, and their stereotype is that they will do anything for those they love.   He and my grandma were high-school sweethearts.  One day, he was walking my grandma to her house and another boy pulled up in his truck.  The boy said that he was in love with Elaine, and my grandpa said, "Well, so am I - the only difference is that she loves me back."  The other boy tried to run him over with his truck.  I just assume that the other boy spent some time in the hospital  after that.

My grandparents have been married for almost 65 years.  As my grandma has gotten older, she has lost her memory.  She usually doesn't recognize me, and often forgets who my mom is as well.  Sometimes she doesn't even recognize her own husband.  My grandfather was always the stereotype of a 1950s husband.  He earned the paycheck, and grandma did everything around the house.  When grandma started forgetting recipes and burning food, grandpa learned how to cook all of their favorite foods and how often to serve them.  He washes all the dishes.  He keeps the house spotless.  He does the laundry and irons the clothes.  And he doesn't correct or argue with grandma.  When he is reading the mail she just brought in, and she decides she should check for the mail, he watches out the window to make sure she is safe.   He helps her all day long and makes sure she is comfortable.

My grandpa was always so rough and strong and manly.  It surprises our whole family to see how gentle and tender he is with grandma now.  I think because we here are all so young, it's hard to think about love in very real ways.  We think about love in terms of lust and affection.  We think about doing fun things with someone special.  I don't think when we are young and we are in love, that we think about helping someone in and out of bed and sitting with them through scary doctors appointments.  We probably don't think about real love and the real ways that we will show it when it really happens.

This word, Chesed, it is used in Genesis 20:13 to describe Abraham and Sarah's relationship when they are both well into old age.  And this is our example of showing mercy to one another.  We must care deeply about each other's feelings.

When my grandparents were married 65 years ago, this wasn't something they were thinking about.  They weren't thinking about their old age.  They were young and in love.  But each day, they grew in love and kindness.  They learned to show each other mercy.  And, when grandma's memory began to fail, to show mercy was the natural reaction for grandpa.

When we love mercy, we care more for the feelings of others than for our own.  We show mercy because we accept mercy from God.  Go forth this day, and show others the mercy you have received.  

Wordless Wednesdays

My Ukrainian teacher and my cat, Mefodyi.

Story Saturday

I'm certain she was the old woman I had watched in the church.  I love when older adults begin conversations with me, but it is a rare occasion when I notice an older person before they notice me.  I was waiting for a bus in a small town, and there were no benches at the bus stop.  I was on vacation at the time, so I plopped down on a stone wall and began reading a book.  In Lviv, or somewhere where people knew me I would not sit on a dirty, cold surface - I have a reputation to keep - but out here in the village, it seemed less harmful.

 This grandmother clearly felt I was playing Russian roullete with my life by sitting directly on the cold stone.  Her general opinion of young people was on the low side - I think most older people who haunt emptier and emptier churches have a low estimation of young people.  I try and be nice.  She says that she has even seen young people wearing flip flops this fall.  I try to not convey by my facial expressions that I had been tempted to work on my toe tan today as well.

And then she asked the inevitable question.  "How old do you think I am?"

I've never been asked this question by an American, but in this corner of the world it's a fun game to liven up beet picking season.
 
I usually pick an age, divide by two and then add ten years.  She looked about 120 - so I guessed 70.  She was 78.  I use to just take 10 or 15 years off of my guess, but that's too risky.

And long after she had shuffled away, I crept back up to my seat on the stone wall.  Through my gloves, I looked at my knuckes which, even through the thick leather of my gloves, show the arthritis of someone much older than my years.  And I wonder how many more winters I'll survive here.  I can imagine going to my high school reunion in a decade and holding an ancient bell-horn to my wrinkled, fuzzy ear and asking my former classmates, "How old do you think I am?"

To act Justly

To act justly - part one of a three part sermon series.

Luke 18:2-8

We begin with this story to talk about the idea and concept of justice.  Justice is a hard concept to talk about, because there are so many different ideas.

What does justice look like in our world?  This is hard to determine because everyone has a different idea of what justice should look like.

Perhaps we should begin with what Micah was probably referencing.

God had laid down very fair laws for the Jewish people to follow.

For example, God had laid down very fair laws regarding wealth and land.  There should be a "year of Jubilee" every 49 years in which all of the land and the wealth was re-divided.  All debts would be forgiven and all stock-piles emptied.  The idea, of course, was the final knowledge that God was the giver of all good things.  The land and everything on it belonged to God, and no one could sell God's land for all eternity.  If you were wealthy because of your faithfulness to God, your wealth would quickly be returned to you.  If you were in debt up to your eyeballs - you had the chance to start over and try to be more faithful to God.  Historians believe the Jewish people did this ... only once.  Oddly, the Samaritans who were despised by the Jews followed this idea for thousands of years.  But, for the Jewish people,  it was too much for the rich and the powerful to give those things away - so they created some symbol to replace it and they continued the celebration without anything real to celebrate.

It was similar with many of the laws God had handed down.  The Jewish people would follow and delight in the laws set down before their God for some time, and then they would begin to go their own way.  This cycle continues over and over, and when the people ignore God; things grow worse and worse for them.
But in this call for just acts, we see something larger than just following the rules.  We see a greater call to faithful living, and a greater call to make things right in the world.  

Micah writes as someone whose town had been destroyed by the enemy - and that enemy had in turn been destroyed by God's hand.  And yet, Micah isn't talking about this long-range God-sized justice.  He isn't talking about the Justice of God destroying our enemies.  He is talking about what we as people must do.  As a community and as individuals.  

And the world asks, "What is justice?" and our response is usually, "to follow the rules" or when asked what is justice, we see visions of our enemies lying dead in the path of God - but Micah doesn't hold up either of these things as the true justice.  The justice God calls us to is something bigger and grander than either of these two visions.  Justice is when God's shadow falls on all of the earth.  It is when all is as it should be.  And this justice, it is God's justice.  God will accomplish this - and God will use us to accomplish it.
So when Micah says, "Act justly" - this is talking about us personally.  It's not even talking about the bigger, giant changes needed in the world.  It's talking about us.  That we as individuals and as a group should act justly.

When we act justly, we act as though the world around us is imaginary.  We choose the way of justice in the face of the bribery, corruption, and scandal that surround us.  We don't say - well, I'll sit around until things get better and then I'll go along with them.

There is an old story of a man walking on the beach.  He notices a young boy walking along the beach coming in the opposite direction.  The young boy stops every few feet and stoops down.  He picks something up, throws it into the ocean and continues on his way.  A few steps later he does the same thing.  Over and over again.  When their paths cross, the old man gives in to his curiosity and asks the young boy what he is doing.  The young boy explains that he is picking up starfish and throwing them back into the Ocean.  The old man understands that the boy is trying to save their lives, but he can remember seeing hundreds of starfish on his walk just today.  He laughs condescendingly and says to the boy, "There are so many starfish, and so many miles of Ocean.  Do you really think you can make a difference?"  The boy stoops over, picks up a starfish and throws him back into the ocean. "I made a difference for that one, didn't I?"

When we act justly, we are a people of action.  We go out and we do something.  In our own small way, we act.  We speak out in the name of the poor, we give voice to the voiceless.  We challenge our governments to make no laws that tear rights away from people - even people we might disagree with or might not like.  We work to make the world better in any small way that we can.  

When we choose to act justly, we understand that this is our small part.  We have no audience.  We are not trying to impress anyone.  We are imperfect, we are sinful, we often act unjustly.  But that doesn't stop us from believing in a better world and acting in our own small way for justice.

Let me give you an example of a small thing I do to act justly.  I am especially opposed to bribes when it comes to education.  It hurts the entire country when someone can get a degree through bribery and not through their own hard work and merit.  There isn't much I can do to end bribery.  I'm not in a position of power to refuse bribes, and while I refuse to pay them - this often leaves me in a very hard place.  In talking with many students, I heard very good things about the department of translation studies.  I did some more research and heard from every student that none of the teachers in the department would accept bribes.  Everyone who graduates from that department has earned his or her diploma.  I volunteer in that department because I am proud that they do the right thing.  In my own small way, I can reward the just choices of the department and, as a native speaker of English,  help to make it a little bit better and a little bit stronger.  This is not a huge step.  This is not some beautiful scene in a movie where the protagonist stares down the nazi tanks.  This is just one young person doing something small to act justly.

The movies, they always have the same plot - that there will come some day when you have to make some decision to do something really great.  And, this idea is purely an invention of Hollywood.  You cannot choose in the dire moment to become brave and to act justly to save the world.  Each morning, when you wake and put your socks on you must make the save decision.  You must decide to live each day with the prayer "thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."  You much choose each day to act justly.

Olena Teliha, the Ukrainian poet who was executed at Babin Yar, had many chances to escape to safety.  Once, a friend asked her why she did not run and protect herself.  She said, "I have told others to stay - and now I must stay myself."  In each small decision to act justly, there is also a large decision to act justly.  Our small, daily decisions - they form who we are.  when we choose each day to live justly, we choose to be people of justice.

I think when we begin down this path that leads to justice, we cannot travel very far without thinking about judgement.  About the way our actions are judged by God and by others.  If we act justly, I can guarantee you that the world will judge us harshly.

Micah's words, they call us to act justly.  In the smallest things, when we act justly - God is preparing us for larger things.  And in the end, when we have gone beyond this world; we will hear the words - well done my good and faithful servant.  When we act justly, we will be judged rightly.  We will be able to stand before our God with open hearts and share in God's embrace.

To act justly means to get our hands dirty.  It means to stoop down into the world of the unjust, and to bring back one small thing onto the surface of the just.  When we act justly, we do not care what punishment the world might have for us, we only care what good God has in store for this world.  To act justly means to act first - to act long before it is cool, popular, or even safe.

On the day before she was executed by Nazi Germany for distributing anti-nazi flyers at her university, she told the high court, "Somebody, after all, had to make a start. What we wrote and said is also believed by many others. They just don't dare express themselves as we did."  Perhaps the ancient words rang through her ears - "all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

These priests and nuns who walked hand in hand with black protesters for equal rights, they were the first to do that.

When we go and share bread and food with people begging on the streets, we are also making the decision that we believe it is wrong that they must be on the streets.  Someday, this small decision might lead us to bigger decisions.  Perhaps some day, as an adult, you will open your home to someone in need - or you will pass a new law through the Duma to create a more fair system for the poor in Ukraine.  Someday you may be asked to give up something truly precious for others.

Micah reminds us what the Lord requires of us.  This is all that we need to do.  And the first part of that equation is to act justly.

To remind us to act justly, come and place your own handprint on this cloth after you have finished praying.

Wordless Wednesdays

The pumpkins slowly rot, and the decorations that adorned my house in childhood adorn my house in adulthood.  Halloween came and went.  A small group of friends gathered at my house for a small dinner party.  We talked too loud and laughed a lot.  I have always promised myself that I would have a Halloween party at my apartment some day, and even though the dishes still haven't all been washed - I'm glad I kept that promise to myself.  .

I always promised myself that I would have a Guy Fawkes day party every 5th of November, but here is the day and I just don't have the energy for a party.  Jonathan Pound loved this holiday so much.  We would always watch V for Vendetta and have a large group over.  

Almost a month ago, I hurt my back.  With the diagnosis of a herniated disc and a rather scary MRI view of it protruding, I have slowed down significantly.  I've had to put off some of my favorite things, and I've had to take the long view on some issues that at perfect health might have been solved a bit more quickly.

I am about finished with my daily treatments and will be able to begin having treatments every other day.  This will free up a lot of time in my schedule.  These daily treatments have taken five or six hours out of my day (less if I take a taxi to the hospital - the hour tram commute is such a huge waste of time!) for almost two weeks.  I am just sapped of energy, but thankfully - the pain is decreasing.

A new friend, Mikita, fell down a flight of stairs and is in a coma after two operations.  I pray for his recovery, and am reminded again how lucky I am to have my health and to have insurance to cover the medical care.  His family couldn't afford the third operation the doctors recommended.  

My friend Den shared about interning at the psychiatric hospital when he was doing his counseling rotations for his social work masters degree.  I think that when my Ukrainian is stronger that I will go there and volunteer.  I hate hospitals, and I can't imagine living in one.  Den shared that many of the young people are forced to live there because their parents don't agree with their lifestyle choices - so they have them committed.

I have begun re-reading Brennan Manning's "Ragamuffin Gospel."  If you haven't read it, please go and find a copy and read it.  It is such a wonderful book.  It is so good to focus on grace and freedom.   I sometimes think about how much of my Christian education focused on teaching me to be a "good kid."  I wish that I had learned more about grace in Sunday school.  I hope that I teach more about grace in the future.

I've thought about starting a Manning Monday - which I'm almost certain Bill Beatty did at one point, but I'm entirely too tired to check at the moment.  We'll see.

Sermon 10-11-12

James the Less

What scripture do we use to begin tonight?  We will talk about James the Less - and it would be very nice if we could open up our Bibles to a passage of scripture where James stands up and says something.  It would be great if we could get some idea of his personality and faith from some interaction with Jesus - but we can't.  The Bible doesn't record a single word spoken by James the Less.  The Bible doesn't contain one story where he is the hero, or even highlighted as a major player.  We could believe that he never did anything - and that would be sufficient reason to skip over him entirely.

But during the next few weeks we will examine the lives of  the very ordinary men Jesus chose as disciples.  None of them had a doctorate in anything.  Most were poor laborers with calloused hands and difficult lives.  We will take every scrap of information that history records about these men and we will learn how they lived out their faith.

We know the way Peter stepped out of the boat and walked on water, but standing terrified in the boat behind him were 11 other men.  We are probably a lot more like those others than we are like Peter.  We can say that we are too shy or introverted and ignore the lessons Peter's life teaches us - but after these next few sermons we hope you won't have any excuse not to dig deeper into your faith.

James the less.

James was called by Jesus to be one of the twelve disciples.  This was an honor that only 11 other men had.  But, he had the unfortunate problem of having the same name as someone else and he was a little bit younger, shorter, or both.

And when we read the letter that the other James wrote to the early church, we are inspired and moved by his words.  They are some of the most forceful and inspiring words given after Jesus' resurrection.  And I imagine that James the Less felt a little hidden by the shadow of James - you know, the great one.

- 1 Timothy 4:12
- James 1:2-9

Here's what we know about James the Less.  He was probably related to Jesus.  His father, Cleopas, was probably Mary's brother.  When the Bible talks about "the other Mary" it is often talking about James Mother.  She would have been Mary's sister-in-law and she was a constant and devout follower of Jesus.  And that would make James the Less, Jesus' cousin.  Probably Jesus' younger cousin - or shorter cousin.

When I first arrived in Ukraine I was a little overwhelmed by all of the Maryannas and Olyas in our group.  And it was amusing when Erica Oliveira came and people had such a hard time keeping the two separated.

And in Jesus' day, people didn't regularly have last names.  People were known by their father's name or by the town they come from or by some defining feature.  Which Jesus?  Jesus of Nazareth.  Which Simon? Simon from the political group known as the Zealots.  Which James?  James the Less.  

A name is very important.  Hearing your own name is one of the most comforting things to the human soul.  When I lived in South Korea people couldn't pronounce my name.  They called me Michaer.  I absolutely couldn't live with the idea that I never heard my name.  I remember Dale telling me about how many hours he spent practicing saying Olya, so he could say his beloved's name correctly.  Names are so important.

Names define who we are and what we will accomplish. and I can't imagine that James the Less was able to live without a little bit of an inferiority complex.
----
Growing up my sister was simply perfect.  She was just talented at everything.  She had perfect pitch and could sing any song.  She had perfect rhythm and could pick up any instrument and play it well.  She liked school and did well in school.

I grew up in my sister's shadow.  Every teacher that I had in school had already had my sister and assumed that I would be just like her.  I was given an instrument to play and it was assumed that I would like to play that instrument.  I hated playing musical instruments.  I never really had an ear for music.  I wasn't good in school and didn't make good marks.  It wasn't until I went to University and was able to make my own mark that I was able to live outside of the shadow of my sister.

And I imagine that James the Less always felt a little bit ... well ... less that the other James.  He always lived in the Shadow of the other James who was in the group.
---
But we know a bit more about James the Less.  We know that they started calling him James son of Alpheous (perhaps the region where Cleopas is from) and that when that got confusing, they began to call him James the Just, James the brother (cousin) of Jesus, until they all started calling him Bishop James.

The man who was always in the shadow of another, went on to become Bishop of Jerusalem in the decades following Jesus' resurrection.
  
If he had been content to be saddened by something as minor as a title, he would have never risen to greatness.

We are more than our limitations.

Young, old, rich, poor, it is human nature that we label things.  We are a society and we create tiers of influence.  This isn't wrong.  But, we are not limited by these things.  When you get your first job - and you work for a month without any pay and everyone is mean to you and you have to do all the jobs that no one else wants to do - you must live into the lesson of James the Less.  You must do that job to the very best of your ability.
 
You must scrub the floors and serve tea and coffee, and do all the jobs that no one else wants to do - and when you do all of these things without complaint - people will notice your good work.  This is the way that we serve Christ, by serving others in the most humble ways.
  ---
Mother Teresa is known throughout the world for her great acts of service, spiritual presence, and devotion to Christ.
 
She had many titles to choose from - Mother Teresa, signaling her position as head of a religious order.  Nobel leaureate.  Others called her a living saint.  Dying lepers called her Jesus in human form.

And how did Mother Teresa refer to herself?  When this incredible woman of faith, this woman who changed the world and gave a new face to the Catholic church - this woman who gave away everything and inspires generations of believers to give up everything in service to God.  How did she refer to herself?

God's littlest.  She refered to her own small stature and her own small faith.

And in the darkest corners of Mother Teresa's soul, there were cobwebs of doubt and confusion.  She constantly struggled with issues of faith - she sometimes was even unsure if God was real.  But, in the end, over and over again she returned to God's greatness and resumed her position as God's littlest.

As people of faith, we must constantly remind ourselves of our own small stature and small faith.  The word Christian was used to mock the first followers - it meant, "Little Christ" and it wasn't a compliment.  Perhaps we would all benefit by putting the words "the Less" after our names.

Perhaps, like James, we would be reminded of how Big our God is when we are reminded of how small we are.  Because it is in our littleness that God's greatness is revealed.

There is a lot of debate about who wrote the Book of James in the Bible - and some people really believe it was James the Less.  To me, it is important only that it is written by one of the twelve disciples.  It was written by one of the twelve, and then re-written by a Greek disciple of the author some decades later.

But, the author begins the letter with these words of explanation, "James, a slave of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ."

Whether this book was written by James the Great, or James the Less - the most important title that either could find for their lives is "slave."

You are a supremely talented group of young people.  Some day you will run this country.  You will make this country better, stronger, and more independent.  You will change the course of history.  You will run companies, manage businesses, teach at universities, and sit on important committees.  And I pray that for all of your life the most important title you ever find will be "slave."

Amen.  

Faith, hope, and charity

I was attending one Sunday school class in the states via Skype a few weeks ago.  It was a bit awkward, because they asked me to be there, but the teacher had prepared a lesson and I didn't want to push him aside.  So I sat in my living room in front of my computer and listened to the lesson on 1 Corinthians 13.

My problem with people who watch church on TV is that they miss the element of community.  I'm sure that if I knew this teacher personally, I would have enjoyed his lesson much more.

I remember from my days with the Curtis Trogdon Wesley Class, that as each teacher took his or her turn, that different people had different skills as a teacher.  Everyone had different faults.  Some spoke too slowly, others prepared poorly, still others (present company included!!!) couldn't remember the roving, rotating schedule and were often surprised into the pulpit and asked to lecture on Leviticus on more than one occasion.

I never heard a bad lesson.

One of my mentors told me once, "If you love your church and your church loves you - you can't preach a bad sermon."  I can't imagine the horror and pain of standing in front of a church that hates you.

And I was very bored by this man's lesson.  I'm sure he's a nice man.  I'm sure that his Sunday School class just loves him dearly and they all loved his lesson.  But, his highlight was on the final verses and his translation had "Faith, Hope, and Charity..."  and I had never heard this translation before.  Love is the greatest of these.  It felt so strange to hear that "charity" was the greatest of the three - because to my mind, "charity" wasn't even on the list.

Because, for me, switching from love to charity really changes the meaning of the text.  And I know that it is complicated because English only has one word for love - but it is simple because English only has one word for love.

And now that I translate from time to time, I understand was an extraordinary and fascinating challenge translating the Bible must have been.  English is such a weak language with so few really great words and so many missing concepts.  Isn't that a strange thought?  We always assume that everything can be expressed in our mother tongue, but in reality each language has it's own weaknesses and faults.

Like, in the Beatitudes, the beginning phrase (blessed are) turns each one into an ironic greeting.  In Ukrainian they are understood as originally spoken - but not in English.  And we aren't even touching on the gigantic cultural differences that separate us from the words of Jesus.  Think about how a firm Calvanist might translate many passages and how an Armenian might translate them differently.  When we read the word "Hell" in the New Testament, Jesus often isn't speaking about the physical place we think of.

And I will be charitable (as it is the greatest of the three!) and concede that Bible translators work in teams of extremely gifted and brilliant people.  I'm not saying they are making mistakes.  I'm not speaking against the authenticity of the Bible.  But, isn't it interesting to think that how we understand the Bible is shaped by our very language and culture.

I am reminded again how easy it is for our language and culture to shape the Gospel instead of allowing the Gospel to shape our language and culture.

The Gospel.
It means Good News.  But, it is a word used in relation to the word Eklesia - a word which has become synonymous with our word "church."  But Eklesia meant "the called out ones."  When a news crier would walk up and down the streets crying out the news, those who gathered around to hear would be called "Eklesia" and if he pronounced Good News it would be called Gospel.

And today we call the people who reside inside the large building (or the large building itself!) the "church."  Not the called out ones, but the gathered and tamed ones who once heard the Good News and responded.  And we have too often reduced the "Good News" into a three minute salvation pitch.

And how different would the Gospel sound to fresh eats without the baggage of a different culture and language.  How fresh and new would this old faith sound without our old buildings and notions.

But, I'll try to remain charitable, it's the most import component of our faith.

Sermon- the woman at the well

John 4:1-30

Jesus shouldn't have stopped to speak to this woman.  

She was a woman, and in their culture it was a terrible offense for a man and a woman to just strike up a conversation.  And beyond that, this woman was from a different racial and religious group.  For a whole host of reasons, Jesus should not have stopped and talked to this woman. 

And Jesus stops and talks to this woman.  

I think it's really so easy to paint Jesus as being very prim and proper.  Because we live in a world with icons of saints and glossy magazines of sinners - it's hard for us to see the real image of Jesus.  Jesus just broke all of the rules.   

John Paul II said, "This is an event without precedent: that a woman, and what is more a “sinful woman,” becomes a “disciple” of Christ."  "

----

I was at a birthday party with a large group of people, many of whom I did not know.  I was sitting with good friends, but one of the girls at the table was a stranger.  All of us talked and laughed and had good birthday party fun - and then the girl I didn't know leaned over and asked, "So what do you do in Ukraine?"  When I explained that I worked with an interconfessional student ministry, she really wanted to finish the conversation.  She and most of her friends are rather progressive and unconventional and don't care so much for religion.  

And I'm reminded of this taboo conversation at the well between a mixed-race woman with a string of lovers and this wandering preacher who would eventually die to save the whole world.  How awkward was this conversation? 

For the woman is was wildly uncomfortable.  You can feel this in her words.  For Jesus it was a wonderful time.  Because Jesus didn't stop to talk to a woman.  Jesus didn't stop to talk to a despised racial minority.  Jesus didn't stop to a sinner famous for her sin.  Jesus stopped to talk to a person.  Jesus stopped to talk to a beloved child of God. 

Jesus asks her for a drink of water.  He doesn't have anything to dip into the well to get the water - so he is asking her to dip her bucket into the water and share with him.  This idea is revolutionary because the very act of drinking from an unclean woman's cup would make Jesus unclean for worship in the Jewish faith.  There's so much chatter in this encounter about this very idea.  Because our faith doesn't have this element of clean and unclean, we miss most of the hidden conversation.  But, this woman's people were desipised by the Jews and she would have know that in their eyes she was unclean.  

It's so amazing that our religion lacks this idea of clean and unclean that for two thousand years people have been trying to put it back in.  They fought to keep people from eating meat offered to idols because it wasn't clean - and Paul fought right back that the Christian faith doesn't hold to these ideas.

  

Because I'll be painfully honest - if ours was a religion of rules and regulations, it might be easier to face the tragedies we have faced.  If we could say "this happened because we sinned too much and we weren't good enough" then we could just behave better and make sure we don't have to face this again.  We could offer up some burnt sacrifice to an idol and atone for our sins - but Jesus calls us to the Way of Life.  Jesus calls us to a much better way, but a much harder way.  Jesus calls us to trust in his goodness.  To know that God has a plan and we do not.  To know that we do not understand.  To be good and loving not because we want an easier life but because we serve a God who is good and loving.  Rules and regulations would be so much easier right now - but God instead gives us grace.  We must accept that grace and all the challenges that come our way we must understand in the framework of that grace. 

I love the way that Jesus pushes the theological arguments aside.  Their religions were seperated by just a few things - but those things were pretty fundamental and they really blocked the people from one another.  Jesus just pushes these theological concerns out of the way and refocuses on what this woman really needs to connect with God. 

And Jesus offers this woman living water.  He offers that she will never be thirsty again.  We are rarely thirsty - for a woman in the desert, thirst is a constant.  When you walk a long distance to get water, you will be thirsty often.  But we feel our own thirst.  We thirst for good things - for justice and mercy.  We thirst for selfish things - for sex, money, and power.  We thirst for basic things - like being able to pray fully again and live into the faith that we still claim.  

Jesus shouldn't have stopped and talked to this woman.  There were so many reasons.  And in a religion of rules, regulations, and warnings - God certainly wouldn't have anything to do with us.  God couldn't interact with our sin and our selfishness.  But in a religion of Grace, Jesus will always stop to talk with us - with sinful little us.  Because God's thirst is that we drink of the living water - that when we connect with God through Jesus Christ, all of our thirst is quenched.   When we live in relationship with God our thirst for justice and mercy will be quenched by God's great call on our lives.  Our thirst for bad things will be filled by the goodness of God, and our basic thirst will be satisfied by daily interaction with God. 

John Paul II continues, "Indeed, once taught, she proclaims Christ to the inhabitants of Samaria, so that they too receive him with faith. This is an unprecedented event, if one remembers the usual way women were treated by those who were teachers in Israel; whereas in Jesus of Nazareth’s way of acting such an event becomes normal".

This woman goes and tells the others.  She starts from her own place of brokeness.  she explains that Jesus knew about her scandalous sins and she explains that Jesus loved anyway.  It's a radical testimony of grace.  She shares with the entire town.  She invites them to drink of the living water.  She invites them to join with Jesus and share in the grace she has discovered.  

Amen.

And the people come to Jesus.  

From our point of weakness and thirst, we may begin to share our own story of our encounter with the Messiah.  We may share with others the living water that streams up from within us.  

This last weekend I went with Valodya and Ira Prokip to the village of Nova Skvaryava. Our mission was to dig potatoes. In the morning, it rained and rained – and I was certain that I wasn’t going to have to pick any potatoes. But, by the middle of the afternoon, the skies cleared up and we began heading out into the field to pick potatoes.

I needed to get out of the city, and I learned so much on my trip to the village.

As we rode the bus to Nova Skvaryava, I was so impressed by the road. Now, I hear Ukrainians complaining all the time about how bad the roads are in Ukraine – but I rarely feel that way. In my home state, we have some of the worst roads in the country. 70 years ago or so our governor had a brother with a big construction company. The governor paid his brother to build roads and he paid him by the mile. So – if there was a way to build a road straight and direct or a way to build it with many curves and corners at a much greater distance and a much higher price – the governor’s brother always chose the way that made him the most money.

And so our roads are long, windy, and terrible to drive. Now our state is poor and we cannot afford to keep all of these roads in good condition. Today we have to let some of them just sit without any repair. Many roads haven't been repaired since they were first built when my grandparents were kids.

So, I don't usually spend a lot of time thinking about the roads here - but I was really impressed with the road. It was paved, straight, and not bumpy at all. And all of a sudden, we went from a well paved and enjoyable road, to a dirt road which had never been paved. For 100 meters we bumped and meandered along. And after 100 meters, we drove back onto a perfectly straight paved road.

Valodya leaned over and said, "We keep this part of the road to remind us how bad things have been in the past."

These last couple of months have been pretty terrible. We have faced hardships and challenges, and pain and sorrow in ways that we have never faced before. For many of us - our roads have been smooth, straight, and well paved. Most of us don't remember the hard recession of our childhoods. Some have never experienced the death of a close friend or family member.

We don't have to look far into our history to see a time when tragedy was normal. In our countries, our grandparents' generations saw so much death and suffering. From wars to famine, their roads were bumpy and painful for decades. We don't have too look far to see countries and places where this is still the norm.

The shadows prove the sunshine. Without the darkness of shadows, we wouldn't know that the light is real. Our pain and suffering during this time of great tragedy reminds us of God's great love and the mercy he has shown us. Think of the tragedy our grandparents' suffered. Think of how much harder this would be to go through without our faith. Think of the pain if Illya and Maks weren't such wonderful people of faith.

As we return to the paved path we are used to - as life goes back to normal - we will be reminded of this path. Our exams won't seem so awful, the flu will pass, and we will move forward with the knowledge that every day is a gift.

I love the idea of planting potatoes. You take something that is perfectly good and you put it in the ground. A potato that could be used for food, is buried under the earth, and months later the roots lead to more and more new potatoes. And Jesus points to this same idea.

John 12: 24-26

In this life, we are desperate to hold onto something. We feel that if we can get good grades, or a good job, or entrance into a special program that our lives will have meaning. But God calls us to let go of our lives. If we hold onto to our lives we cannot also hold onto God. If we let go of our lives, they will multiply over and over again throughout the world.

Sometimes all we feel is the death, and we don't feel or know what the rebirth will look like. We feel our pain, and we can't believe the good joy that God is planting in our lives.

Finally, after raining all morning the rain stopped and we immediately went to the fields to pick potatoes. They put me together on a team with the oldest potato picker. She told me about picking potatoes before their family had a horse. She explained how to tell which potatoes were good and which to leave behind. She laughed at my Ukrainian. We had a great time.

After picking potatoes for hours, my whole body hurt. Valodya's family laughed and said, "You just wait until you wake up tomorrow."

They were right. For days my whole body has hurt. Muscles hurt that i didn't know I had.

And in life, we tend to believe quite strongly that pain is bad. If we hurt, we have done something wrong and we need to change. We are taught that we should stop pain. We should take a pill. We shouldn't cry. We shouldn't grieve.

But pain is sometimes good. Pain means that you are becoming stronger.

The heart is a muscle. This pain is making us stronger. We are able to face tomorrow stronger than we were yesterday. We are able to help other people in their grief. Our faith grows stronger in our great weakness.

When my friend Jonathan was dying of cancer, we would pray together and he would always end with the sentence, "God, please don't let me waste this cancer." He wanted God to teach him, to teach others, to show the world something wonderful in the midst of tragedy.

May we not waste this tragedy. May God teach our hearts. May God use our suffering to teach the world a lesson about our faith and our hope in God.

Amen.

Healing

Mark 5:24-34
So Jesus went with him.A large crowd followed and pressed around him. And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.
At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?”“You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ”But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”


Mark is the shortest of all the gospels.  I wanted to preach on this woman and her healing, and I wanted the full story.  Usually Mark is the one who reports the facts and only the facts of a story.  Luke was a physician and he records the most miracles of healing - he was clearly fascinated by the medical aspect of all the healings.  So I had planned to use Luke's account of the Gospel; but Luke records the story of this healing in just a few words.   - but I remembered a few more details and so I checked Matthew and Mark.

Matthew wrote for a largely Jewish audience - so in his book you are most likely to find proof of fulfillment of prophesy.  He had the same account as Luke.

But while Mark told the same story, he added a few details of importance.  Mark is the one who captures most fully this woman's plight.
We think that Mark was the young man who ran away naked in the garden.  

vs. 26 says that she had endured much at the hands of many physicians, and had spent all that she had and was not helped at all, but rather had grown worse.

Luke the Physician simply states that no one could help her.  We don't have to look very far back into our history to find medical practices close to those practiced two thousand years ago.  The first world war was the first one in which any real painkiller was given to injured soldiers.  In the American Civil war if an arm or a leg needed to be amputated there was a good chance you would die from the infection.  Surgery without painkillers or an understanding of germ theory was deadly and obviously avoided at any cost.

Of course this woman had been sold every potion and chemical that a salesman could sell.  She had tried every home remedy, she had visited magic healers and doctors.  She had suffered much at their hands.  She had spent all of her money, and she had only grown worse.

In ancient days, and truly just until the last few decades, people knew exactly when they would die.  People got quiet sick and they died that night or the next day.  This is why famous people in history have beautiful dying words.  Today our medical belief is that it is better for someone to be kept alive by a machine than to die at home.  This is perhaps why you don't ever hear of modern celebrities and political figures' last words.

This woman's disease was unique.  It was clearly killing her, but she had been in her "final days" for twelve years.  For twelve agonizing years this woman had been in excruciating pain.  She had gone from doctor to doctor and never got any better.

And this woman sees Jesus, with the crowds pushing in around him, and this woman truly believes that if she can just touch the cloth of his coat that she will be made well.  This woman who has been poked and prodded by every doctor, who has drunk every poison and punch, this woman who has been experimented on - she knows in her heart that if she can just touch Jesus' clothes that she will be made well.

This is the most tremendous idea.  This woman who has had everything done to her - she decides in her heart that if Jesus really is who He says he is - that she can take the healing for herself.  Perhaps she was too scared of another crushing blow of disappointment if it didn't work.  Maybe she was too afraid even to ask Jesus for the miracle.  She was a woman and sick and for both of those reasons she shouldn't have been in the crowd of men following Jesus.

But she follows her heart and faith and begins pushing her way in toward Jesus.

This is Jesus the celebrity.  He is known for his miracles and his healings.  As soon as he steps out of his boat the people begin crowding around to see what he will do next.  When an important official asks him to come and heal his daughter, the crowd goes wild in anticipation of seeing this miracle first hand.  The crowd crushes in just to get a glimpse of this miracle in action.

There are so many things that crowd us.  The busyness of life and schoolwork and work-work all keep us from the silence and stillness.  Email and facebook and Vkontakte all keep us busy.  There is always a song on the radio or on our music player.  Our entire generation is somehow afraid of being still and silent.  The silence is frightening.  The world is crushing in on us and we like it that way.  We don't want the silence.  Sitting down face to face and just talking can be scary.

And throughout the Bible we read of these bold types who come up to Jesus directly and plead their case.  Jarius who's daughter is deathly ill comes and throws himself at Jesus feet just moments before we meet this woman.  Over and over someone comes up to Jesus and begs or demands something of him.

And even in this crowd, we feel this woman's silence.  The strongest sense of loneliness can be felt at a party full of people and no one to talk to.  No one notices this woman.  For more than a decade perhaps, no one had noticed this woman.  Perhaps she had been beautiful and wealthy and in love - but this day she looks old, tired, and sick.  She has no money left and she is alone.  This is a woman who has suffered.

I don't need to retell the hell that we have faced this summer.  We are a hurt and damaged people.  We are in pain and we have suffered much.  This is our reality.  Our semester is starting and our schedules and activities are beginning to weigh us down.  The crowd is pushing in and in this moment we must be certain that if we can just touch the fabric of Jesus clothes that we will be healed.

What does that mean for us?  What would it mean for us to touch the hem of Jesus cloak?  What needs healed in your life? What can God do for our group to continue to heal us? As the world crushes in what promise or idea can you grab on to to be healed?

As we sing our final songs, please take a marker and write on this piece of cloth.  Write your problems, your worries, your prayers.  Hold on to the hem of Jesus cloak and write what is on your heart.  Bring it up and place it here on this table.

When we reach out to Jesus we will be made well.

This woman immediately knew that she had been healed.  After twelve years of sickness, she felt the bleeding end and knew that she was well.  My mom had back surgery more than 20 years ago.  At that time it was an experimental procedure.  She couldn't stand up before the surgery.  Afterwards they offered her painkillers and she just looked at them puzzled.  "Why? I'm in much less pain now than I was before the surgery."  She said that as soon as she woke up she knew she was better and she wouldn't be in pain any longer.  She said it was one of the most tremendous feelings of her life.

And Jesus knew that she had touched him.  He knew that she had  reached out and had been healed.  He felt the power going from him.  Dear friends, over and over again since our tragedy we have felt God's hand on us.  Last week we promised that we would be meeting in an apartment in Kulisha - when that apartment fell through I was so upset.   I went to my quiet place to pray and I prayed, "God, we have had so many problems these last few months.  I got a little pushy and I said, "If we were going to learn our lesson - don't you think we would have learned it by now."  The leadership group has been fasting and praying for this place - and I get a little grumpy when I don't eat enough. 

We had called a realtor and talked with her about our needs and she said that she would have time on Friday to look  After I finished praying, this woman called me back and said that she had one option we could look at.  We met and Valodya and I went with her to view the apartment.  I smiled a little smile of relief as I read the sign of the last tenants - без проблем - as God once again taught me the lesson that I need to learn better - that God is with us and is watching over us.

It's easy to believe that in the midst of the crowd our needs are small or minor.  This is not true.  Our needs matter to God. 

When we are in need of healing and hope we need to go to Jesus.As you write and bring your piece of cloth forward, know that God is healing you.  Feel God's presence as He continues to heal our community and restore us.

God is with us.  God's great love has watched over us for the years we have been a community, through the accident, through the summer, and God is still with us.  Tonight we hold on to the hem of his garment and our faith will make us well.

Amen.