MH May 25 2025, Ps. 84:1-4; Matt. 11:28-30

 

MH May 25 2025, Ps. 84:1-4; Matt. 11:28-30 (Proper 9A)

“Immerse in Sacred Spaces and Rhythms”

Creator God,

who makes the mountains rise and the valley low,

who makes the sea and all therein, 

You, lord God show us your power in creation, 

you show us your love in the lives we share with one another.

Give us vision, at this time in our collective lives,

when much seems so hard,

vision to see the burden that must be laid down.

Give us rest, so that we may hear your voice in the wind, the rain, and one another. Amen. 

We have heard these words from the gospel of Matthew so many times, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” We’ve heard Jesus call the disciples, Andrew and Simon the fisher folk, and Matthew the tax collector. They dropped everything and immediately followed Jesus. But this passage extends that call, it is an expansive invitation from Jesus to all who can hear, including you and me, to follow. When these words fall upon my ears, I listen, but I am not sure that following Jesus is easy, or the burden is light. Sometimes, like you, I think this is really hard. It’s hard to step to a different drummer, when conforming to the values and morals of our culture seems like it would be so much easier. It’s really hard to be the voice in the wilderness that says, resist, resist all that would demean and destroy God’s creation, resist all that would raise the rich and the powerful over and above those who are poor and outcast. Resist the easy fix and the easy answers. Because when you do, when you follow Jesus, Jesus promises, I will give you rest.

And, you can do hard things.

Let’s step back just a bit and see what has happened to get us to this place in Matthew’s gospel. Matthew’s story begins with reporting the glorious works of God being done in Israel, and at this point shifts to focus on Israel’s failure to respond to those works. At the beginning of this chapter 11, Jesus was speaking to the crowds concerning John, the one we call Baptizer. Jesus was singing John’s praises at the very moment John was in prison awaiting his fate. At the same time, Jesus is railing against those who hold power, and who act against the common people. Jesus compares them to stubborn children who would not play well with others. Jesus castigates the people for being inhospitable and lacking repentance.

And then Jesus does something I hope we’ve all done, he stops what he's doing and saying, and he prays, Jesus giving thanks. In this, Jesus shows us that prayer, being present with God, is necessary especially when we are called to do hard things. It is what equips us to do hard things. Like Jesus, we are called to step away from all that is going on, to immerse ourselves in sacred spaces and rhythms. 

So what do sacred spaces and rhythms look like? In the world in which we live, a world in which information moves so fast; a world in which you can change a photo to be anything you want it to be and spread it so quickly people don’t have time to ask questions, or even know to ask - is this real; a world in which you can feed a few words into ChatGPT and get some really amazing results within moments; a world in which there is so much intentional noise to keep you distracted; in this world, what does it mean to step away? 

Many of you may have a rhythm of prayer and scripture study, individually and in community. But I would challenge you to first of all examine what your current rhythm is and how it serves your being present to God, and then wonder about the possibilities. Maybe it’s time to take a chance, to risk a messy path that may bring you to a place you’ve never been before, knowing that it’s not easy, that you can do hard things, and that immersing yourself in the rhythms of prayer is what equips you to do those hard things. 

Immerse yourself in sacred spaces and rhythms of prayer. I have a couple suggestions. 

1) Fast from the internet/looking at your phone when you are with people, because being with people is a sacred space. Remember Covid? Remember not being with people and how much we craved human interaction? Being with humans is sacred, put down your phone to be present with your people. 

2) I know many of you have a practice of reading scripture and prayer. Do you need to renew and refresh that practice? One of the ancient practices of the church is "Praying the Hours". This refers to the practice of praying regularly throughout the day, following a pattern of prayers that mark specific times of the day. These prayers, also known as the Daily Office, include Morning Prayer, Evening Prayer, and other offices like Noonday Prayer and Compline, for before sleep. Steeping yourself in the prayers and scriptures they contain, immerses your spirit, your body, and your mind, in the rhythms of the sacred.

3) I brought with me today some prayer beads, another way to focus your spirit, your body, and your mind on your prayers. 

These are all things you can google for more information. 

Whatever your prayer and scripture reading entails, whatever your prayer practice needs you to do, I urge you to do it in community. Community is at the heart of our sacred spaces and rhythms. We are connected to one another, we are connected to this earth, we are connected to those who walked this way before us, and those who will walk this way long after we’ve gone. You are not alone, celebrate, pray, read, grieve, with each other. No matter what you do, you need to show up and make space for something holy to flow through.

And then Jesus makes this invitation, come to me, follow me, take my yoke upon you. Jesus knows this is hard, probably the hardest thing we ever do. Jesus is asking the people he encountered, and loved and cared about, to exchange the “yoke” they lived under, which is the control of the empire of Rome, for the “yoke” that Jesus offered, the yoke of love, the yoke of reconciliation, the yoke of forgiveness.

We don’t use the word yoke much anymore. In fact, some of you probably can’t picture a yoke in your head. It’s a device for joining together a pair of animals to do the farm work of making rows to plant the seeds, in the days farming was done without big machines. The yoke was a piece that went across the shoulders of two large animals, usually oxen, each enclosing the heads of the animals. The yoke was heavy, it kept the animals doing the job the farmer wanted them to do.

When we imagine that yoke, the image becomes clear. Jesus says, leave the heavy burden that is keeping you hostage, and take on a new yoke, the yoke of love, the yoke of reconciliation, the yoke of forgiveness. Jesus was asking the people of his time to do something very hard. Jesus was asking them to risk everything, their lives and their livelihood, to be free of the empire of Rome. Jesus promises that when we exchange the yoke of the powerful for the yoke of the one who is crucified, we will find rest.

I think we live in very similar times today. The burdens are huge and heavy. Can we even do that hard thing that Jesus asks? Some of our leaders are showing us that wielding power over people is much more desirable than working with each other to come to the common good. We see and hear those who are in power that the goal is to make as much money as possible for oneself. We live at a time and place where true joy, deep satisfaction, and the realization of what we were created for is to be disdained.

But is the hard thing really laying the burden down? Or is the really hard thing believing Jesus, who says, come to me and I will give you rest, my burden is easy, and my burden is light. You see, Jesus doesn’t simply call the picture of the way we think the world works into question. Jesus doesn’t simply call our expectations into question. Jesus gives us a different picture. God is the one who bears our burdens. God is the one who shows up in our need. God is the one who comes alongside us. Nothing demonstrates this more than the cross – God’s willingness to embrace all of our life, even to the point of death, in Jesus, to demonstrate God’s profound love and commitment, love and commitment that will not be deterred…by anything.

It’s not necessarily what we want. We often would prefer a God who takes away our problems rather than helps us cope with them, who eliminates challenges rather than equips us for them. It’s not usually what we want, but pretty much exactly what we need. That’s the rest Jesus is talking about. It’s not an easy rest, it’s not usually what we want, but it’s exactly what we need.

And we are reminded that God always shows up where we least expect God to be: in the need of our neighbor. We are reminded that God shows up in the violence and the protest: demanding that we face the truth that all people are truly created in God’s image.

In our estimation, growth and change are not easy. Seeing the world in a new and different way is not easy. But ease is not what Jesus asks of us. Jesus asks us to exchange the burden of the world for the relationship Jesus offers. It is hard, and we can do hard things. And it is what following Jesus looks like. But as we undertake this new yoke, we discover God in Jesus is already there. Waiting for us, encouraging us, forgiving us, bearing us, loving us. Which is what makes the burden light, the yoke not just easy but joyful. Pick up the yoke that Jesus offers, the yoke of love, the yoke of reconciliation, the yoke of forgiveness.

It is hard, but we can do hard things. It is joyful, and love does win. Amen.

Speaking of hard things, a point of personal privilege if I may.

Even though there has been much pleading and cajoling, today is my last Sunday as your interim for pastoral care. I want to thank you for giving me this privilege of serving God with you. As I came to the decision, with God’s help, to come by your side and accompany you through this liminal time, I did so with the confidence that the Holy Spirit is active, and that who I am, could be helpful to you. You have shown forth your best selves, you have received me with love and care. What I ask of you, is that you show each other that same love and care, that you give one another your best selves, always remembering that your best self is authentic and messy, not perfect. This building is filled with really lovely people, be church for one another, forgiving, healing, reconciling. It is now my time in life to do what I please, when I please, retirement. Let’s all have some fun!

"Risk the Messy Path of Faith" Meetinghouse Church, May 11 2025

Matt. 9:18-26; Mark 8:34

“Risk the Messy Path of Faith” 

Let us pray,

Beloved God, creator of all that is seen and unseen, 

meet us in all our messiness, meet us in our dis-ease and our health,

help us to walk your way, help us to walk your way with one another, 

even when we are unsure of the path. 

Help us to risk doing the next right thing.

What would it be like to not be well for twelve years? Some of you have some experience with this, some of you know those who have chronic illness and have good days and bad days. Some of you are there yourselves. What would it be like to be a woman in Jesus’ time and bleed for twelve years, without relief? She’d spent any money she had on physicians, and she continued to grow worse. I imagine a body exhausted, listless, unable to really get up and do much of anything; and certainly unable to go far from home. What would that be like when you are a woman who must take care of a household, as well as caring for children and most likely for your parents. Would everyone leave you? What would they do with you?

And added to the misery of exhaustion and the inability to really do anything, she is unclean. To preserve the holiness of God’s people, Jews in Palestine avoided contact with lepers, menstruating women, corpses, and Gentiles, among others. Such contact defiled a person for a period lasting from one to seven days, until purification, ritual washing, and enduring a waiting period. So on top of her exhaustion, she was prohibited from participation in festivals, certain meals, and Temple functions.

So what was she doing there? She should not have been there. At the end of her hope, she must have sensed something about this man Jesus and decided to take the messy path of faith. A crowd of people had gathered around him. One of the leaders of the synagogue came to Jesus and asked him to come and see his daughter who had died. This leader was confident that all Jesus had to do was lay his hands on her and she would live. So Jesus went with him. This crowd followed Jesus and pressed in on him. Those kinds of crowds make me jittery. Hot sticky people, oh so very messy, craning their necks, looking for the rock star or the sports star, trying to get a glimpse of the hero. But she had nothing left to lose. All she had was a flicker, a glimmer, of hope. She was at the end of her rope, at the end of her life, at the end of his cloak. She touched it.

You know when your car battery is dead, and you jump it from another car, and it roars back into life? Or when your favorite song comes up on your playlist and you just gotta get up and dance? Or when you can’t get out of bed because you’ve got the worst sinus infection of your life, and you finally get the antibiotics you need and you feel like you can live again? She felt his power surge through her giving her new life. Jesus felt it too. It was as if they were the only two people alive in that crowd -  connected by an umbilical cord of life and power. 

Jesus moved on to the leader's house and pronounced life for the little girl, she is not dead, but sleeping. 

Jesus’ life and power is connected to us too, giving us all we need. Are we willing to risk this messy path, like the woman in our story?

Sometimes, when I am reading the newspaper, listening to the news, or talking with people, I hear hopelessness, faithlessness, despair, in our community, in our country. I hear people wondering what is next. Where or what is the next way people are disrespected, mistreated, and distrusted? What is the next means of exclusion, violence, hatred? Why are we having so much trouble making space in our communities, our lives, our country, for people who are unlike us? Why are we having so much trouble risking this messy path of following Jesus?

I think it may be because of the blood. This woman’s blood flowed out of her, through no fault of her own, making her unacceptable in the neighborhood in which she lived, and, they believed, unacceptable to God, yes, to God. These rules were to keep God’s people holy, and to keep God holy as well, maybe even to keep God from getting messy.

We continue today with boundaries and barriers that keep us apart, outward appearances that are no fault of our own, inward realities that are no fault of our own. But because some are certain there is a particular set of rules one must follow, they are unwilling to risk the uncertainty, or to risk the messy path of love.

But Jesus changed those rules. Jesus said, the commandments now are, love God, love your neighbor, no exceptions. And yet we keep doing it. We keep people away, we put distance between us, we inflict animosity, because they are not like us. It is as if we need to keep ourselves unaffected, clean even, and it is as if we need to keep God in our box of holiness, orderliness, surely not messiness.

But we needn’t worry about God; God can take care of Godself, much better than we can. God is found in all sorts of objectionable places, places where hungry people live, places where unhoused people live, places where boundaries are erected and walls are built. And yet, we see God in those places, in the faces of all of God’s beloveds. We see God in those places, in the faces of the helpers, those who go running toward trouble, those who go running toward violence and sadness. We see God in the faces of those whose color, language, and culture is unlike our own. 

In Jesus’ life, and in Jesus’ journey to the cross, and in Jesus’ love on the cross, Jesus crossed boundaries. Jesus risked the messy path. Jesus heals any who need healing, regardless of their status, regardless of who they are, regardless of who they even believe in. And on that cross, Jesus healed the one who hung next to him, who uttered the words, “remember me, when you come into your kingdom”, and who does the same for us, regardless of our status, our holiness, our orderliness.

Jesus’ life and power is connected to us too, just like that woman who touched his fringe. We are connected to love, we are connected to healing, we are connected to dignity by that same umbilical cord of life and power. We see God in one another, in our hurts, our messiness, our vulnerability. We are connected to each other, Jesus not only reaches out to touch us, Jesus embraces us. 

We follow the one who makes people free, the one who unbinds, the one who heals. We follow Jesus who crosses boundaries, who goes to the margins, who overcomes obstacles in the service of the kingdom of God. Who comes to us in the muck and messiness of our lives. We are the followers who cross boundaries to proclaim the good news to the ends of the earth, and the mission is urgent, it feels more urgent every single moment.

The good news is right here. In the midst of that hot mess of a market square, in the midst of the hot mess of our lives, Jesus brings new life, to make people whole, to heal, to empower, through you, and me.

Just like that woman of so long ago, Jesus’ life and power is connected to us too, The good news is right here. Do you feel it? Can you feel it? “She is not dead, she is alive!” Jesus says the same thing to us. Get up, be a part of the Jesus Movement. Stand up, be counted as one who is connected to Jesus; whose blood courses through our veins, whose body is broken for us. Stand up, be counted as one who is connected to Jesus. Stand up, be counted as one who loves God, loves others, and and shows that love to the world.