“They Left Everything and Followed Him”

Rev. Alice Hildebrand
Sunset Congregational Church, UCC
First Congregational Church of Deer Isle, UCC
Luke 5:1-11

You probably know about the “Big Read” program that is happening here on the Island. 2000 copies of Jack London’s book, The Call of the Wild, were given out so that as many of us as possible would read that book together. Nelson Monteith asked Dana Douglass to impersonate Jack London at the assembly and celebration which kicked off the project, and tell the community about “his” life and how “he” came to write the book.

You may remember that The Call of the Wild is about the Klondike gold rush, and it’s told through the eyes of a sled dog, Buck. As the story progresses, Buck, a gentle pet dog who was kidnapped from his home and sold to be a sled dog, gradually begins to hear a “call” away from domestication, and back to his ancestral roots as a wolf — the “call” of the wild. Dana told me that at the end of his monologue, he asked the audience to listen for a call in their own lives — not back to the wild, but to their true selves, to their heart’s desire. And, he said that from the comments and questions of the kids, it was clear that they didn’t understand what he meant by “call” at all. They took it literally. “Who would make the call to me?” they asked. “Would I get it on my cell phone — my own phone — or would it come over the family phone, at home?”

We can laugh at the literal-minded-ness of children; but I think that when it comes to the concept of “call,” we adults can be pretty literal-minded, too. There’s something so big and important sounding about that phrase. We use it for some kinds of professions – we say someone is “called” to be a minister – but we don’t say someone is “called” to most other kinds of jobs. Folks just have to go to work, and they pick a way of earning their living and supporting their family that they are good at, that they like reasonably well, that they can do where they live, and so on. Very practical and straightforward; no need to hear a “call”, you just do it. It may lead you to your true self, to your heart’s desire, or it may just pay the bills. (And, by the way, this is true for many ministers, too – I am very fortunate that this work DOES use my whole self and DOES keep me in touch with my heart’s desires – but I have spoken with many a colleague who doesn’t discover until they are actually in a parish that what they like is study and reflection, not preaching and visiting, let alone “running” a church – and then ministry becomes only a job, to do one day at a time while one’s heart is elsewhere).

The story from Luke that we have heard this morning could be about the call of the disciples – or it could be about some hard working folks who had an amazing day on the job! They caught a LOT of fish! And, as a matter of fact, this story is named “the Miraculous Catch of Fish” as often as it is named “the Call of the Disciples.” But — these hard working fishermen who had just had the catch of their lives “brought their boats to shore … left everything and followed him.” For them it was not about a really good day on the water, but about an experience that entered them deeply, that went right to their hearts — that called to them. They didn’t stay to count the fish as they do in John’s telling of this story (which isn’t about the call of the disciples at all – it takes place after the resurrection), they didn’t even look back – Jesus tells them, “From now on you will be catching people,” and they set out with him.

I think we distance ourselves from the idea of “call” for a good reason – it’s scary. “Call” implies “caller”, of course – someone beckoning to us, calling us. “Call” implies change – the Someone who is calling us wants us to do something new, something different from what we are doing right now. Attached to that is the idea of giving something up – leaving everything. We may wish for change – but we want to be in control and we want what is familiar. We may be very unhappy, and yearn to do something different with our lives – but we want to be in control and we want what is familiar. If we think of call at all, we probably think of it as something that mostly applies to a young person just starting out on life’s journey – we advise them to experiment, to take risks, to try different things, to see what plucks at their heart strings. We think of ourselves as beyond all that. But Jesus’ fishermen are not described as beginners – just a little bit before this we hear a story about Simon Peter’s mother-in-law – these are family men, mature wage-earners. They are in mid-life; yet they lay the familiar aside, they give up control, they give up possessions and financial security, and they follow Jesus.

You could say that here in this church, we are in mid-life – 200-some years and counting. Christianity is in mid-life – 2000-some years and counting. The human race is in mid-life – 2.4 million-some years and counting – the earth itself — 4.5 billion years and counting – the universe – 14 billion-some years and counting. We don’t get to be in at the beginning! Yet we can understand ourselves as beginning anew, each day. We’re “churching” along here, in an ancient universe; yet God can call to us. God does call to us! When it comes to God, we are always beginners, no matter where we are, no matter how much we think we are settled and all set. This is not scary news, this is good news; we are not in control, the familiar is not all there is. There are no limits on the possibilities, either for us as individuals, or for our church. Jesus is always calling us. Do not be afraid. Amen.

“The Words” (congregational small group discussion)

Rev. Alice Hildebrand
Sunset Congregational Church, UCC
First Congregational Church of Deer Isle, UCC
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-12

(This Sunday, as we move ahead into our seventh year together on February 1, 2010, and having concluded two very successful annual meetings, I asked the congregation to consider the reading from Nehemiah and then reflect on the life of our church. Below are my notes in introduction to the congregational activity.)

“All the people wept when they heard the words of the law” – when we listen to that phrase in the context of the story told in Nehemiah, we know that the people are weeping not for sorrow but for joy – they have been through terrible trials and have nearly lost their sense of connection to God completely – now they hear the ancient words that are the center of their faith, of their lives , and they are overcome — their leaders remind them gently to move on from that grief and into the joy of life in God that they are called to – “the joy of the Lord is your strength.”

And yet when we read the whole story in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, we are confronted with the fact that, at least as far as the people of the day could discern, the words of the law had harsh demands to make of some people – women and children were expendable. Foreigners were to be expelled. This harshness and exclusivity is our tradition too – Quoting Neil Rolde, former Maine legislator — “From 1652 on, when Maine was incorporated into Massachusetts, there was for more than a century an established religion. Today, we would call it the Congregational Church. It was initially against the law to belong to any other church and the first discriminations were against Episcopalians and Baptists. Even when later there was some tolerance of these other groups, they still had to tithe to the Congregational Church and help pay for its ministers.” [Testimony by the Honorable Neil Rolde in favor of LD 1020]

Some parts of the Christian church today still do not value women and children – Some parts of the Christian church today condemn those who are gay — or not Caucasian — some parts of the Christian church view those with different cultures, different faiths as enemies. In the political world of our country right now there is such division that nothing can be done.

As we approach our 238th year (FCCDI founded in August of 1773) these questions are more important than ever. We live on a shrinking globe, where diverse religious and political systems are intertwined.  How do we know what to uphold, what to let go of? How and when to make compromises? Which words should lay claim to our hearts and obedience, and which should not? How do we know? What are the core assertions of our faith? What must we affirm in any and all situations, and where must we bend?

“The Body is One and Has Many Members”

Rev. Alice Hildebrand
Sunset Congregational Church, UCC
First Congregational Church of Deer Isle, UCC
1 Corinthians 12:12-31a, Luke 4:14-21

Today is the day of our annual congregational meeting. In our polity, it is the congregation who has the “power” in the operation of a church – not the minister, not the denominational leaders. It’s like old-fashioned, New England town meeting democracy – each member has a vote. Matters are discussed; every member has a voice. We have committees which can explore topics in depth and make recommendations, but no small group of some of us has power over the rest of us. The Church Council carries on the business of the church in between annual meetings, but if any big decision has to be made, the whole congregation will have a say, either at a special, called meeting, or at the yearly meeting. It requires a certain amount of personal initiative to make this system work – we all need to be informed participants in order that our decisions be meaningful and sensible. It requires faith in the abilities and commitment of our fellow parishioners to make this system work – if we delegate a task to someone else, then we need to step back and let them do it. Yet no one is to just decide all on their own how something ought to be; we trust the gathered wisdom of the larger body of all of us to test and shape ideas. And it requires faith in God – we have business that we conduct, and must conduct properly and in an orderly manner, just like a corporation — but we also have business that has no proper and orderly aspect to it. Call it what you like — the business of the heart – the business of the soul – of the right side of the brain as opposed to the left side – of feelings and intuitions and dreams and visions, rather than of figures and facts. The business of the unpredictable and sometimes chaotic life of faith.

Paul says, “In the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free;” and we might miss the huge significance of that simple sentence. “Greeks” here means “gentiles;” and in Paul’s time, Jews and gentiles did not associate with each other very much, and certainly didn’t think of themselves as one body. Paul is affirming a kind of oneness that would have been unthinkable to many of his day. As he goes more deeply into his subject, he broadens the metaphor of “body;” the church is a body with many different parts. That was a familiar concept to his audience – but with a crucial difference – the body metaphor was used by philosophers of Paul’s day to describe a well-ordered society, underlining the importance of hierarchy and differences in importance and value – the “subordination” of the foot to the head illustrated the natural and right subordination of the laboring classes to the thinking classes, of women to men, of slaves to masters. But Paul’s description of parts of the body make clear their equal value, and their interdependence. What Paul writes is actually quite subversive! What binds the parts of the body of Christ together is not the submission of inferiors to superiors, but mutual concern — shared suffering, and shared rejoicing.

The difference between the lives of slaves and the lives of free people is obvious to us, for tragically, we still have slaves in the world today. We see and know the difference between the life of a slave and our own life, or the life of a refugee and our own life, or the life of an undocumented worker and our own life, but it is probably only in the church that we see that and know that we are baptized into one body with that person who is so very different from us, just as in Paul’s affirmation of the oneness of the church at Corinth. We are all baptized into one body – Haitian, Ugandan, Iraqi, Russian, Chinese – the body of Christ. And knowing that we are baptized into one body with Christians from all these places must help us understand that we are just as interconnected with folks who are Muslim or Hindu or Buddhist or Animist as we are with each other – for the Spirit of God is not limited by the name of a religion.

There are many, many voices in the world that will tell us that differences between people are what is most important – in a negative way. “Don’t trust anyone not of your tribe – family – race – religion—culture – age—gender—political beliefs,” and so on. There are many, many places we can go where to be different will be dangerous – “Don’t stand out, don’t draw attention to yourself. Blend in!” But here in this church we know that our strength is our diversity – we are a small group but because of our diversity, we are engaged with all parts of our island community’s life. We know our neighborhoods and we know our neighbors, and we are known, and we are trusted. I think, from comments I’ve heard around the community over the past six years of my life here with all of you, that our church is seen as a safe place, where all are welcome –that folks whom we never see on Sunday morning will call this their “own church.” And this must help us understand that we are just as interconnected with folks who never come to worship with us as we are with each other – for the Spirit of God is not limited by the practice of a religion.

Our reading for today ends with, “And I will show you a still more excellent way.” It is in Chapter 13 of First Corinthians that Paul outlines the most excellent way for people to relate to one another – the way of love. “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”

The Spirit of God is not limited by name, or practice, or creed, or polity, or race, or gender, or age, or orientation, or anything else – the Spirit of God is limitless love. I can think of no better way for us to go forth from worship to our annual congregational meeting — understanding ourselves as loving friends, bound together in mutuality, held by the Spirit of God. Amen.

“The Water That Becomes Wine”

Rev. Alice Hildebrand
Sunset Congregational Church, UCC
First Congregational Church of Deer Isle, UCC
John 2:1-11

This sermon was halfway written when we received word of the devastating earthquake in Haiti last Tuesday. I found myself avoiding finishing it, as the magnitude of the disaster was revealed. To reflect on the meaning of the reading from John as I had set out to do seemed sort of like fussing over how many angels can dance on the head of a pin instead of responding to huge, immediate need. But, as I thought more about it, I began to see it differently – in order to respond to huge immediate need effectively, there has to be some groundwork – for us, Christians, reflection on scripture is groundwork, foundational work that gives us something on which to stand fast when terrible things happen — just as building good sturdy houses and schools and churches in Monkey River, Belize is groundwork that prevents the people who live there from losing everything if another hurricane comes. So here we go.

When we consider the story of the wedding at Cana, in which Jesus provides an enormous quantity of the finest wine imaginable for a wedding feast, we may ask, “What utility could that have had?” And the answer could be – “None.” Wine is not a necessity of life, a good wedding party is not a necessity of life. But – in this story what we have is a small, tangible example of the abundant, over-flowing love of God. And a little introduction to Jesus, God’s messenger, who goes on to show that extravagant, tender generosity in as many situations and to as many different kinds of people as possible, feeding their bodies and their spirits, over and over again. It’s important almost because it is so unimportant – God cares about beauty and pleasure and graceful hospitality, along with justice and righteousness and mercy. In a world full of sorrow and trouble, which Jesus’ world surely was, just as ours is – take time to stop and smell the roses. It is God’s will that you delight in the world as well as that you work tirelessly for the coming of the kingdom.

If we followed the wisdom of the great spiritual teachers of Christianity, we would treat the months of December, January and February (roughly, Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany) as a deeply nourishing time for our spirits. The expectant joyful waiting of Advent gives way to the fulfilled satisfaction of Christmas, which in turn transitions to wonder and hope, as the life and ministry of Jesus the Christ begins during Epiphany. The readings given for January 6th, the day of Epiphany, begin thus, from Isaiah 60 – “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” This is the season of the church year when we are meant to feel the glory and the light of God surrounding us, in a different way from the way we do at Easter, the other great holy time of the Christian church. We begin the Easter season with the heartbreak of Good Friday just barely behind us, and our celebration is deeply rooted in a mature, adult awareness of the brutality and suffering of too much of human life. But during Epiphany our hearts are filled with light, and we can be like little children, tingling with happiness and anticipation – paraphrasing and quoting Isaiah — “2For [even though] darkness …[too often] cover[s] the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; …the Lord will arise upon you, and [God’s] glory will appear [covering] you.”

I said a moment ago, “If we followed the wisdom of the great spiritual teachers of Christianity, we would treat the months of December, January and February (roughly, Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany) as a deeply nourishing time for our spirits.” Why is it that most of us, including me, don’t do this? (And, by the way, even though for generations our New England and Northern European ancestors had no choice but to hunker down and stay put during the winter months, it is probably not accurate to assume that what they did during those isolated days in their castles, huts, mansions or cabins was to happily focus on their religious lives and think holy thoughts for days on end!) I think the reason that we don’t do this is because it is hard work, and it is hard work with no immediate and obvious pay off, unlike many other kinds of hard work. Much of what humans have always had to do is make sure that they and their families have food and shelter, and that is not only hard work, it is constant, daily work. One reason why people everywhere have always had shamans, wise women and men, priests and prophetesses and so on, is to make sure that someone in the group would be focusing on the non-material world, on behalf of all the busy workers – and the material needs of that non-material, spiritual leader were often provided for by the others, at least in part. Contacting the numinous – a technical jargon-y word for anything not of the natural, everyday, visible world — on behalf of the group has been a job description for eons, according to archaeological evidence. So – the reason that we don’t take the winter months as time of spiritual retreat and deep contemplation of the revelation made known to us in Jesus’ birth, not just as a baby but as the Christ of God, is that we are doing many other important things. Well – and maybe some very not so important things, too… let’s be honest! My own distractions – I’m not talking about the things I need to do but what I do when I have free time –the internet, Netflix, reading, watching the weather report, taking a walk, talking on the phone with friends… none of those bad things at all, in fact, they are an important part of self-care – but so is meditating, reading and reflecting on the Bible and other spiritual texts, praying – and those activities so often end up on the bottom of our daily “to do” list.

But – what would Christianity look like if we Christians took seriously the wisdom of all those who have spent their time contacting the numinous on our behalf, and have shared their insights and experiences with us via scripture, art, music, writings and speakings of all kinds? What would our church look like? What would our lives look like? And – most importantly of all, perhaps – what would the WORLD look like? The religion founded around the doings and sayings of a teacher who turned ordinary water into the finest wine imaginable invites us to do likewise – by our actions and by our thoughts, reveal that the ordinary is extraordinary, and that there is a luxurious plenty for all. God turns dirt into potatoes! Flowers into apples! Yeast into bread, grapes into wine. Less visibly, but just as truly – the power of God working in us makes it possible for us to love our enemies – to sacrifice our own pleasures for the good of others – to share what we have with complete strangers. The ordinary sustenance of life is turned into the extraordinary sustenance, to feed not just bodies, but hearts and minds and souls.

We confront the tragedy in Haiti, or the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina, or of the tsunami in Southeast Asia, or the effects of Hurricane Mitch in Belize, as Christians, as people of faith, as folks who listen to the words of the Hebrew Prophets, to the words of Jesus as given in the Gospels, to the words of Paul and his followers in the Letters in the New Testament. Even more, we confront these tragedies as folks who read of and reflect on the DEEDS of the prophets, or Jesus, of Paul, of countless Christians like Martin Luther King, Jr, whose birthday our nation remembers tomorrow. I invite you to also confront an earthquake, a hurricane, a tsunami of need right here on Deer Isle, as economic downturn continues to mean loss of jobs, as the fishing industry staggers, and looming cuts to the state budget mean loss of services – to the elderly homebound, to the mentally ill, to the young but disabled, to special needs children, to folks in nursing homes. Of course even the poorest of the poor here are vastly better off than the people of Haiti — yet all around us there is great need. We cannot turn away from our sisters and brothers! We cannot, we must not — and yet, we can, and we do. What would the world look like if we took our religion more seriously? What would the world look like if we spent three months a year in contemplation of the meaning of Christ’s birth in space and time? If we spent time each day building deep connections with God? I don’t think it would mean that all terrible things would stop happening; but I think it could well mean that we would find that many terrible things are actually easily preventable. Poverty, racism, diseases of all kinds, violence, abuse, addiction – could these things be easily preventable? Yes. Take the water of your daily life and turn it into wine. Amen.