Revolutionary Love

Rev. Anna Woofenden
The Garden Church
December 4, 2016
Scripture: Isaiah 11:1-10 11:1 & Matthew 3:1-12

First Coming
He did not wait till the world was ready,
 till men and nations were at peace. 
He came when the Heavens were unsteady, 
and prisoners cried out for release.
He did not wait for the perfect time. 
He came when the need was deep and great.
 He dined with sinners in all their grime, turned water into wine.
He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy he came  to a tarnished world of sin and doubt. 
To a world like ours, of anguished shame 
he came, and his Light would not go out.
He came to a world which did not mesh, to heal its tangles, shield its scorn. 
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
 the Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane 
to raise our songs with joyful voice, 
for to share our grief, to touch our pain, 
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!
Madeleine L’Engle

(Christ) did not wait till the world was ready, till (people) and nations were at peace. He came when the Heavens were unsteady, and prisoners cried out for release.
He did not wait for the perfect time. He came when the need was deep and great.

We come together today, here on this Sunday of Advent, this time of waiting, this time of preparation. We have lit the Advent Candle of Love and perhaps we feel like that’s exactly what we need, what we are longing for. For something beyond whatever the chaos we may feel in our own lives, in the world around us.

We reach for and long for that Love we talk about that overcomes fear, that Light that shines in the darkness and is not overcome. Maybe we long for what we might hope Advent can be, a peaceful time set apart, some twinkling candles, and re-lived childhood memories.

And then we get this passage. “Repent!” “Prepare the way!” “Make paths straight!”

We can read this and superimpose our own ideas of God and the Light and our own criteria for what it takes for it to come. “Prepare the way!” That must mean I need to have my house clean, all the gifts bought and wrapped, my finances in order, my inner-life in pristine condition. Probably in order for God to show up, I need to pray for long periods of time, every day, not make any questionable moral decisions, and never question or doubt. Probably if we were really doing good Advent preparation, we need to have everything in order, and have it all figured out—right?!

But no, this is not the Advent we find in the gospel, this is not the Advent we need today. The Advent we find comes into the middle of dark and messy, into a world that was engulfed in fear and chaos. Emmanuel, “God with us,” entered into a time in history when things where dark and grim, where fear and uncertainty ran rampant, and when people were crying out for another way.

John comes in from the wilderness and calls for repentance, calls to prepare a way for the Lord. This may seem counter to what we picture the preparation for Christ ought to be, but maybe John might be answering the question of “what are you waiting for?” more than he is trying to scare people into submission like a loud street preacher. At the very least, I think he’s showing us where our values are, and what it is that we actually need.

As my friend Alex pointed out, John shows up in the aftermath of Jesus’ birth, and the aftermath of Herod’s slaughter of hundreds of children. He shows up to people who are hurting and grieving that the empire had just murdered their babies. He shows up in the midst of the shrieking of Rachel and all the mothers whose children were taken from them.

But he also shows up right after the hope of the whole world has just been born. He shows up when God came into our world. And he comes out of the wilderness to talk about that hope. John came to proclaim a hope to people who were oppressed, proclaiming the kingdom of God over the kingdom of the empire. Offering the possibility that there is something more than capitalism, and that security in physical things won’t save us.

And Emanuel, God with us, comes to us in the middle of all the uncertainty and through Christ’s very presence—vulnerable in infant flesh—and opens up another way. With God with us, lions and sheep will lie down together. With God with us, and we’ll be able to sit across from that relative at the Christmas dinner table and find humanity beyond our differences. With God with us we will find that actually the kingdom of God—the love, the hope—is bigger and stronger and more pervasive and more immediately present than any of the chaos and fear. In fact, it is right here, God with us. Love with us.
God comes in the middle of dark and messy.

Jesus took bread and broke it, and the crumbs cascaded to the floor.

God comes in and amongst the mundane, the normal, the sacred.

God doesn’t wait until things are all cleaned up to come in. She doesn’t wait until we have everything in our lives perfectly in order to bring us some burst of joy, a flash of Light. No, God’s love and presence does not require an absence of the messy, it requires an openness to noticing and embracing the Love and Light. Prepare the way, repent, open up, clear out, turn, embrace the love.

My love, David, and I got engaged this past week, and we are so joyfully happy. This is something we have both been waiting for and praying for many many years—to find that partner to walk through life with. We had three days after our engagement in a total love bubble. I didn’t read the news, I didn’t worry about the church bank account, I didn’t look at the to-do lists. I only read the congratulatory comments on our announcement post on Facebook, and ignored all the political posts,

I even told people that we weren’t going to start trying to decide the wedding date until Monday because that scheduling felt stressful, and I wanted to bask in that deep and pure place of love and celebration.

On Monday, we began to re-enter the regular world life, and work, and the full email boxes, and work needs, and trying to find a wedding date that worked for everyone, and looking at the news again and wondering at the darkness and chaos and hate, and on top of it all, sneezing and coughing from a cold.

And I felt the love bubble beginning to fade. It was so tempting to just slide all the way away from it and to go the lowest common denominator of stress and worry and fear. I could feel myself succumbing to the chaos and the darkness…

But then, that idea of revolutionary gratitude caught up with me from a few weeks ago and the phrase “revolutionary love” crossed my path and a new image was offered me. I don’t need to “come down” from my love bubble high, and wallow in the chaos and fear. I need to hold strong to that incredible love, because that is the stuff of life. I need to expand that love bubble out and over the pain and the lists and the questions and fear.

Because love, in all its forms, is the thing that heals, and transforms, and comforts, and propels us forward. It was love that John was preparing the way for; it’s love that came into the world, Emmanuel, God with us. It’s love that we each need to claim and live and be in and with, here today.

Love is actually our greatest protest against empire and chaos and fear. And sometimes our work is to focus in on the simple things. The day-to-day acts of love that we keep showing up to. My friend Sara is planting bulbs. Our dear friend and new mom Tania is posting baby pictures. I’m determined not to lose the joy of the engagement glow. These are not things separate from the world, we’re not living apart and oblivious to the world around us, no—we’re defiantly claiming the power of love, here with us.

Jesus came into a dark world. And he came in innocence. Simply. As a baby. Revolutionary love is in the simple things, the innocence, and the vulnerable. Revolutionary love keeps its eyes open, to those who are vulnerable. Love stands together. Revolutionary love stands with the water protectors at Standing Rock. Revolutionary love gently cares for a partner as they support an aging parent. Revolutionary love goes across the street and checks on a neighbor. Revolutionary love shows up. And digs in. And embraces the love.

My friend and colleague Diana Butler Bass shared this story on Facebook on Friday, and I asked her if I could share it with you to close this message today.

She writes:
“I’m in a hotel this morning in Florida where some sort of conservative conference is being held. At breakfast, four older white men were at the table next to me. One was a media activist-pundit (who I think I recognized). They were talking VERY loudly, bragging about how they have “total power,” and how they are going to destroy everything President Obama did, how easy it is to manipulate people to get them to vote for them, and how they planned on taking over every single county government in the state of Florida.

There was a young African-American woman waiting on them. She did her job with thoroughness and kindness. As I watched, they spoke of disgusting racist things in front of her—and seemed to think she was invisible. And the more they bellowed their retrograde views, her body actually recoiled as she tried to serve them.

I was VERY angry. VERY ANGRY.

When she came over to my table, I told her that those guys might be white and I might be white but I thought they were assholes and that I wasn’t on board with their plan, how sorry I am about what happened. I told her that I wanted to go over to their table and slap them upside the head. She laughed.

She said, “You know, one day all this hate will finally die out. It doesn’t bring life. It cannot survive the long term.” I said, “I kind of hoped it might die before I do.” She said, “Well, that’s probably a bit too soon! But I have hope. Hate has no life of its own. Another generation or two. It will die.”

And she went on, “And meanwhile, we work for our communities. We love our families, care for our neighbors, celebrate life. And them?” She gazed over to the table with a mixture of resignation and pain. “They are the last of a dying world.”

As she spoke to me, her back straightened, her eyes glowed, passion filled her voice. And finally she said, “It is really nice, however, that a white lady like you noticed how awful they are. Thank you. We all need to pay attention and do our part.”

Dear ones, we all need to pay attention and do our part. Advent is a time of preparation, and waiting yes, and it’s a time of paying attention. It’s a time of being vulnerable and then standing up to do our part. Care for each other. Love our loved ones. Stand with the vulnerable. Celebrate life. Love with revolutionary love.

(Christ) came to a world which did not mesh, to heal its tangles, shield its scorn. In the mystery of the Word made Flesh the Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane to raise our songs with joyful voice, for to share our grief, to touch our pain, He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

November 15, 2016November 15, 2016

Anointed to Love

November 13^th, 2013
Rev. Anna Woofenden
The Garden Church, San Pedro, CA

Scripture: Isaiah 35:3-8, Luke 17:20-21

“The hallmark of love is not loving ourselves, but loving others and being united to them through love.” Divine Love and Wisdom 47 Emanuel Swedenborg

As a church, we don’t stand with a particular political view; as people of faith, there is not one right partisan expression. What we stand behind, no matter what, is love. And being people who are anointed to love.

Love goes beyond who we voted for, or how that is expressed. Love looks out into the world to see who is suffering, who is experiencing fear and loss, who is consumed by hate. Love looks inward at parts of ourselves—at what is underneath our thoughts, feelings, and actions. Love isn’t always comfy or pretty. Often love calls us to go beyond our comfort zones.

Glennon Doyle Melton writes “Love is not warm and fuzzy or sweet and sticky. Real love is tough as nails. It is having your heart ripped out, putting it back together, and the next day offering it back to the same world that just tore it up.”

Love is fierce. Love is persistent. Love puts our bodies in between, beside, and behind bodies that are threatened. Love combats the hate and words of condemnation that come into our own heads, and stops us when we want to lash out at other people.

I think love also gently wraps a blanket around us. It encourages us to care gently, for ourselves and for each other. Love reaches out and checks in, “How are you doing?” “How can I support you today?” “How can I stand with you today?” Love calls out to that Divine love, and welcomes it into this place.

This message is nothing new friends; it’s what you hear from me most every week—love God and love each other, honor the dignity of all human beings, we belong to God, we belong to each other, we are loved and we are called to love. This is not new information, nor a new call. But today we have the opportunity to be reminded of its imperative. We have a reminder that love is not easy, but it must be our consistent commitment, for the long haul. The work of courageous love has been the work, is the work, and will continue to be the work. All the resolve we feel now—we must keep that, and continue to stay awake.

We must be awake to where there is hell and negativity that is working to divide us and twist things. We must be awake when it urges us to flare up in anger or take us to the pit of despair, and when it tells us there’s no point and to just stop.

We must stay awake to heaven and its powerful force for compassion and justice and healing in the world. Because heaven is with us and among us—urging and infilling us, anointing us to love.

And this is why we need to keep gathering together, praying and listening and acting. We need to educate ourselves in how to love more effectively and to encourage each other. We need to hold each other accountable. We need to widen our circles and expand our friendships. We need to look more deeply at things we might have assumed we know, and question narratives that have been presented as the singular truth. We need to consistently do our internal work of rejecting hell and welcoming heaven and to show up and stand with courage and compassion in the face of injustice and hate. We need to be kind to each other and gentle to each other. We need to call together on God, for the strength and comfort and resolve. We need to come around God’s table where all are welcome, and remember together that we are beloved and we are anointed to love.

³Strengthen the weak hands,
and make firm the feeble knees.
⁴Say to those who are of a fearful heart,
“Be strong, do not fear.”
For God is here.

June 13, 2016June 13, 2016

“The Response is Love” Sermon for 6/12/16

Rev. Anna Woofenden
The Garden Church
Scripture: Psalm 5:1-8, Luke 7:36-8:3
AUDIO

Wild Geese
By Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

So did you notice what Jesus was doing? Again? Eating. Always eating. And always eating with the wrong people. And this time not only is he eating with the wrong people, he brings the wrong people to the house of the other wrong people.

In our gospel text today Jesus accepts the invitation to the house of a Pharisee, a member of an ancient Jewish sect, distinguished by strict observance of the traditional and written law, and commonly held to have pretensions to superior sanctity. Going to dinner there would certainly be considered dining with “the wrong people” according to some of his rag-tag followers. But Jesus is classically indiscriminate. And of course he doesn’t stop there. Not only is he going to the home of this Pharisee, he’s also breaking all the rules at the home he’s going to. With Jesus comes the people who are with him and following him. If you invite Jesus over for dinner, he’ll probably bring his friends. And in this case, a woman in the city, who was a sinner. We don’t know who this woman is—she’s not given a name—though the writer of the text identifies her and points out that she is a known sinner.

What it meant in that context to be “a sinner” has a variety of possibilities, but what’s clear is that it was a culturally bound part of her identity at this point, it’s how people refer to her, how she is known in the community. This woman, a sinner, finds out that Jesus is there and comes into the house, bringing an alabaster jar of ointment. She stands behind him, at his feet, weeping, and begins to bathe his feet with her tears and dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.

Now Jesus’ host comes in, the Pharisee. Remember, this is a man who distinguishes himself by strict observance of the traditional and written law, and commonly has pretensions to superior sanctity. This man, the Pharisee, says, “If this man were really a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.” If this guy is really a rabbi, a faithful teacher, a prophet, he would never go against the moral and religious codes, He wouldn’t be allowing a woman, especially one who is a known “sinner” be in the same room with him, let alone touch his feet and anoint him. If this man is actually a faithful person of God, he would never allow himself to interact with someone who was so clearly out of the order of everything that defines the religious and acceptable.

At this point I picture Jesus looking at him, looking him deeply in the eyes, maybe shaking his head just a bit, and addressing him by name, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” And Jesus goes on to tell a short little moralistic tale—A creditor had two people who owed—one owed five hundred denarii, the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. And then he asks this question:

“Now which of them will love him more?”

Simon answers, “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt.”

“You have judged rightly,” Jesus said.

Now we might stop there, just taking this as a simple moralistic tale, a bit of a smack down to this Pharisee, Jesus even somewhat accepting the premise that the Pharisee puts this woman, this “sinner” into, but calling for forgiveness. The creditor forgives both, the large debt and the small, indiscriminately. All are forgiven. But then comes the kicker, the forgiveness is sure and complete and available for all, it’s how we receive it, what we do with it, what our response is—that is where the great love comes in.

On Thursday evening a number of us gathered over at the pub for Theological Thursdays and discussed the inexhaustible topic of—God. We started with this premise—that God is Love. Not just in a cheery Sunday School way, but God is love as the source of all things in the Universe, God is love as the ground of all being, God is love as the creative force that breathed over the waters, the one who’s image we’re made in, the spirit and breath that sustains us each moment. If the essence of God is this kind of love, then the way of the Pharisee, the way of delineation, separation, and judgment, is not the way of God.

We wrestled deeply together, tracing theological threads and seeing how our view of God matters. How we see God matters. How we see God affects how we see ourselves, and how we see each other.

Emanuel Swedenborg wrote that, “Our image of God is like the first link in a chain, on which all our theology depends on.” –Emanuel Swedenborg, True Christianity

If we believe that God is all about judgment and who’s in and who’s out; if we believe that God is routinely angry with us, or that our worth in God’s eyes is based on an adherence to a specific religious or moral code or system; if we believe that God’s primary concern is dividing out who is “good” and who is “bad”, who is a “sinner” and who is “righteous,” then we see how we also look at the world and ourselves and other human beings around us in this context as well.

If I believe that God will only love and accept me based on my adherence to specific behaviors, then I will do whatever it takes to assure myself of this love. As humans, we like to make sure that we’re okay. A very human way to do this is to make sure that others aren’t. The Pharisee is a classic example; we do this and see this all the time. Articulating a moral code, a delineation of the value of a group of people, and then claiming it as the way of God. Putting rules and hierarchy and separation between people and God.

And then we see how violence is justified in the name of God, if a person is of a different religion, or skin color, or sexual orientation. If one’s concept of who God is reinforced with ideology and a culture that allows and extols violent acts on other humans, on other creations of God, and uses the name of God or a specific moral context in this justification, friends, this is deeply problematic—this is dangerous.

It is harmful and dangerous when we have an image of God that creates and reinforces the shame that we feel about the parts of ourselves that are vulnerable. It is harmful and dangerous when our own shame and insecurity then leads us to need to shore ourselves up by distinguishing ourselves from others and assuring ourselves of our right-ness by defining ourselves against others. It is harmful and dangerous when one can then begin to justify anger and violence against other people, specifically people that have become deemed “sinners” or outcasts, or the “other side.”

I had such a twisted pit in my stomach when I woke up this morning to the newsfeeds of another mass shooting, 50 people dead, in a nightclub in Orlando, and not any nightclub, but a gay nightclub, a place where those of various sexual orientation can go and find sanctuary, and safety, and community, and joy in a world that is struggling to see and embrace all people as sacred and valued.

I feel outrage and grief about the hatred, and, as my colleague Rev. Dr. Jacqui Lewis tweeted this morning, “Hatred with a gun in hand is a murderer.” We don’t all the intentions, and more details are coming forward. But what I do know is that hate was acted upon and people’s lives were lost. There are people grieving deeply today, because of hate. I want to be very very clear, that hate needs to be seen as what it is, and be alert and aware of how it can manifest in ourselves as well. So let’s just stop right now, and commit to standing with the way of love, no matter who or what ideology this is ascribed to.

What we do know today, is that hate and division and violence was acted upon last night and that far too many lives were ended and that far too many people are grieving today, and that fear is present for so many. And what we do know is that building on that fear, attaching our fear to any group of people, this is not the way of God, this is not the way that Jesus shows us, this is not how we need to be treating our human family. Let’s stand with our Muslims brothers and sisters and siblings—this will be incredibly important as this dialog continues to unfold. Let us stand with our LGBTQ friends and family and community members as yet another attack at personhood is being felt. Let us stand, in ourselves, in our communities in love, stand and face the fear.

Throughout the gospels we are encouraged towards a different way, to a way of peace, a way that rejects division and violence, a way of the Divine Love, and love between all creation, a love that is so much greater than any hate or division or hurt.

If God is the expansive force of love in the Universe, the very love and wisdom that comes into action and infills everything of creation, then Jesus, the Divine slipped into human skin, shows us this way of love. That the way of Divine Love is indiscriminate with who She eats with, the way of Divine Love breaks down all that human fear and shame and insecurity divides, the way of Divine Love forgives all without hesitation, and assures us of our belonging and worth by the very nature of being created out of this love.

When the woman, the known “sinner” in the community encountered Jesus, she encountered a return to herself, to her creator, to the wholeness that she was created in. Having become defined to the community, and likely even to herself, as this worthless “sinner” her return to wholeness, to being beloved, was monumental. This was not just an ideological or theoretical change for her, this forgiveness that she received and embraced from Jesus changed everything for her. No longer the outcast, the other, the shamed and shameful, she with grateful confidence walked straight into the house of that uptight, rule-based Pharisee and shamelessly expresses her gratitude for healing, for forgiveness, for love. She pours out her appreciation, and even in her expressions she’s returned to community, returned to wholeness.

She entered the house with the community, touched this teacher, this prophet, anointed him with oil, washed his feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. She knows the depth of the pain and anguish that comes when we are separated from God, separated from each other, separated from the deep knowing of our whole selves. She knows shame—shame from her choices and actions, shame from what others have placed upon her, shame from living on the edges of society.

“Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”

She knows what a big deal it is to receive and believe this deep and foundational love of the Divine, and her response is indicative of it. She pours out love. In response to deep love, she loves; in response to complete forgiveness, she loves; in response to a new start, she loves. “Go in peace” Jesus tells her.

Dear ones, this message of deep love, this challenge to forgive and be forgiven to our wholeness in our creator, this challenge is as crucial and imperative today as it was in our gospel text. Our personal work of spiritual growth and being healed and restored to our belonging to God and our belonging to each other is the work of healing the world. As we receive and deeply integrate the love and wholeness we are created in and for, we find our response is love—love to God and love to our neighbor. All our neighbors. Especially those that society has shamed and pushed to the edges. And when we receive that affirmation, that assurance of God’s expansive and unconditional love, when we clear out what separates and divides and accept that which is of God, we are changed. And we love. It’s not about the shame anymore or the suffering or as the poet Mary Oliver so powerfully said, “walk(ing) on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.” When we embrace and receive this expansive love of God, we are changed, we are forgiven, and we respond to others in love.

And each time we respond in love, there is healing. There is healing each time we see other human beings and respond with love, truly believing that they too belong to God and that we belong to each other, each time that we choose compassion over violence, forgiveness over hate, each time we stand with those who are being separated and pushed to the edges in our community, each time we speak with the power of love in the face of hate, each time we let “the soft animal nature of our bodies love what it loves.” As we grieve together, as “I tell you my despair and you tell me yours.” There is healing as we lament and cry out for a world where hatred and fear and violence cease to dominate, all of this. All of this in the name of love.

And dear ones, I believe, not just in my head, but to the very core of my being, deep in that place where my very hope and purpose to keep getting up, to showing up, depends on it, that God is love. That the Divine force of Love that is the very essence of the universe is holding us, holding all of it, and is always reaching out, loving, forgiving, healing and calling us forward in the way of love. Divine Love is reminding us that we are not alone, that we belong to God, we belong to each other. No matter the harshness of the moment, the Spirit, like those wild geese, is calling out, over and over, announcing our place in the family of things.

Go in peace friends; go in love.