Sermon of the Week
Elements of Worship–God Calls Us

A sermon preached at The Kirk of Kansas City, Missouri, on June 23, 2019.
First in a six part sermon series on essential components of Christian Worship

#pcusa

Keywords: Dentist, Job, God is God, Humility, Theodicy

Scripture readings (which you may wish to read prior):
Job 38:1-11, 34-38; 40:1-5
and John 1:1-9, 35-39a

To set the scene for today’s sermon,
I want to tell you about my dentist appointment this week.

I know the dentist makes some people cringe. I get it.
Even though we count a quite gifted, and gentle, dentist among our members,
for some, a trip to the dentist is something they least look forward to.
People feel that way about visits with a pastor sometimes, too.

I’ve always gotten along well with dentists, and hygienists.
I think it’s because I’ve never really had dental problems
unless you count having six wisdom teeth a problem.
Insert your favorite “he’s a wise-guy” joke here.

On Tuesday I went for my semi-annual check up
with my regular tooth cleaner
and she did her work and the dentist checked me out
and I went on my way.

All was fine.

Most of the dental appointment is spent chatting with the hygienist
or, to say it more accurately, to enjoy listening to her talk to me.
It’s not really possible to have an equal, give-and-take conversation when
she’s got all those tools in your mouth.

Over the years I’ve gotten to know quite a bit about her and her family–
she has a couple of boys, one in middle school and one high school now.
They’re about the age of our kids, so we can commiserate and celebrate
about a lot of the same things.

Sometimes, when she shares some of what’s going on with her older boy,
I can anticipate a bit about what our kids will go through soon.

I enjoy these conversations.
I like my hygienist.

She’s friendly and gentle and clearly tries to be a good parent
which has nothing to do with her cleaning skills
but makes chatting with her more comfortable.

On Tuesday, we were talking about what kids do during the summer,
when they don’t have the structure, or the stress, of school to contend with.
Her boys, for years, have gone away to camp in June.
Kids get a break from the parents. Parents get a break from the kids.
Win-win, she sees it.

Her younger boy went to camp this year as well.

She had hoped the older boy would go, too,
but it turns out that he wants to try out for JV soccer this year
and staying home to participate in the weekly kick-arounds
would be helpful for his prospects.

So, alas, no camp for him this year.

But she sees the summer like we do,
that it’s better for your kids to have things to do,
and since he’s old enough, they told him he’d have to get a job
if he decided not to spend the summer at camp.

So he got a job. He’s a lifeguard at a local pool.
It’s his first job: and he’s learning about schedules and getting there on time
and everything that goes with employment.

The older boy is fifteen and a half, so he has a restricted driver’s license
and he’s able to drive to and from the pool for work.
And they’re a three-car family, my hygienist told me
as she was working on my molars,
but two of those three are stick-shifts, alas,
and her son can’t drive a stick-shift.

So he drives her car, to and from work,
and she gets to drive the third one.
I didn’t get the impression that she is fond of this arrangement.

Last week, apparently, an indignity happened.
One of the other family cars broke down, and went to the shop.
So mom the hygienist got her car back
and the son had to ride his bike to and from the pool.

I didn’t catch how long that situation presented itself.
Maybe a day or two?

But it prompted her son to bring up the car to both parents
one evening at dinner.
So, when do we think I’ll get my car back?

Mom looked over at him:
I think you mean my car, don’t you son?

He looked back at her, without missing a beat:
I think, at best, we should say that it is our car, don’t you think Mom…

///
She laughed at that, to me, at any rate,
The hubris, the gall.
I think her response to him at the time
might have sounded more like our reading today from Job.

The kid didn’t even really help pay for gas
much less insurance and upkeep and car payments
or property taxes that help maintain the roads.

She didn’t mention it, but I wondered if you could add to that
a good car wash or even emptying out the back seat from time to time.

But you could tell that the conversation that night wasn’t all that pleasant
as they reminded their boy that just because he used that car
it wasn’t anything close to being his.

Who knows, maybe he rode his bike a few more times this week
just to drive the point home a little bit.

///
It has been a while since we’ve read from the Book of Job in worship.

Job is in a section of the Hebrew Scriptures called the Ketuvim
which translates, simply, as The Writings

eleven books that aren’t the musings of the Law, or the Torah
and aren’t the testimonies of the prophets, which are called the Nevi’im

The Ketuvim, or the writings, include works like Ruth, and Esther, the Song of Songs,
Lamentations and Ecclesiastes
as well as the Psalms and the Proverbs.

These are wisdom writings.

Narratives about faithful people.
Poems and songs and aphorisms about the good life following
the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

Job itself is a treatise on why people suffer
why people experience evil and hurt, and where is God in the middle of all of that. [Read more…]

Sermon of the Week
The Delight of Wisdom

A sermon preached at The Kirk of Kansas City, Missouri, on June 16, 2019.

#pcusa

Keywords: Trinity, Geese, Dad Jokes, Delight

Scripture readings (which you may wish to read prior):
Romans 5:1-5
and Proverbs 8: 1-4, 22-31

My pastor friend Rocky apparently reads deep into the New York Times.
He finds articles that are buried so deep that I often miss them.

One example is an article he shared this week by Jason Zinoman
with the headline: A Dad Defends Dad Jokes[i]

There were two that stood out. Two Dad Jokes:

Here’s One:
What rhymes with Orange? No, it doesn’t.

And then there was my favorite:
If at first you don’t succeed, don’t try skydiving.

Thank you, New York Times.

The article is, when you read it, a professional comic’s take on parental humor.

Now, the last thing we need is a professional dismantling
everything that makes parenting fun,
but I resonated with the whole thing,
mainly because my daughters think I tell bad jokes, too.

Like when the kid comes up to his dad and says,
Hey Dad, I’m hungry. Make me a sandwich.
            and the Dad says:
Ok. Abracadabra. You are…a sandwich.

Or my favorite:

How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?
Ten tickles.

Love it.

Well, I wouldn’t put it past you
if you felt that the following analogy
fits into something of a similar category. Forgive me.

I was reading a reflection about the church the other day by
Barbara Bundick, who shared her joy
in rediscovering a favorite book called “High-Flying Geese.”[ii]

It was published some thirty years ago, now.
And in it, the author, Browne Barr, compares the church,
even an ordinary, run of the mill, Christian congregation
just like this one, to a flock of geese.

Now, there are many unflattering comparison
that we could draw, if we wanted.
Some might wonder if we’re a noisy bunch,
HONKING for all we’re worth.
Others might ask if all we do is WADDLE around.
Maybe during coffee hour…?

His book apparently is full of these corny analogies. Dad jokes, if you will.

But that’s not Barr’s point.
Barr is not trying to chide us into doing better.
Or have us groan our way, and move on.

When Barr speaks of geese,
he is not describing the flightless gaggle of the farmyard,
nor the flocks of nuisances that plague golf courses.

Instead, he wants to entice us with the vision of geese in flight, you know,
dancing and diving in delirious freedom. He’s not joking.

Geese in flight are beautiful, one of God’s most gracious creations.
And, according to Geese Experts (did you know there WERE “Geese Experts”):
According to Geese Experts, they are also an aerodynamic marvel.

Geese in their vee flight formation travel seventy percent faster
than any single goose can travel alone.  Seventy percent.

The goose that holds the head position at the front of the vee
does not have a harder job than any other goose.
The aerodynamic drafting that helps the whole flock travel faster,
helps the head goose travel faster as well.

Moreover, the geese share leadership.
They take turns heading the vee.

They function as ONE body, a body in flight,
joyously honking their boasting hopes,
their share in the glory of God.

///

Here’s his point:
The church in flight is also beautiful,
a miraculous creation of the Holy Spirit.

Last week, Pentecost, we celebrated
the birthday of the church in the fires of the Holy Spirit.

Today, Trinity Sunday, we celebrate the love
that pours out from the community of one God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, mother of us all
the divine love that creates, redeems, and sustains,
the wind beneath our goosey wings.

///
So, like a flock of geese, we travel onward. It’s not a bad way to go.
So much better than staying stuck on the ground.

But before we start flying, lets talk about walking, or better yet,
let’s talk about WADDLING.

Because, let’s face it:
There’s something about Paul’s words from Romans today that waddles.

This is graduation season, a season for seniors
receiving diplomas and looking forward to a bright future.

It is a season of transition for others as well:
In the past few weeks, Alpha Montessori had their end-of-year celebrations
and I was delighted to be at Center Middle School
for their annual “rise-up” recognition ceremonies.

These were wonderful events.
But I’ve been to not-so-wonderful graduations, haven’t you?
And there are times that reading Paul can sound just like
a windy, sleep-inducing speaker at a commencement address
droning on and on, you know,
about how suffering produces endurance,
and endurance produces character,
and character produces hope, and so on and so forth.

We figure that by the time the windy speaker is done
we’ll have endured so much
that we’ll have all the character we ever need.

And Graduates don’t want to hear this sort of advice, do they?
Graduates cannot bear the thought that the future will be anything but rosy.
And sometimes, neither can we.

We’d all prefer to go through life with rose-colored glasses
assured that it will all be peaches and ice-cream.

But, and this is important: we know that life isn’t like that. We know.
So I hope we don’t tune out what Paul is trying to say here. [Read more…]