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“Our Stories ARE God’s Story” The Rev. Carole Wageman Trinity Episcopal Church, Shelburne, VT Pentecost 12A – September 4, 2011 Exodus 12:1-14, Psalm 149, Romans 13: 8-14, Matthew 18: 15-20
Over the past two weeks, we have been looking at Scripture through the lens of God’s Storyline. Specifically, that the power of Scripture is the power of the life stories contained therein. The hopes, dreams, struggles, strengths and shortcomings of the people of God -- whose lives we learn about in Scripture -- become the agents God chooses in order to make known his enduring love and powerful presence in our daily lives. These little bits and pieces of a much larger picture sometimes are the story of a lifetime, such as Moses’ story that began two weeks ago with the story of his birth --- continued last week with God’s Call to him to rescue the Hebrews from slavery – and moves forward in today’s reading that is the story of Passover. It is the culmination of a series of events putting pressure on Pharaoh who eventually yields and releases the enslaved Hebrews who head out to the wilderness with Moses to find their way to the Promised Land. Moses’ story was God’s Story and while we might not think our own stories are as dramatic as that of Moses, our own narratives bear some consideration because God does not only choose the Moses’ or the Davids or the Peters or those of our modern day like Martin Luther King Jr. God’s Story is also planted in the lesser stories about which we know relatively little – the ancient midwives of Moses birth story, the writers of the Psalms, the Marys, the Marthas, the Zaccheus’, the Nicodemus’ and the Joseph of Arimatheas --- all those who are mentioned in Scripture through whom a bit or piece of God’s Story is reflected even in small ways. If we move off the page of scripture as it is written and step into the idea of a Living God who is not stuck as words on a piece of paper, we find that a whole new world of possibility opens up where Our Stories ARE God’s Story. Our stories are God’s Living Scripture. As mentioned last week, just as the ancients in Scripture did not know how their stories would turn out, neither do we. We wander and wonder much like anyone else in Bible stories as to what is God up to and where is my life leading. The most faithful thing we can do is to walk in trust that God intends the best for us and will live His Story through us if we trust Him to do that and allow ourselves to open to that mystery. But in today’s Gospel reading, there is a subtle component that is touched on that might just be at the heart of how God’s Story gets lived out in human lives. This particular reading in Matthew is a curious one. It is intriguing because it doesn’t “sound like” Jesus who is speaking. For one thing, this passage seems to suggest that there exists some kind of structured group called “a church” who are organized enough to need an orderly system of discipline that has several layers of process in dealing with members who have a falling out. That is pretty organized for a band of disciples going from place to place with their teacher. There was no organized church in Jesus’ day – that came later. Secondly, this passage implies that if someone cannot be reconciled to the body of believers after several tries that includes involving members of “the church that doesn’t yet exist”, they are to be treated as Gentiles or tax collectors --- outcasts to be shunned. This runs counter to so much else that Jesus ever taught and how he lived his life. If anything, Jesus hung out with outcasts and those considered to be sinners. He was frequently criticized by organized religion for breaking the orthodox “rules” of right behavior when it came to whom he spoke with, ate with and spent time with. His compassion did not shun the outcast, but made room for them. While this passage might well be something Matthew himself added much later as a response to an issue in the developing church, it probably touches on something Jesus actually did teach through the way he lived his life: Personal Connection. Eyeball to eyeball. If we step back from the words on the page and get in touch with what the author is trying to say, it seems to suggest that the gift of vulnerability to each other becomes the bridge that connects across the chasm of isolation, loneliness and misunderstanding and opens up a path of peace and reconciliation to which others are drawn. It is Connection and it is Community that frames the Story of how God works. As hard as it is to climb out of our protective, self-imposed isolation and truly encounter the love of another, it is the Window through which God’s narrative is experienced. This past year, there has been a profound story quietly unfolding here at Trinity and it came in the form of a well beloved vestry member who was dying. Holly Hungerford. Holly died this past July from metastatic breast cancer but it was the quality of living she did while she was dying that was profound. It feels like we experienced some kind of pivotal moment in the life of the entire congregation but I don’t really have the words for it yet. Last fall, we asked Holly to share her reflections on the stewardship theme: “Behold I am doing a new thing” and she opened her journey to us with vulnerability and grace and kept that door open until the day she moved into the next stage of life. Over the nine months since sharing her thoughts, many people both from this congregation and from the many other places where she had connections came forward wanting to help and walk this journey with her --- more help than she could use all at once at some points. What was it about Holly that people were responding to? What deep core of love and compassion was she touching through the way she chose to live her own story in our midst? Part of her Ministry Minute last October went like this: Holly Hungerford Ministry Minute -- 10/31/10 As many of you know, I was diagnosed this spring with metastisized breast cancer. There is no cure, only treatment. The typical path is to cycle through treatments, turning to a new one when the previous one no longer works. Only God knows how long this will continue. My oncologist says the average life expectancy is 2-5 years. Told in a nutshell like that, the situation sounds dire, and it certainly is a conversation stopper, but like Peter, James and John during the Transfiguration, of whom we are told “a cloud came and overshadowed them and they were terrified as they entered the cloud,” Jesus is with me. And behold he does a new thing in me, for within the pain, grief and fear, I am learning to have faith; to open my eyes and mind, heart and soul to His abiding love. I am finding, just as the Bible tells us we will, that God will give me all I need to make this journey. He provides strength when Mike and I go to hear test results. He provides comfort on the days grief and fear take over. He provides distractions when I need to lighten up, and courage when I need to make myself vulnerable and ask for help or simply talk about how I am feeling. This He does through the people around me, through nature, and – especially for the distraction part – our dogs and horses. In the Acts of the Apostles, after Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus that left him blind for three days, we hear that “something like scales fell from his eyes and he regained his sight.” That is what I have experienced, first with my initial diagnosis with breast cancer in 2006, and even more so now. Priorities suddenly fall into place, and I finally give the truly important things in my life the weight they deserve… …God has used this opportunity to do a new thing, to teach me about what it really means to live. And whether that’s for two years or 10, that’s a gift I shall never regret receiving. Like many of you, I walked in my own way with Holly offering what I could, but hers is a profound story of faith and I am still trying to wrap my head around why it feels so important to me. For one thing, I have seen its transformative effect in the lives of those who walked closely with Holly through her final months, weeks and days and if I step back and look at the larger picture, I see Holly living her life as full as she could and in that, she showed us our own humanity. In that, her vulnerability and availability became opportunities for God’s Story to shine through into our lives. So I want to share a few stories about Holly with you. Think of these as little window panes through which we can peek at something bigger at work. · I prayed with a child who made herself vulnerable and requested laying on of hands for healing prayers for Holly one morning when Holly came back with her headscarf on after her treatments resumed. This child sought God’s intercession on behalf of someone else in this congregation. That was a profound connection of love and caring. · Joanna Beall’s organizational gifts and incredible sensitivity to gracious hospitality became the container that allowed all of us to hold each other up as we paid homage to Holly’s life at her memorial service. I watched the cascade of email responses to Joanna’s request for food and help as this community poured itself out in love and grief and generosity to celebrate a life well lived. · Holly served on the vestry. She thought about stepping off since she might not be able to participate as fully as she would want to, but she didn’t and she didn’t quit. She did her very best and continued to serve sharing her wisdom and thoughtfully keen observations. Her voice is missed, but remembered. She made an impact with her compassion. · Darcy came to the Respite House on the day before Holly died with a blue silk scarf from China for Holly. The tradition in China is to give a blue scarf to someone when they are in transition whether that be getting married or having a child or getting a new job…or dying. It encircled Holly’s head like a halo in those last hours and the family made sure it went along and accompanied her in her life’s transition when her body was cremated. · Holly’s touch extended far beyond Trinity and the only clue I have about that is the weekly prayer hour she shared with a neighbor on Tuesday mornings. · The astounding story of the honeybees in the beehives she and another neighbor share. The day Holly got the devastating news that the cancer had returned, she arrived home only to learn that the bees had swarmed and left the nest to follow the Queen. And it became an intriguing metaphor for her own journey: she being the Queen surrounded by a loving group of friends and family holding her up on her journey just as the bees surrounded their Queen who was seeking a new nesting spot. · Advent quiet day --- Healing yoga --- high tea --- hat parties --- dinners --- gardening and giggles --- travel to Alaska to celebrate her and Mike’s tenth anniversary in June. · The determination and intentionality that she was going to live as a person of wholeness who just happened to have cancer and not as a sick person waiting to die was an awareness she gained and shared with others. · Holly’s journaling and profound writings that she treasured and which fed her soul are a written record providing the markers of her struggles and her healing. Holly’s Story IS God’s Story and because she found the grace to be vulnerable in the midst of her uncertain future, she enabled God’s light to shine into the lives of all she touched. We heard and watched and walked in that story and we responded. It spoke to something deep inside each of us who came close to her. And something powerful happened here in this congregation that I think some of us – maybe just me --- are still trying to figure out. Two weeks ago, I talked about the windows here and I mentioned a phrase that caught my eye from the May parish discernment meetings in answer to the question: “What drew you to Trinity?” The response that caught my attention was this: “The windows draw you in. The people keep you coming.” I pointed out that outside of the artistry and materials used in the creation of these priceless works of art, there is only one thing that makes them so beautiful. The Light ---The Light that comes through them. It is the light that shines through them that helps us see the beauty that is there. They were made to be used by the Light. These windows are part of Trinity’s story, but it is the People of God in this place who are the real windows and the priceless story. We are a people of the Story – God’s Story – made to be used by God’s Light. That is what makes us so potentially beautiful. In our crazy, complicated world, it is tempting to become anesthetized by the overwhelming difficulties and challenges of politics and economy and culture and war and loss and natural disasters both locally and abroad. It is so easy to pull a shade down on our loveliness and hunker down to wait out a storm that just never seems to end, does it? But therein lies our story’s opportunity. For example: Hurricane Irene has devastated parts of Vermont, while leaving us relatively unscathed here in Shelburne and we can breathe a sigh of relief at being spared; but is that the Story that God has placed in us? We are made to be used by the Light and perhaps --- as suggested in a quote by Joan Chittister from last week – “perhaps the future calls us to become a part of ourselves we did not realize we still needed to become” [1] There is a significant part of our community that is loving and gracious and generous --- that we willingly share with each other here --- and I’m wondering about how we be that healing touch…out there…especially now in the local areas all through Vermont from Brandon to Brattleboro and Waterbury to Wilmington to White River Junction just to name a few places in need. Maybe that is what Holly taught us and what Jesus held out for the newly forming community of faith: That finding the courage and resolve and integrity to live in vulnerability with each other – to live life generously --- to give ourselves for others --- to look at what we still need to become --- creates a portal through which we become available to God’s Story living in us in this place and in this time and opens a window through which God’s Story shines. As Dr. Rachel Remen says: “Perhaps the world is one big healing community and we are all healers of each other. Perhaps we are all angels. And we do not [yet] know.” [2]
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