Keep in Touch

Keep in Touch
February 8, 2009
Montclair UMC, Denver, CO
Rev. Kerry Greenhill

Isaiah 40:21-31
Mark 1:29-39

I sent out my annual Christmas letter by email this year.
On January 6th.
Among my friends, I was not the last to do so.
After all, we save paper, save money on stamps,
and reduce the clutter on other people’s counters.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
It used to be that keeping in touch
meant writing letters
with pen and paper
or perhaps a typewriter;
making an occasional long-distance phone call
and lots of visits –
I know many of you remember those days
and don’t understand why no one writes letters any more.
The ways we keep in touch today
don’t have much to do with actual touch:
email, cell phones, text messaging, facebook
virtual communities are springing up all over
and people are communicating their whole lives
to an unseen, unknown audience (or readers)
through blogs (weblogs), vlogs, YouTube,
webcams, Twitter updates and chat rooms.
We seem to be a society
that has overdeveloped the technologies for communication
and risks neglecting real face-to-face relationships.
Yet I think the human instinct for physical connection will prevail.

Touch is something we literally cannot live without.
It is necessary for human life.
It signifies relationship, presence, intimacy.
It can bring healing, wholeness, wellness, health.

Jesus was a great practitioner of touch.
He touched those who were considered
“untouchable” by society,
healing the sick, those troubled by demons,
even those who had experienced disability since birth.
More than the physical cure, though,
the touch of Jesus restored people to wholeness:
he restored them to relationship with others,
to connection with their community.

In today’s story from Mark,
We continue straight on from last week’s reading –
it’s the Sabbath,
Jesus has gone to synagogue in Capernaum,
and cast an unclean spirit out of a man,
provoking awe and wonder among those who are gathered:
he teaches with authority!
Meaning, his ability to put words into action is unmatched.

Jesus then goes home with Simon & Andrew;
it turns into a “working lunch,”
as religious leaders sometimes have with their parishioners.
Learning that Simon’s mother-in-law is ill with a fever,
Jesus touches her, takes her by the hand,
and lifts her up – described in language that calls to mind
both Jesus’ body raised up on the cross
and the Eucharistic bread lifted up for blessing
in the last supper
and our remembrance of it.
And she is healed of her fever,
and gets up and serves them.

Do we bristle that Simon’s mother-in-law, who isn’t even named,
is healed of a potentially life-threatening fever
only to get up and go about the domestic chores
of serving these male guests?
I think we can be pretty confident
that this story about Jesus is not trying to teach us
that women should focus on household chores
rather than taking the time they need to be well.
There are plenty of other stories
about the ways in which Jesus sets women free
from the bondage of gender-restricted domestic roles,
to counteract a possible misinterpretation here.
No, this unnamed woman,
defined by her dependence on her male relations,
is touched by Jesus
and restored to life and service.
This is not about getting on with domestic servitude,
but being freed for servant ministry.
I’ll come back to that in a minute.

Jesus knew how to keep in touch with others.
I mean, we have no records of any letters he may have written;
we don’t know if he did follow-up visits
with those he had healed
to ensure they were making a full recovery.
But he was in touch with the reality of people’s lives.
He knew about the pain and suffering
of those who were unseen and untouched
by most of society.
He came to synagogue and cast out a demon.
He went to Simon and Andrew’s house
and healed Simon’s mother-in-law.
When the Sabbath was over at sundown,
he healed the dozens or hundreds who came to the door
seeking healing, wholeness, restored relationship.

But he also took time apart from the crowds,
while it was still dark,
seeking out a deserted place to pray.
He knew he needed to keep in touch with God.
This is a pattern that is repeated throughout the Gospels:
Jesus teaches, heals, engages people
and then he withdraws to pray.

It’s the disciples who want Jesus
to be more than in touch:
they want him to be constantly available,
defined by the expectations of the crowd,
anxiously trying to please others,
easing their own anxiety.

Sound familiar?
When thinking about our communication technologies today,
what worries me even more than their touchlessness
is that there seems no limit
to our belief in the goodness of reachability,
of perpetual sharing of what was once considered private.
We have lost a sense of boundaries.
Reality TV shows, Blackberrys and iPhones
have us convinced that fulfillment in life
means constant connection with as many people as possible,
or at least availability to all people at all times.
I’m as drawn in as anyone of my generation –
I love the way Facebook allows me to know
what my friends from all stages of my life
and now located all around the world
are doing at any given moment,
and the way they can comment on my own “status updates”
in real time.

More and more, our world is being drawn into the belief
that “community” or “intimacy”
is defined not by depth of communion
or the hard work of living together in love,
but by the surface area of our lives
that is available for public consumption.

There’s a website called LarkNews.com
that offers fake news stories,
satire with a Christian flavor.
Their current edition includes the following article:

LEWISTON, Maine — Recently, several hundred members of Holy Trinity Church watched pastor Jeremy Woods eat breakfast, work on his sermon and make a Starbucks run. Woods had just joined a growing group of pastors who are broadcasting their lives 24/7 on the Internet.
"When I first heard of going live I thought, 'This is the future of pastoring but I'm not sure I like it,'" Woods says. But after a month he says he "totally digs it."
"It's the next step beyond blogging or even live blogging," he says. "It's about sharing life."
The trend is believed to have started in 2004 when Rick Givens of New York's West Side Church decided to make himself "more accountable and accessible" by webcasting every waking moment live. But his pioneering effort has forced other pastors into awkward decisions. Donald Taylor, 37, of Nebraska didn't want to go live, but relented because of pressure from his board. He hated his first week.
"It was like being in prison. You never have a moment to yourself," he says.
But soon he began to enjoy having a constant audience. His wife particularly likes it because "he behaves more," she says. "It's like having God looking over your shoulder. You never know who's watching."

Jesus models for us
the importance of staying in touch
not with the crowds who define social norms and expectations,
but with God,
the Source of Life.

I suspect many of you are more faithful than I am
about making time for God in your lives.
Don’t be shocked!
Ministers often feel that our whole work life revolves around God
and we forget that we need to relate to God
not as an object, the theme of our vocation,
but as the Holy One who actively calls us to this sacred work,
and who wants to remain in relationship with us,
as Someone who might actually have wisdom to share with us
as we travel this journey together.

This keeping in touch with God can happen in different ways.
For some people, reading the Bible brings them close to God
and allows them to hear God’s Word for them in new ways.
For others, prayer is like a conversation,
describing what is happening in their lives
and asking for God’s help and guidance.
Still others know God’s presence most through stillness and silence,
Resting in God’s love without the need for words.
Perhaps you keep in touch with God by walking in the park,
or spending time with your grandchildren,
volunteering to help those in need,
or gardening or cooking or building things or creating art.

Keeping in touch with God is important
not only because God wants to stay in close relationship with us,
but also because it is how we become our best selves.
God loves us unconditionally:
the everlasting, Holy One of Israel,
renewer of strength and unsearchable of understanding,
is the one who redeems us and sustains us
for the work of building the kingdom,
the work for which God created us and to which God calls us.
But as humans with a tendency to turn from God
and to miss the mark of what God desires for us,
if we only keep in touch with ourselves
and with the people around us,
we run the risk of being driven
not by love
but by fear.
We are anxious creatures sometimes.
And when a bunch of anxious people get together,
they like nothing better than to spread the anxiety –
after all, then there are more people to carry the burden, right?
The problem is that anxiety multiplies.
Misery loves company,
not always so it can feel better,
but sometimes so others can feel just as bad.

We see that happening here with Jesus and the disciples.
Jesus has a very successful day on the trail,
having just begun his campaign for the kingdom.
Exorcisms, healings, teaching with authority:
all received well and giving him a big surge in the polls.
And then he disappears.
Now, Simon, Andrew, James and John
have only recently been drafted onto Jesus’ team.
They’ve only seen him in action a little while,
and this is the first time he’s pulled this stunt on them.
It won’t be the last…
but they don’t know that yet.
They get up early in the morning to plan the day,
maybe grab some breakfast before the healing clinic opens again,
and Jesus is nowhere to be found.
He’s vanished.
Panic sets in.
Where did he go?
What is he doing?
What if we can’t find him?
What will the people think?
We’d better find him, and fast!
So they hunt him down,
and find him,
predictably to our ears
but apparently a surprise to all of them,
spending time alone in prayer.

When they meet up with Jesus,
the disciples can’t quite admit
how scared they were
about his absence.
Everyone is searching for you,
they tell him.
We weren’t too worried,
but all those people out there—
those who are sick, the ones with demons—
they didn’t know what to do!
You’d better come back fast
and get to work helping them
before they get too worried.

But Jesus isn’t fazed.
He’s been keeping in touch with the Creator,
waiting upon the Lord,
renewing his strength
through communion with the everlasting God.
He has been refreshed
in his understanding of what his purpose is.
In response to the disciples’ anxious clinging, he says,
Let us go on to the neighboring towns,
so that I may proclaim the message there also;
for that is what I came out to do.

Perhaps Jesus knows that if he stays in Capernaum,
people will become focused on his ability to heal
and to cast out demons,
and they will cling to him as a wonder-worker,
not looking to God to renew their strength
and not empowered to serve one another
as Simon’s mother-in-law is.

You see,
what is interesting to me
about the healing of this unnamed woman,
is that her immediate response is not worship,
not words of gratitude,
not wonder or amazement,
but immediate commitment
to self-giving service.
The Greek word translated as “serves” in this verse
is the same word translated in some versions as “ministers”
as the angels ministered to Jesus at the end of his time in the desert.
It is also the word from which we get the English word “Deacon.”
Simon’s mother-in-law is healed from her fever,
and she begins a servant ministry as the first deacon.
She is the first one healed to respond so whole-heartedly.
And though Mark has yet to tell us
that what it means for Jesus to be the Son of God
is that he is willing to serve others,
and even to suffer and die,
here we have a kind of foreshadowing,
an implicit teaching of what it means
to become a disciple,
to be touched by God through Jesus:
not only to leave behind one’s family and livelihood,
but to get up and serve
on a day that permits rest
as a sign of love and kingdom commitment.

We are finite, flawed, and fallen;
We need to stay in touch with God,
for it is “waiting” for God
that will renew our strength
and reveal our purpose, our vocation,
our mission.
We, too, need to learn when it is time to move on
to continue to spread the Gospel
in other places,
whether literally moving in space,
or spiritually moving on to the next phase of our lives.
We cannot linger in the luxury
of the miracle of healing,
nor dwell in the demands of the needy crowd.
Keeping in touch with God
allows us to find our deepest, best selves,
to know how our heart’s deep joy
can rise up to meet
the world’s deep need,
not trying to fix everything
or save everyone,
but bearing witness to God’s healing touch
in whatever small way we can.
May you know God’s touch
and be empowered to serve.
Amen.

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent. As the season of preparation for Easter, Lent is a time of repentance (which means turning around), of walking through the wilderness and coming face to face with the things that would lead us away from God, of choosing practices that continually re-turn our focus toward God. Ash Wednesday typically focuses on remembering our mortality, and considering what disciplines will shape our lives during Lent. Here is a poem I wrote a couple years ago to mark the day.

Ash Wednesday

bend the knee
bow the heart
let dust and ashes leave their mark
the sign of cross
and grave and tomb
the earth we come from stakes its claim
we sing
we pray
we confess
we speak truth in the face of self-delusion
we sing mercy, Lord,
have mercy
we bend the knee
we turn around
and face to face
we see each other
also marked
by life in death
also claimed
by cross and flame
also humbled
also loved
also seeking
also forgiven
and we remember
we remember
we remember
whose we are
and where we shall return
and in the midst of grieving
we give thanks.

To See Our Lives Whole

A sermon I preached last summer that was recorded on DVD and submitted to my Board of Ordained Ministry as part of my materials to be considered for ordination this year. Turns out it could have been broken into two sermons, but I've included the whole thing here anyway. Blessings!

To See Our Lives Whole
Rev. Kerry Greenhill
Highlands UMC, Denver, CO
July 6, 2008

Colossians 3:15-16

I’d like you to think for a moment
about a few questions I have for you.
How often do you experience God’s presence in church?
How about in other settings?
If God is everywhere, always available to us,
why bother coming to a church building
at a specific time on Sunday morning?
Can’t we honor God just as easily
hiking in the mountains
meeting friends for brunch
or spending time at home with our families?
Why do churches have so many different ways
of doing worship, anyway?
Is one style really better than the others?

These questions may sound familiar;
my guess is many of you may have asked them yourself
at one time or another,
or maybe someone in your life
has asked them of you.
They’re reasonable questions, after all.
How would you answer?

For all our preoccupation with worship style today,
a person might begin to think
that the form of worship is of primary concern
in the Bible, from Genesis on down.
But the truth is,
the Bible doesn’t advocate just one specific way
in which we are to worship God.
Oh, there’s plenty of concern
that the one true God of Israel
should be the focus of our worship,
rather than the gods or idols of other nations.
And the temple in Jerusalem,
the central site for Jewish worship
from the tenth century BCE
until its destruction in the first century of the Common Era,
is the focus of many of the psalms of praise
in which the Israelites take delight
in journeying to worship God.
St Paul gives instructions for celebrating the Lord’s Supper,
so that it resembles a ritual more than a free-for-all feast,
and we know that followers of Jesus
met on the first day of the week
to celebrate the Resurrection
beginning almost immediately after his death
and that over time, as more Gentiles joined the movement,
this practice replaced the Jewish tradition
of worshiping on the Sabbath, the seventh day.
We know that there were “psalms, hymns,
and spiritual songs,”
and we can pick out a few of them
from the early Christian writings that have been preserved,
but the truth is that there was a variety of worship styles
from the very beginning.
So the Bible doesn’t tell us very much
about what our worship,
in our time and cultural context
should look or sound or feel like.

If you’ve done a little church-hopping
or church-shopping, as the case may be,
chances are you’ve experienced some of that variety.
But then again, those of us who grow up
in predominantly white mainline Protestant congregations
tend to stick with what we know.
And mostly what we know here
is variations on what today is called
Liturgical Worship.
Sometimes “high-church,” sometimes “low,”
Liturgical Worship focuses on proclaiming the Word
in rational and reasonable ways,
teaching and forming committed Christians
that they might grow deeper
in their understanding of the faith
and more mature in their walk with Christ.
God is most often seen as “wholly other,” transcendent,
worthy of honor and awe:
that’s where we get our word worship,
from the Old English “weorth-scipe.”
The formality of the “liturgical” style,
with its written prayers and order of worship,
its classic hymnody that engages the intellect,
creates regular patterns in the life of faith.
Each Sunday we know more or less what to expect;
each year we move through the same seasons
of the liturgical calendar.
And at best, the Spirit works through all of these
to form our minds and hearts
into the image of God in Christ.

Yet there are those who consider “liturgy”
to be nothing more than meaningless ritual,
rote memorization of prayers or Scripture ,
hymns that are old-fashioned and incomprehensible,
even offensive to the modern—or postmodern—mind.

And so, in the past 30 or 40 years,
the “Praise and Worship” style has emerged,
bringing high-energy music
enhanced by modern technology
to overcome the stereotype of worship’s cold formality
in order to appeal to the emotions.
In place of the classic hymns,
contemporary praise choruses are sung,
with a very different goal
than the rational teaching of Scripture or doctrine:
these choruses seek to create an environment of sound
in which singers lose themselves.
Repetition serves the same function
as a mantra in meditation,
transporting participants from earth to heaven
and shaping one’s life throughout the week
as the words and music come to mind again and again.

There are dozens of other styles of worship,
or variations within the larger categories.
If you’ve ever heard a traditional African-American sermon,
or heard someone speaking in tongues
at a Pentecostal church,
If you’ve smelled the incense in a Catholic
or Anglican cathedral,
or sat in the silence of a Quaker meeting,
you know that God is not limited to any one culture
or style of worship gathering.

But still the question remains,
why is it necessary
to do this weird thing called Christian worship
at all?

It might help to define more clearly
one of the words I used earlier,
and which we use regularly here at Highlands.
Although people commonly use the word “liturgy” or “liturgical”
to refer to a particular style of worship,
or specific pieces of worship,
the origin of the word, from the Greek leitourgia,
means “the work of the people”—
originally it didn’t refer specifically to religious work,
but could mean general public works
for the good of the whole community,
such as building a road
or engaging in legislative action. (p.14)
Whenever people work together
to serve the common good,
they are performing liturgy in its broadest sense.

Of course, the liturgy of the church
has traditionally focused on glorifying God,
expressing praise and awe before the Awesome One,
and humbling ourselves before God.
But I can’t help thinking
that there’s more to it than that.

For one thing,
surely we can express our praise
and humble ourselves before God
in private, just one-on-one,
without having to get up early on Sunday
and drive across town
to sing strange songs and perform archaic rituals.
Right?
That’s what folks who identify as
spiritual-but-not-religious
argue.
So there must be some purpose
in getting together with other people
and doing this all in a particular way,
for the practice to have survived all these centuries
and to be so universally affirmed
within Christian tradition
as a “means of grace,”
to use the language of John Wesley.

But secondly,
that idea of expressing praise and awe of God,
or humbling ourselves before God,
assumes a particular kind of understanding
of the relationship between God and humanity,
and in my mind,
overlooks a great deal
about the reality of our lives.

If the Gospel of Jesus Christ
is truly Good News,
then it must be good news for our whole lives.
And while there can be great spiritual value
in remembering that we are but dust,
and to dust we shall return,
in proclaiming that God is the Almighty Creator of the universe,
and nothing we do of our own accord
will earn God’s love for us,
there are other spiritual truths
that we need to hear,
details of our lives that need the touch of the Holy Spirit,
and seasons when praising God
is the last thing we feel able to do.

How we worship both reflects and shapes
our image of God.

Now, I don’t believe that God is some distant king
enthroned in heaven, far away,
demanding our submission
controlling the events of our lives
like a puppeteer holding all the strings.

And neither is God the stern school principal,
watching our every move
evaluating whether we have perfect attendance
or are breaking the rules.
(No offense, Brian!)

No, we have come to know God as loving and gracious,
revealed in the life, teachings, death and rising
of Jesus whom we call Christ.
God has come out to meet us where we are,
to live among us as one of us,
to love and serve people like us
and even people like those whom we despise.

And so, I believe God does not need our worship
in the way that a child needs our love;
God is much bigger than that.
The Hebrew prophets testify
that God is more concerned
about how we practice mercy and justice
toward one another
than whether we perform the prescribed rituals appropriately.

But God does meet us in worship,
whether we know it or not,
whether we feel it or not.

In some ways, God is the audience of worship.
That’s right, folks,
what Pastor Betty and the musicians and I
do up here in the chancel area
isn’t primarily for your applause or approval.
Rather, we come as facilitators,
prompters to you, as the people of God,
who are the ones performing the work of the liturgy.
All that we do is designed to draw attention
not to ourselves, but to God.
Not to ask you to admire our skill,
but to open a space
for all of us to enter into prayer
and to encounter God directly.

Yet even as we recognize
that God is a primary audience for our worship,
we do want the way that we express our worship
to connect with everyone present.
Of course, our goal is not entertainment
or individual gratification,
but the full participation of all
in a life-giving and redemptive encounter with God
through the gathered community.
For I believe that corporate worship
is one of the primary ways
that we can open our hearts and our lives to God
to be formed and transformed
into the image of God
as we die to the death-dealing forces of the world
and rise with Christ to a life abundant and eternal,
a life of justice, compassion, and love.

When we can bring the whole of our lives before God
and one another
in a way that is honest and humble,
both about our joys and concerns,
our failures and our successes,
our hope and our grief,
our doubts and our abiding faith,
then we may encounter God
in healing and reassurance,
in forgiveness and reconciliation.
We gather with the community of faith
both to receive the gifts and support of others
when we are lacking, lopsided, or losing ourselves,
and also because we are all vital ingredients
in this mystical, ridiculous, half-baked thing we call church,
and there are times when we ourselves
are the gifts that others need.

We come to encounter God,
not primarily, I think, as insignificant peons
before an all-powerful monarch,
But as children invited out
by the Spirit
to meet God on the playground
and to swing side-by-side/
Or as friends invited
to share a feast
at the table and in the home
of a loving and gracious host.

Worship also offers a glimpse into the deeper meaning
of all the ways we live out our faith during the week:
We practice hospitality in offering the peace of Christ
and welcoming all to the Communion table;
we care for one another in our prayers;
we repent of the ways we fall short of God’s will
and lament the brokenness of our world,
even as we commit ourselves anew to working for justice
and the realization of God’s reign on earth.

In taking the ordinary items and actions of our lives—
bread and cup, water, music, embrace, story, song—
and revealing God in Christ through them
during a time specifically set aside for focusing on the holy,
we learn to see how all of life
has the potential to become a sacrament:
preparing a meal, washing the dishes,
welcoming the stranger, laughing with children,
speaking out for justice, or holding hands with loved ones.

At its best,
worship allows us to bring our whole selves,
our whole lives, into God’s presence
and the presence of the beloved community,
to hear the Good News,
to know God’s love,
to strengthen one another,
to see the sacred in the ordinary,
and so to encounter God,
the Holy One who came among us in the person of Jesus
and who comes among us
as Word made flesh still today.

We come to remember who we are
and whose we are;
we come to remember our mission:
to live out God’s love
and so proclaim the Good News to all the world.
We come to remind ourselves
of the Story in which we place ourselves,
God’s Story that incorporates our individual stories
into something much bigger,
full of meaning and glory.
We come to let the word of Christ
dwell in us richly,
to teach and admonish one another in all wisdom;
and with gratitude in our hearts
to sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.

We come to see our lives whole
and to know that they matter,
to God
and to one another.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

The Gospel According to Finding Nemo

The Gospel According to Finding Nemo
Highlands & Montclair UMCs, Denver, CO
Sunday, October 26, 2008

Isaiah 43:1-2

The world is full of many joys and wonders,
as well as many dangers, toils and snares.
When you’re a little fish in a big ocean,
it’s sometimes hard to know which is which.

Marlin is a clownfish, orange and white stripes,
living with his wife Coral in a beautiful anemone home
right on the edge of the reef,
where the sand below drops off to deep water.
They are the proud expectant parents of 400 little clownfish,
incubating in their jelly-like eggs,
when tragedy strikes:
a barracuda attacks.
Marlin tries to protect his family
and is knocked unconscious.
He wakes to find that his wife
and all but one of the eggs
are gone.
Devastated, Marlin promises little Nemo,
as the remaining egg is named,
never to let anything happen to him.

Nemo turns out to be a spirited young clownfish
with one undersized fin
who is eager to explore the world
and excited to start school.
His father has grown extremely cautious
and overprotective of his only son,
worried about all the things that can go wrong,
especially because of what he sees
as Nemo’s disability, the “lucky” fin.
The joy that Marlin once felt in his home and family
becomes clouded by his fear
that he could lose it all
again.
And when Marlin follows Nemo’s class
on their field trip to the drop-off,
warning and scolding Nemo not to swim in open water,
Nemo’s frustration turns into defiance
and he swims out to touch a small boat anchored nearby.
Before he can return to the safety of the reef,
two divers appear,
and one scoops up Nemo in a little plastic bag,
the other blinding Marlin with a camera flash
and preventing him from getting to Nemo in time.
The boat speeds away
and Marlin’s worst nightmare has come true.

Marlin then begins a long and difficult journey
to find Nemo and bring him home,
accompanied and helped along the way
by a blue fish – a regal tang – named Dory,
very sweet by nature
but troubled by persistent short-term memory loss.
Nemo ends up in a small fish tank in a dentist’s office,
where the other inhabitants of the tank
help him try to escape
before he becomes the next casualty
of the dentist’s niece
and her enjoyment of shaking bags of goldfish.
In particular, a Moorish Idol fish named Gill,
the only other tank member
to come from the ocean
rather than a pet store,
takes Nemo under his fin.

Along the way, Marlin and Dory encounter many surprising creatures:
There is a group of 3 sharks
who are trying to rise above their nature,
and reform their fish-eating ways -
their motto is "Fish are friends, not food."
They barely avoid becoming lunch for an anglerfish,
which has a kind of built-in glowing lure
attached to its body.
They meet a school of silvery fish that do visual impressions
in their group formations.
They have a narrow escape
from beautiful but deadly box jellyfish.
A school of sea turtles helps them navigate the East Australian Current,
and offers Marlin a different perspective on parenting
than he has been used to —
a little less neurotic worrywart,
a little more laid-back surfer dude.
A whale swallows them up
to bring them in close to Sydney Harbor.
And a pelican named Nigel takes them the final distance
to the dentist’s office where Nemo is waiting.

Along the way, both father and son
learn to better understand each other,
and to overcome their own fears
to embrace life more fully.
Dory and Crush the sea turtle
teach Marlin that he cannot keep Nemo
from experiencing life.
That if he never lets anything happen to his son,
nothing will ever happen to him.
And although sometimes there’s no way of knowing
whether or not something bad might happen,
the only way to get through life
is to “Let go,” and “Just keep swimming!”
And Gill helps Nemo gain confidence in himself,
as his own damaged fin has never stopped him
from going after his goals.

In some ways, Finding Nemo blends together
the three “Lost” parables of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke:
like the shepherd seeking the sheep,
Marlin goes in search of his lost son,
leaving behind the safety of the world he knows,
putting at risk what is left to him.
As in the story of the Prodigal Son,
Nemo is separated from his family
by a decision made out of youthful defiance
that comes to regret
and seeks to return home.
And if we want to stretch a little,
Dory is kind of like the woman with the coins…
only it’s more like her marbles that she’s lost…
but there is definitely great rejoicing when she finds them!

It’s not an exact parallel, of course;
the film is a full-fledged story, not a parable.
I think the main difference is
that Marlin is not a stand-in for God
as the shepherd and the father are
in the parables that Jesus told.
Marlin is himself a “person” in need of saving.
He needs to be saved not from the dangers of the world,
but from his fear of danger,
so that he can lay claim to the abundant life
available to him.
Marlin is so obsessed with past tragedy
and fear of the future
that he is robbed of the one thing he needs,
which is to be in the moment with his son.
Dory, who knows nothing beyond the present moment,
is the one who helps him get back that gift.

Nemo needs to find faith in his own abilities
and an understanding of his father’s concerns.
He learns to respect his father’s worries and limits
because he himself comes face to face with real danger.

And Dory, whom the film’s director and writer describe
as an “angel” by nature,
always seeking to comfort and help others,
becomes an important part of the family,
finding that Marlin’s care for her and trust in her
helps her to remember things better,
helps her not to get lost or forget,
and allows her to feel that she is home.

If you are a parent,
and have had the experience of caring for a young child
I imagine Marlin’s situation hits home:
the fear of losing your child
is a real and powerful threat.
You want to protect them, keep them safe
as long and as fully as possible.
But the time comes
when you have to let the little one
venture out into the world on their own,
give them a chance, as Crush the surfer sea turtle says,
to see what they’ll do “flying solo.”

Some of us might identify more with Nemo:
longing for adventure,
unsure of our own capabilities
or our place in the world,
but certain that there are wonderful and exciting places to see
and people to meet out there.

Others, like Dory,
are longing for a place to belong,
a relationship that grounds us
and helps us make sense of our story.
The world can be a big and scary place.
The church has often focused on this view,
emphasizing the “dangers, toils and snares” of life:

The world is seen as a place of temptation,
posing all kinds of risks to the life of faith.
This is the Marlin school of theology –
monsters lurk around every corner,
so venture out only when necessary,
and then do so with extreme vigilance.
The Nemo school of theology, on the other hand,
holds that the world is the gift of God,
to be explored, dealt with, delighted in,
and within which we learn who we are
and who God is in the scheme of things.
Both schools of theology live side by side in the church
and are often a source of tension.*

Ultimately, the film, along with our scriptures for today,
come out on the side of affirming life
with all its risks and dangers
as something beautiful and holy,
a gift from God.
We are called to boldness in pursuing an abundant life
not because our fears are groundless
and not to become reckless with our lives
but so that we don’t forfeit our lives
by refusing to live them;
because there’s no other way
to experience the fullness of life that God offers.

Finding Nemo is a Disney movie,
so of course it has a happy ending.
We long for that happy ending in our own lives,
the moment when everything comes together and makes sense,
when we know we don't have to worry any more.
Our faith teaches us we can have that happy ending,
but not necessarily in this life.

In this life, God doesn’t promise
to always set things right.
But God promises to work for good in all circumstances.
God does not promise that we will not know suffering,
whether in the form of pain, of fear, of separation, or of grief;
But God does promise that suffering is not the final word,
that it is but one stage of the journey toward redemption.
And God promises to journey with us,
whether we pass through water or fire,
God has redeemed us and claimed us as God’s own.
God is the brave shepherd
and the careful woman
and the loving father
who seeks us out for relationship,
giving us the freedom to decide how we will live,
rejoicing with us when we choose life abundant in God’s care.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.


*from Movies that Matter, by Richard Leonard, p. 127.

The Gospel According to Pleasantville

Once upon a time
there was a boy and a girl
who found themselves in a strange new world.
They were brother and sister, twins,
children of the 80s, teens in the 90s,
faced with bad news at every turn:
divorced parents
continual decline in available jobs after graduation,
ozone depletion and the HIV epidemic.
Jennifer found her sense of identity
in being one of the “bad girls,”
smoking and sleeping around,
while David took refuge in watching endless reruns
of a black-and-white 1950s sitcom
called Pleasantville.

Pleasantville depicted a world so much more… pleasant
than reality:
It was neater, cleaner, more polite and more predictable,
where mother starts each day
by preparing a big hot breakfast for her children and husband:
mountains of pancakes and waffles,
eggs and bacon and ham,
and each night father comes back from work
and announces, “Honey, I’m home!”

Through a strange turn of events,
David and Jennifer find themselves suddenly transported
inside the world of Pleasantville: they become Bud and Mary Sue,
straight-laced 50’s teenagers,
as monochromatic as everything around them.

David, with his encyclopedic knowledge of the show,
finds it easy to interact with others
in the role of Bud, the boy next door,
and does all he can to encourage Jennifer –
now Mary Sue –
to stick to the original script.

But where Bud sees innocence to be preserved,
pleasantness to be protected,
Mary Sue sees potential for people to escape their geekiness
and become “attractive” and “cool.”
And in spite of Bud’s warnings and pleas
to just “go with the program,”
Mary Sue goes out with Skip,
the captain of the basketball team,
and on their first date, she takes him to Lover’s Lane
where they do a lot more than just hold hands!
On his way home from this novel experience,
Skip sees the strangest thing:
a single red rose,
brilliantly scarlet
in the midst of the grey rosebush.

It doesn’t take long before Skip tells all the boys about his experience
and Mary Sue shares her knowledge and attitude with the girls,
and little by little, starting with bubblegum and taillights,
spots of color start to appear in Pleasantville.
The color is seen as an aberration, a freak occurrence,
and one young woman whose tongue has turned pink
is told kindly by her doctor,
“It’s probably nothing to worry about.
Just cut back on greasy foods and chocolate.”

With the excitement of the color
come some unexpected consequences.
The boys’ basketball team,
the undefeated Pleasantville Lions,
formerly could not fail to shoot the ball
directly into the basket every time.
Now they all miss.

Bill Johnson, the “soda jerk,” –
the guy who works at the soda shop –
discovers that he does not have to do every task
in exactly the same order every time
and starts thinking about how meaningless it is
to make hamburgers all the time
and how much he enjoys painting a mural
on the windows at Christmas.
Mary Sue had discovered early on
that the reason the firemen in Pleasantville
are always rescuing cats
is that nothing there will burn.
Yet one night,
after Mary Sue explains to her Pleasantville mother
all about Lover’s Lane and sex,
the tree outside their home
bursts into Technicolor flame.
Bud is the one who gets the firemen to come –
finally figuring out
that although they don’t respond to “Fire!”,
they get going in a hurry when he yells “Cat!”
and Bud is the one who has to show them
how to use the hoses to put out the fire.
The town experiences rain –
real rain –
for the first time.

The more time David and Jennifer remain in Pleasantville
as Bud and Mary Sue,
little by little revealing more of what they know
of the possibilities of life beyond Pleasantville’s script,
the more choices people have,
the more color appears,
in people and in the world around them,
and the more the men of the town are greatly concerned
by the changes occurring around them.

Pleasantville is, in part, an intentional parable
for Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden.
It’s not an exact parallel,
and there are other layers of meaning
that enrich and deepen the symbolism of the film.
But David/Bud is, perhaps like Adam,
satisfied with the status quo:
content to keep the pristine world within its narrow limits,
trying not to upset the apple cart,
accepting of the order of things
as the way they’re supposed to be.
Jennifer in the place of Mary Sue
is the stereotypical Eve:
although the story in Genesis does not identify sex
as part of the “original sin,”
that is what most people think of
when they think of sin, Eve, and Eden.
And sex is what Jennifer brings to Pleasantville,
to the delight of the boys and girls at school,
and the consternation of their parents.
The imagery of the forbidden fruit –
in our culture assumed to be an apple –
shows up at the lake at the end of Lover’s Lane,
where Margaret picks a bright red apple
and gives it to David.
The image comes up again
in the mural that David/Bud and Mr Johnson paint
on the wall of the police station later on.

There’s no real “snake” in this story,
no external trickster
convincing the unsuspecting innocents to choose disobedience.
Just David and Jennifer,
who drop into this world of monochrome pleasantness,
the only ones who know there is any alternative,
the only ones with the ability to choose something different.
And the choices they make
set in motion a chain of events
and opportunities for others to make choices
that turns the whole world of Pleasantville upside down.

The movie has a largely positive view
regarding the freedom to make choices.
The story acknowledges that the openness
the teenagers bring to Pleasantville
includes the possibility for anger, violence, and fear
as well as love, learning, and passion.
And there are many who are threatened by the changes.
They react first by violence:
breaking the windows of the soda shop
where Bill Johnson has painted a mural of a naked woman;
vandalizing the colored booths and gumball machines;
and burning the books that are no longer blank,
but filled with stories of love and learning and freedom.
And when things settle down,
the powers that be respond by trying to control the town,
laying down a code of conduct
that includes closing the library,
limiting the music that may be played,
prohibitions on the sale of umbrellas
or other preparation for inclement weather,
mattresses of greater than 38” wide,
and paint in colors other than black, white, or grey;
and a “non-changist” school curriculum
that emphasizes continuity over alteration.

Yet ultimately the changes cannot be stopped or controlled
and Bud makes an impassioned case for the positive value
of recognizing the capacity for all kinds of feelings and choices
that exists in each person.
It turns out that sex isn’t the only, or even the primary, reason
that most of the people change to color.
For Jennifer, who in her own words, has “had more sex than anyone,”
the change comes when she sends her boyfriend away,
turning aside from her former sense of identity through sex,
and stays in her room, wearing her glasses, reading.
For David, the defining moment is when he stands up for his mother
who is being harassed by a group of teenage boys,
and it is his punch that both brings violence to Pleasantville
and brings out his own willingness to engage with the world
and to take risks for others.

The choice to turn aside from the obvious path
and the very ability to make a choice freely
comes with a variety of complex and interconnected consequences.
But what is the alternative?

There are many other creation stories in the world,
some ancient, some recent.
Some scholars have explored ancient texts
and developed new interpretations of these old, old stories.
One version of the story of Adam and Eve in the garden
describes the tree from which they eat as the Tree of Life,
and their transgression is in eating the fruit before it is ripe.
As a consequence,
they are confused at the sense of separation they feel
from the animals, plants, and the rest of creation.
But God assures them that although the fruit was not ripe,
the seeds of learning and caring will grow inside them
as they travel the path of wonder, the path of emptiness,
the path of making, and the path of coming home.

At its heart, the story of Eve and Adam
is an attempt to answer the questions of
why we suffer, why we die,
why life is not as good as we think it could or should be,
why we do not feel as close to God as we long to be,
why we humans interact with the world, with God, and with each other
in a way that seems so different from all the other animals.

The story tries to answer these questions
by saying that Once Upon a Time,
things were the way we imagine they could and should be.
Once Upon a Time,
life was perfect. Flawless. Pleasant.
And people did what they weren’t supposed to do
and that’s why life isn’t so great now.

There’s a lot of shame and guilt put on the choice of freedom
over blind obedience
but what kind of life would we have,
what kind of world would we have
if we never knew we had another option?
The story of Adam and Eve in the garden,
like the story of Jennifer and David in Pleasantville,
is a story of moving from a very limited awareness
of the options available in one’s life
to a recognition of the broad and abundant scope
of what life in all its fullness
might mean.
We might not agree with the choices people make,
but how could we choose good
if we were not free to make a different choice?
Redemption in Pleasantville
isn't primarily about being forgiven for one’s sins,
but instead is about the opening up of one’s life
to the possibility of wholeness:
pleasant is all well and good,
in fact, it is very pleasant… up to a point.
But there is so much more than pleasant
in the life abundant that God offers us in Christ.
There is room for silly, and sexy, and curious.
There is room for anger, and passion, and grief.
There is room for God in every part of our lives.
Nothing is too small, too big, too shameful, or too private
to bring before God.
We get to choose how we will live:
no script, no set plot or secret plan for our lives
that we will be punished for not figuring out
and following to the letter.
It can feel like a curse at times,
the freedom
the not knowing how things will turn out.
We have the option of turning toward God
or turning away.
Sometimes we don’t know which way a path will lead
until we have followed it a little while.
But the good news is that God is always available to us,
always walking with us along the road out of Eden,
always willing to help open our eyes
when we are ready
to see the Technicolor world that surrounds us
and the colors that sprout and bloom like seeds
within our hearts.
Amen.


[Preached at The Open House at Montclair UMC, October 12, 2008]

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