November 2007 Archives

The Keys to the Kingdom
Plainfield UCC Congregational Church
November 25, 2007
Matthew 16:13-19
13 Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples,
'Who do people say that the Son of Man is?' 14And they said, 'Some say John the
Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.' 15He
said to them, 'But who do you say that I am?' 16Simon Peter answered, 'You are the
Messiah, the Son of the living God.' 17And Jesus answered him, 'Blessed are you,
Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father
in heaven. 18And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church,
and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. 19I will give you the keys of the
kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and
whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.'
The heartbeat of historic Congregationalism pulsated in the congregational meeting
on October 29th. In the Congregational tradition the gathered congregation of
Christian believers constitutes church hierarchy, pope, council, mission, and the local
church's only legitimate authority. Each member bears witness to his or her Christ
in the gathered covenant of believers. The Mayflower Compact with its consent of the
governed and Congregationalism spawned democracy on a wilderness continent--in
churches, in education, in the New England town meeting, and spurred a revolution
to prevent hierarchy in religion and in government, and provided experience and
incentive for the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution. It is as easy
to overstate as it is to underestimate the influence of our Congregational heritage
upon America.*
This morning's sermon explores, not "Who do you say Jesus is?" It explores, "Who
do you say Peter is?" Furthermore, in this sermon, on the basis of a partial New
Testament picture of Peter, a vision of New Christianity celebrates a new foundation
for Congregationalism. This sermon (treatise) paints a historical sketch of
Congregationalism through a brazenly brief account of the two major Reformation
leaders and four prominent Congregational luminaries: John Robinson, William
Bradford, Jonathan Edwards, and Henry Ward Beecher. The sermon seeks to
present Congregational history in the light of the New Creation of New Christianity
and to awaken a sense of historical consciousness regarding Congregationalism's epic
past.
Gary Wills, a preeminent liberal contemporary Catholic, in "Why I Am a Catholic",
pieces together a picture of St. Peter, a common fisherman, as the democratic
foundation of the church. In defense of his views, he insists, the church "was for
centuries more democratic, in some ways, than modern America." As
Congregationalism and the United Church of Christ diminish in strength1a as a
denomination it is heartening to find seriously avowed Congregational views
awakening in a deeply learned and thoughtful contemporary Roman Catholic.
Gary Wills bases a democratic church upon the unlearned, un-theological working
class fisherman Peter, as the church's foundation, built upon sand, and he supports it
by a study of the first four hundred years of church history. Congregationalists
believed the gathered congregation was the only church of the New Testament,
holding that every local church of every denomination comprises a true church.
Thus, Congregationalism was an eager founder of the awkwardly confusingly named
United Church of Christ1 in the hope, as the UCC logo declares "that they may all be
one"2 (John 17:21). The name United Church of Christ impressed the 1957 UCC
founders as a more serviceable ecumenical name than the name Congregational
Christian Evangelical and Reformed Church would fashion.
Gary Wills sees Peter as "the comic boaster who bungles everything." This half-blind
Mr. Magoo is the first person to confess Jesus is the Christ and immediately
thereafter is the first and only person Christ calls Satan. Eager to walk out on the
water beside Christ, Peter has to be rescued from drowning by Christ. Enthusiastic
to die for Christ, he denies him three times. Upon Jesus' insistence at washing his
feet, Peter says, "Okay, but then not only my feet, but my head and hands." (John
13:8) "He all but orders a shave and a manicure." (Wills)
After his resurrection transformation Peter stumbles in puzzlement over his dream
that all things are clean. Paul confronts him as a hypocrite (Gal. 2:13), a "so-called
pillar", and a "super Apostle". Contrary to post-resurrection commissioning Peter
alone travels with his wife. In 1932 the enigmatic Roman Catholic G.K. Chesterton,
wrote, "the historic Christian church was founded on a weak man, and therefore is
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indestructible." Congregationalism can continue its establishment upon this new
Peter Principle: the people are the gravel foundation base which supports a higher
concrete base that everywhere else sings forth from the New Testament: "The
Church's One Foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord". This higher concrete base, not a
denominational structure, not the United Church of Christ, comprises the unity of
the church invisible throughout history, in our times, and in all future times. Every
St. Peter needs a St. Paul, "where two or three gather in Christ's name" (Mt. 18:20),
the church exists.
In 1644 in a book widely read in Cromwell's England, "The Keyes of the Kingdom of
Heaven", John Cotton, a Congregational Patriarch in Boston wrote, in words quaint
to our ears, "But it hath proved a busie Question, How Peter is to be considered in
receiving this power of the keys..."3 The power of the keys is "a busy question...
variously answered through church history." To the Jews the keys to the kingdom
were and are the law and the commandments. The early church, as a New Israel and
a New Jerusalem, the first New Christianity, melted those keys down and recast them
as the seven sacraments of the church. Protestant Christianity, a second New
Christianity, melted those seven keys down and reforged the old keys to the kingdom
into and as select words and teachings of scripture.
Just as we have looked at a composite of word pictures of Peter this morning and see
him in new light, so we should look at the word pictures of Christ for a New
Revelation in scripture of Christ, for there Christ shines to transform the meaning of
Christianity. The veil is lifted. Indeed, Christ stands enthroned in glory in the
scriptures saying, if any say unto you, Lo, here is the Christ, or, Lo, there is the
Christ; believe it not. (Mt. 23:24) In effect, Christ stands in the scriptures saying,
"For heaven's sake, look and see. Let the scales drop from your eyes. I come bathed
in creative glory for all humankind to see." In an utterly surprising Second Coming,
Christ returns. This second-coming event simultaneously shatters and glorifies the
Word of Scripture. Christ's new meaning, Creative Glory, shines upon us as the
genius and wisdom of God, wiping away all the tangled branches of the old
Protestant Christianity, presenting us with a vibrant vision of New Christianity. This
ingenious revelatory event, never conceived or imagined by any human mind in two
millennia, declares itself the unfathomable self-authenticating work of God himself.
Christ comes striding out of the centuries-old New Testament, not down the
sanctuary of a temple, not down the center aisle of a medieval cathedral, not among
the pews of the religiously well-trained. Instead, in the scriptures we see Christ come
striding down the middle of the streets of Jerusalem hip deep in the tensions and
anxieties of his time, summoning a fisherman to be the foundation of the church. The
Christ of all the ages comes, not in grace, but in scripturally prophesied glory,
creative glory. The Christ of the scriptures shines radiant with freedom, open to all,
the lowly and the powerful, bearing freedom-creating, life-restoring, liberating
tolerance toward all, except maybe Peter. Dare we say, except maybe the churches?
"Behold," the Christ portrayed in the scriptures declares, "I stand at the door and
knock. To any...who open the door, I will come in to them and sup with them, and
they will sup with me." (Rev. 3:20) The people out in the streets yearning for
tolerance, openness and freedom, faintly dreaming of lives of creative glory will
respond to him readily as always. But what of the foundations of sand, the religious
gravelly people of the churches, who are always entrapped in their own religious
convictions? Shortly after saying, "I stand at the door and knock," the angel in the
Book of Revelation concludes, "He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says
to the churches." (Rev. 3:22)
Our roots sprouted to life 500 years ago in the 1507 ordination of a German Roman
Catholic priest whose volcanic spiritual eruptions created a New Christianity.
In a devout Roman Catholic family living sixty miles north of Paris, two years after
Martin Luther's ordination, was born the man who at the age of twenty-six by a
work that he claimed flowed into his mind as out of heaven, channeled the New
Christianity of the volcanic eruptions of Luther into a European dominating
protestant theological humanism that spread its roots into the depths of the earth. He
was, if not the Augustine, surely the Aquinas of Protestantism, the intellectual giant
who systematized Protestant thought. He was a man without formal theological
training whose learned and powerfully written major book "altered the course of
Western history as much as any other." His theological formulation of a New
Christianity, Protestant Christianity, is the dominant taproot from which the vast
Protestant Reform heritage stems. He was the Peter who dazzled the world with the
Reformed Church and bungled Christianity with the idea that God's sovereignty
meant God elected some for damnation and some for salvation. The flaws in our
church gravel base show in the cracks and fissures of a divided Protestantism. All the
Protestant denominations have tried to complete some neglected piece of the
Reformation. In all we see "The Reformation continues" (Schleiermacher), or,
struggles to continue.
Over four hundred years ago, in 1580, Robert Browne, head of a separatist
congregation sprouted off from that taproot in what a preeminent nineteenth century
church historian describes as "the development of a great religious movement."*
This first Congregationalist waffled under threats of persecution and rejection by
returning to the security of his position in the Church of England. Ahh, this overenthusiastic
and infamously denying Peter sprouted the new taproot of
Congregationalism.
How impossible it is for us to understand England four hundred years ago. Henry
VIII in order to divorce made the ubiquitous Roman Catholic Church of England his
church. Every citizen was taxed as a member and fined if they failed to attend mass.
The church was neither Protestant nor Catholic and grew into a dunghill of
favoritism, cronyism, nepotism, and ignorance. Criticism of the church was illegal.
Many priests knew neither the Ten Commandments nor the Lord's Prayer, lived in
luxury, showed up only to lead the rituals of worship, were required to preach only
once a quarter. Some parishes never heard a sermon in seven years. Christianity
reigned everywhere and everywhere reigned as a failure. Through the great
Elizabethan era Puritans gathered at Cambridge but found it impossible to purify
their church. In 1607 the new King, James I, ordered 41 scholars to translate a
reliable and authoritative Bible without pay. King James brutally persecuted,
harassed, hung, and jailed for life, all religious dissenters and separatists. In fifty
years Oliver Cromwell would succeed in overthrowing this dung heap of oppression
and decay. But first the later-named Pilgrims fled, followed by the Puritans. (The
head of the Church of England, the Archbishop of Canterbury, continues to be
appointed by the government of Britain by an elaborate procedure. Anthony
Trollope's six nineteenth century novels entitled Chronicles of Barsetshire provide a
powerful glimpse into the workings and continuing decay of the Church of England.)
In 1607 the withering root of Brownism4a or Congregationalism out upon a remote
crevice in this dunghill sprouted vigorously to life in a congregation that included
puritan scholar John Robinson and an unlearned peasant farm boy, William
Bradford. The whole congregation, imprisoned one year, escaped the next spring to
Leyden, Holland. Leyden, Holland, where a young Rembrandt trod the streets
looking for a paintbrush, reigned as the intellectual capitol of Europe. The Pilgrims
were down-to-earth learned people, strong in mind and strong of heart. Far, far too
many people hold a one-dimensional view of the Pilgrims, a kindergarten black and
white paper cutout conception of them. In Leyden, John Robinson headed "the
mother church of Congregationalism."* Becoming a distinguished member of the
university faculty he achieved renown as the Apostle of Leyden, a foremost defender
of Calvinism. We cannot conceive in what high, high reverence the devout Reformed
atmosphere of Leyden would have held the title of Apostle. By the time these
Pilgrims of the Way of the Word left Leyden, William Bradford had mastered
Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, could converse in Dutch and French, and knew the
Bible's teaching words inside out. In 1620 as the salty waters of the Atlantic lapped
against the sides of the Speedwell, the Mayflower's sister ship, John Robinson
uttered words now carved in stone in the shadow of Rockefeller Chapel at the
University of Chicago. His words, on a stone courtyard entryway to CTS, a United
Church Seminary, counseled humility because "The Lord hath yet more truth and
light to break forth out of his holy Word." These words have come to shine as a
beacon throughout Protestant Christianity. At the worship planning meeting Pastor
Nancy said to me, "Oh, Bob, be sure to mention John Robinson's words." Standing
shipside, John Robinson prophetically counseled the Pilgrims to unite with the
Puritans should they flee to America. John Robinson and the rest of the Leyden
congregation planned to follow the Pilgrims, but upon Robinson's death five years
later the congregation was absorbed into the Reformed Church in Holland. Half the
gravel foundation base crumbled.
Try to imagine the congregational meeting that sought to carry the Reformation to
its logical completion and that, in fact, launched the heroic age of Congregationalism.
Visualize the discussion regarding emigration to America. Treachery plagued ocean
voyaging. The Mayflower's sister ship, the Speedwell's, captain or crew sabotaged
their vessel to escape the perils of the yearlong roundtrip. Eighteen prior colonies in
America had failed. Eighty percent of Jamestown residents had died within three
years. If eighteen Apollo missions never got off the ground, one perishing without a
trace in attempted liftoff, would you have volunteered to be the next astronaut? They
contemplated terrifying reports of native savages. They ask can we carve existence
out of the wilderness with no one, no houses, no doctors, no food supply there to
support us. Let us continue our reformation in comfort and security in Holland.
Besides, my wife is Dutch. We have suffered and sacrificed our share for the coming
of the Kingdom. And cost, the insurmountable cost, congregational "...debt is the
devil's salary"5. They barely fathomed the horrors of losses and sufferings to be
endured.
In these gathered few the creative glory of the fires of religious desire burned as a
power we cannot conceive, have not experienced, do not see anywhere, not in the
mega-church fluff, nowhere in the dying vines of traditional liberal Protestantism,
definitely not in the abandoned Protestant keys of the kingdom, left now to jangle in
blunted noises, rust encrusted in Protestant fundamentalism. In 1668
Congregationalists believed "God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice
grain over into this wilderness."* (William Stoughton) These choice grains agreed to
go as a missionary experiment and to preserve their church and English identity in
spite of the argument that it meant beginning each morning with "water instead of
their accustomed beer."* Last Sunday Pastor Nancy gave us five kernels of corn to
mark five thanksgivings in our life. What if this Sunday we received seven of those
packets and were told one of those packets and water were our diet each day next
week? Could any of us endure such a diet one day? Two days? Less than half the
Pilgrims survived the first winter on that diet.
No venture more than that of the Mayflower Pilgrims ever gave grander proof to
Margaret Mead's famous words, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful,
committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
William Bradford's wife drowned disembarking the Mayflower. The Plymouth Bay
area was suffering from a prolonged drought. William Bradford grew as a devout
courageous Christian layman to carry Plymouth colony on his shoulders. William
Bradford carried the colony through a grim winter's hardship: Pale, gaunt, many
wearing their only remaining clothing in rags, the colonists came to look like
Auschwitz survivors. "Before the first springtime more of their number
proportionately had fallen than have fallen from the ranks of an army in great
modern battle..."* declared a historian in 1900. Tell me of the patriots who fell at
Bunker Hill or address the men slain at Gettysburg with immortal words, salute
those who scaled the stone precipices of Omaha Beach, raise the flag on Iwo Jima,
but first celebrate the fires of religious desire in those who hit the beaches of
Plymouth Bay, Massachusetts. These Pilgrims launched a new church and a new
nation.
Their governor and civil leader, William Bradford, never accepted any pay, never
received any land he was entitled to as governor, in spite of thirty-one annual
unanimous votes for him as governor he insisted on rotation of the office. He steered
a colony of fifty-one survivors of the first winter to a colony of over 4,000 at his death
in 1657. He secured peace between the colonists and the Indians. He re-negotiated the
settlement's contract sponsors. Bradford resolved disputes, rescued the non-religious
commercially rapacious minority from starving to death, and did, what Mark Twain
declares many aspire to do but none ever do, against all odds he managed to keep a
personal journal through all his years of Pilgrim experience as the congregation
sought to complete the Reformation. His courage and integrity out-Washingtons
Washington's. Perchance, Bradford's exemplary qualities inspired Washington to
follow suit. The fire of William Bradford's religious desires yielded a cornucopia of
nourishing fruits in every life that brushed against him.
Congregationalism, of course, is but one of the many birds that came to roost in the
branches of the mighty oak of Calvinism. Here there is not even space to describe the
magnificent theological contributions to our culture in the twentieth century of the
brothers Niebuhr and Paul Tillich of the Evangelical and Reformed Church.
Congregationalism's last four centuries mirror the events of Christianity's first four
centuries. Vast constellations of Puritan and Pilgrim stars burst forth to shine out in
the firmaments of Congregationalism. "The heroic age of Congregationalism"*
lasted through large distinguished functional families generation after generation.
These "seekers of a fuller reformation"* plunged into a theological wilderness. They
created their own version of Calvinism, reformed it, refined it, creatively
reinterpreted it. Learned people, their ministers spent ten, twelve, fourteen hours
each day in their studies. Schools, schools, schools, education, education, education
was their chant as they founded Harvard, Yale, Oberlin, Grinnell, Beloit--41 of the
nation's greatest liberal arts colleges and made each free and independent like the
local congregation. Weary from field labor, a thousand tasks needing attention at
home nagging at them, these Congregationalists listened to two and three hour
sermons twice each Sunday in a way we cannot relate to--because the fire of desire
burnt fervently in their hearts. In the hands of the brilliant Jonathan Edwards,
world famous in his day as scientist, philosopher, and theologian,4
Congregationalism transformed religion into a matter of the head and the heart, or,
in Edwards' own words, "a matter of understanding and affection". He began
evangelical revivalism with the first of three controversial Great Awakenings
spearheaded by Congregationalists and critiqued frontier religious fervor and
sudden conversions more fully than anyone before or since. Rightly opposed but
wrongly terminated by his congregation for opposing keeping communion open to all
church members, not just to those who could confess conversion experiences, he
turned his back on all more lucrative offers, going off with his wife and eleven
surviving children to serve in a chartered mission to the Indians. He stood up
successfully against the commercial interests seeking to grab the Indians' lands. He
ended his life as third President of the College of New Jersey, Princeton University.
Dying prematurely from a diphtheria infection, Jonathan Edwards, nevertheless,
created the language of religious experience which William James followed with
"The Varieties of Religious Experience" and created the language by which you and
I continue to understand religion today. Sadly, his heritage produced those segments
of Protestant Christianity that divide the saved from the damned.** His emphasis on
the unity of head and heart in religion degenerated into an emphasis solely upon the
heart. "My sole religion," arose the naïve declaration, "is a religion of the heart." The
Great Commandments call to love God with all one's mind crumbled lost in the
gravel of twentieth century Christianity. Mindless sects and movements sprang to
life. Christianity dissolved into emotional mush without any grit. Jonathan Edwards
analyzed conversion experiences as the blossom of Christianity whose validity must
be determined by the fruit they bear. But who among us ever even has heard of
Jonathan Edwards?
Henry Ward Beecher, for whom Beecher, Illinois, is named; son of famed Calvinist
Puritan Lyman Beecher; transformed his father's and the nation's religion from a
stern religion of duty and obedience to a religion of love. "Bashful and mumbling as a
child," he rose to become a spellbinding preacher who spoke extemporaneously.
Mark Twain described him as "sawing his arms in the air, howling sarcasms this
way and that, discharging rockets of poetry and exploding mines of eloquence."
Harriet Beecher Stowe, his sister and author of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was credited
by Abraham Lincoln with causing the Civil War. Henry was accorded the honor of
giving the end of the Civil War's conciliatory commemorative address on April 12th,
1865, at Fort Sumter where the war famously had begun. His speech was lost in
obscurity. April 12th, 1865 was the day President Lincoln died.
Hundreds of quotations from Beecher are used today with most users having no idea
who he was. Oliver Wendell Homes, Sr., father of Justice Holmes, celebrated his
friend in a famous lyric:
The Reverend Henry Ward Beecher
called a hen a most elegant creature.
The hen, pleased with that,
laid an egg in his hat,
and thus did the hen reward Beecher.
In 2006 Beecher was celebrated in an acclaimed biography entitled, "The Most
Famous Man in America". 6 And who among us knows anything of Beecher?7
Here's a sample of his transformative message, taken from a selection of 262 Beecher
quotes found on one Internet website:8
"Love is the river of life in this world. Think not that ye know it who stand
at the little tinkling rill, the first small fountain. Not until you have gone
through the rocky gorges and not lost the stream; not until you have gone
through the meadow, and the stream has widened and deepened until
fleets could ride on its bosom; not until beyond the meadow you have
come to the unfathomable ocean, and poured your treasures into its depths
--not until then can you know what love is."
Thus, we see "the exploding mine of eloquence" Mark Twain spoke of.
The mighty river of America's Congregational heritage flows on as a powerful
underground river in the social, political, and religious life of America. This mainline
denomination's vibrant waters commingle in a puzzling paradox: the most
independent church of all free churches consistently stood at the forefront of the
quest for Christian unity. Hence, the United Church of Christ. Congregationalism
helped deliver free churches everywhere...and something of its legacy now lives
anywhere that a group of Christians decide to establish a church, a new
denomination of independent churches, a community church, a Unitarian Church, or
a Universalist Church, a scandal-ridden mega-church, a conservative right wing
fundamentalist congregation. Congregationalism in the United Church, shunned and
condemned by conservative churches, nevertheless always has stood ready to
recognize any other local church as a valid Christian church and offered open
communion to members of any other local church. Yes, Congregationalism has
powerfully helped unleash chaos upon Christendom. Congregationalism has fed the
yearnings and fires of a preparatory freedom--a freedom that now chokes, wrapped
in fogs of religious stultification. Has Congregationalism lost its genius and its destiny
in the process? Or has it fulfilled its destiny by lavishing itself upon society? Or, is it
being readied to spearhead a new religious era? Oh, Providence, Providence, how
magnificent are the hidden ways of thy Creative Glory!
The Congregational Meeting on October 29th, 2007, dealing with state compensation
for highway expansion onto church frontage--from the professional staff's lucid
presentations and the church committee's preparedness to the individual members
thoughtful perspectives harvested a meeting triumphant in openness, warmth, and,
at the end, unanimity, with charitableness in all directions, even toward the state of
Illinois, in spite of its added encroachment upon the church's once tranquil country
setting. To the honor of the Creative Glory revealed in Christ, Jeff Harmon and
Clare Branson and other's concerns; Bill Caton, Mark Frost, Darlene Frink, and
other's experienced counsel, some forty gathered people shined with unanimity on a
complex and thorny issue. A four centuries old Congregational tradition declares:
the meeting presented a gift of Christ's Presence in our midst. Down in its gravel
base the successful congregational meeting displays again and again that the whole is
greater than the sum of its parts.
Let me close on a highly personal note. In recent years in this church Jenifer Bray
shared with us her spiritual experience in re-finding her songbird voice. Darryl
Herman has shown the tears of his spiritual fire every time he has spoken about the
Food Resources Program and endured the barbs of those who felt the program
competed with the budget. Pat Herman shines by his side. Now Darryl and Pat know
the subtle stings of opposition every forward-moving minister experiences. In Mark
Frost, Tony Shannon, Mark Hipp, Susan Winters, Dwight Diercks, Shawn Hillman
and in other lay preachers in this sanctuary the fires of religious desire flicker forth
in our presence. We see the fires of religious desire yearning to be set aflame in Cindi
Knox and Marc Findlay's enrollments in seminary. In Dorothy Peel, John and Sally
Noble, Dani Shannon, Clare and Bill Branson, Ethel Snook, Jean Swanson, Daryl
Stalnaker, Mel Kuper, Allen Winter, and others I have glimpsed gleams of religious
desire. In Bobby Kooyenga, Eric Sipe, and other youth, I have seen flares of religious
desire glowing. Jeff and Wendy Harmon testified in many ways, as in their recent
letter of resignation, to the strong fires of their religious desire. Jeff Harmon's
ecstatic remarks on Youth Sunday on broken pieces lifted out of the tenth chapter of
Acts, creating a picture of Peter inspiring Cornelius, showed a positive dimension of
Peter's transformed and transformative ministry--counterbalancing this sermon's
picture of Peter. Eileen Diercks and the Stephen Ministers and the Reiki healers
glimmer with their own religious desires. Our gathering of music talent, teaching
talents, and leadership gifts blazes as a small bonfire. In Pastor Nancy I behold a
yearning fire of religious desire. What an incredible wrestling crackling mixture of
flames, flickers, and flashes of fire stir in this congregation. The whole that is greater
than the sum of its parts is called community.
In my heart and mind I ponder, Is this a Providential gathering, does this
congregation stand at a juncture of readiness open to a Resurrection-transformative
experience of heart and mind? The age of inspiration is not dead. Out of the
scriptures Christ stands ready to stride forth into our lives in a fullness greater than
faith, the fullness of freedom, in creative glory. But will Christ be seen by those in the
church or must he start anew outside the church? Can the gravel pits of the churches
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look afresh into their scriptures and see their Christ afresh or will they remain
blinded in the old Christian ways? OR, has Providence outwitted the churches of
Christendom by placing the return of Christ in a place where they cannot not see
Him? Christ comes where "all flesh together can see the salvation of God," where
"more truth and light will burst forth from God's holy Word" than a learned Apostle
of Leyden ever imagined.
This morning I celebrate Congregationalism for four hundred years ago joining in
and never abandoning the long up-and-down journey of completing the Reformation
and its creation of a New Christianity, Protestant Christianity. And I celebrate
Congregationalism for preparing the way for a present and future reception of a
successive New Christianity. Half a millennium after Martin Luther launched the
Protestant Reformation, in many voices worldwide the Christian churches groan for
a New Reformation and a New Christianity. All is, of course, in God's hands and I
am convinced that the world so loved by God (John 3:16) will come to see that God's
hand is not so shortened (Is. 59:1) that it cannot create a New Christianity.
Amen. Robert E. Cetina
2121 Ingalls Avenue
Joliet, IL 60435-3276
©Robert E. Cetina, 11-25-07

Joyful Thanksgiving
Psalm 100 (NRSV)
November 18, 2007
Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf
4Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him, bless his name.
5For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all
generations.
I'm so glad that in 1789 President George Washington issued a national
Thanksgiving Proclamation in which he wrote, "Now therefore I do recommend and
assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of
these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent
Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be--That we may then all unite
in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks--for his kind care and
protection of the People of this Country...." I'm so glad that following this
proclamation Congress declared Thanksgiving to be one of our National Holidays.
I'm so glad that it remains a time when no matter who we are, no matter what faith
we practice, no matter what people we call our ancestors, no matter what hardships
we might have faced or be facing we are invited for a least a few hours on one day
to "give thanks." For I believe that it is true that gratitude, true gratitude fills us
with joy and releases powerful energy for good in our lives and in the world!
As I was thinking about today and how I might invite us to begin that
thanksgiving a little ahead of schedule, I came across a sermon by Rev. Bass
Mitchell in which he recounted a thanksgiving story from his youth. I'd like to share
it with you in Rev. Mitchell's own words:
His name was Kenny. He was my best friend in elementary school.
We had much in common. He had three sisters, so did I, so we were able
to comfort one another. He liked to collect coins, so did I. He went to
church, so did I (though not to the same one).
He liked Debbie Fulcher, the coolest girl in 5th grade, and so did I. He
really liked school and so...well, you can't be alike in every way!
His family had moved to our town from a place called Massachusetts -
which sounded like a foreign country to me. Indeed, Kenny and his family
had a peculiar accent and I often teased him about it. He would rightly
point out that I had quite an accent as well.
Kenny and his family also had strange customs. And one of them I
discovered when they invited me to a meal at their house around
Thanksgiving...
We all went into the dining room. The table was set - plates and
glasses but no food. Not even a piece of bread. We all sat down and then
I noticed beside each empty plate a little pile of corn, five kernels to be
exact. And my first thought was, "I didn't know Kenny and his family
were so poor!" My second thought was, "I'm gonna starve!"
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Then I saw Kenny's father nod to his youngest daughter and she
asked, "Father, why are there five pieces of corn beside our plates?"
I wanted to know that too.
And I don't remember everything he said, but the gist of it was that
the Pilgrim fathers and mothers faced many hardships when they came to
America seeking freedom to worship God as they felt they should. One of
those was hunger. One of the first winters it was so bad that they had
only five pieces of corn per person each day to eat. The next spring,
however, because of God's blessings through help from their Indian
friends, they had a bountiful harvest and raised their voices in
thanksgiving, inviting their new Indian friends to a great banquet - the
first Thanksgiving. So the five pieces of corn are there to remind us of
their suffering, of our bounty, and our need to give thanks.
Then he picked up a piece of corn and looked around at his family and
told them and God, I suppose, just how thankful he was for them. He laid
the piece of corn on the other side of the plate. Then Kenny's mother
took a kernel of corn and named something she was thankful for...and
they went around the table until they got to Kenny...and Kenny, I still see
him holding that tiny piece of corn, looked at me and said that he was
thankful for me, and what a good friend I had been to him, for he didn't
think he would make any friends when he moved here. I felt my eyes
grow moist...but it was my turn...I picked up a piece of corn and then
shared thanks for Kenny and his whole strange family, for I was beginning
to like them all, even his sisters...
We went around the table until everyone had given thanks for five
blessings, one for each piece of corn...
After that, we all went out to the kitchen and there laying on the
counter were all kinds of food. What a relief! We all took the food back
out to the table and then stood behind our chairs and held hands while
Kenny's father gave thanks. Then, at long last, we got to eat!
4Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him, bless his name.
5For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all
generations.
Now my friends at Trinity United Church of Christ have a custom that I really
like; whenever the preacher or worship leader says "God is good" the gathered
community -with great feeling- responds "all the time." Then the leader follows
with the words "all the time" and the gathered community -with great feelingresponds
"God is good." So let's try it...
"God is good"
"all the time"
"All the time"
"God is good"
It's important to remember that, isn't it?
"God is good"
"all the time"
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"All the time"
"God is good"
I believe that taking the time to remember our blessings and say "thank you"
for them is one way that we can remember that
"God is good"
"all the time"
"All the time"
"God is good"
To share all the things for which I am thankful -all the blessings in my lifewould
take far more than five kernels of corn. I'm sure the same is true for you.
But right now, what I'm going to invite each of us to do is to turn to someone
sitting nearby -that may mean some of you will have to move a little bit- share
with one another some of the things for which you are thankful. So that everyone
gets a chance to say at least one or two things I'm going to suggest that person "A"
says one thing and then together the two of you say, "God, we give you thanks!"
Then "B" does the same thing. Then repeat that with a second thing. Some of you
will barely get two things in during the time I will give us to do this. Others of you
will share many more blessings perhaps with less commentary. The number you
share is not important, but try to be specific. In other words instead of saying, "I'm
thankful for my family," say something like "I'm thankful for my husband Tom who
supports and encourages me when I am struggling." or "I'm thankful for my friend
Yolanda who listens to my joy and my pain and accepts them both with love."
Remember after each person shares you both say "God we give you thanks." OK,
let's try it.....
"God is good"
"all the time"
"All the time"
"God is good"
Please join me as we sing Give Thanks
Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks unto the Holy One
Give thanks because He's given Jesus Christ, His Son
Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks unto the Holy One
Give thanks because He's given Jesus Christ, His Son
And now let the weak say, "I am strong"
Let the poor say, "I am rich
Because of what the Lord has done for us"
And now let the weak say, "I am strong"
Let the poor say, "I am rich
Because of what the Lord has done for us"
Give thanks

Changed for Good
Reflections of the Wife of Zacchaeus
Luke 19:1-10
November 11, 2007
Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf
Change! Talk about change -unexpected change! Well, that's what came to
my house oh so many years ago!
But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Zapphora and I was born and
raised in Jericho -a rich, vibrant city 23 miles down the hill from Jerusalem.
Jericho was not only a rich trade and agricultural center but also a place where
pilgrims to Jerusalem stopped to rest and ready themselves for the final climb
into the Holy City. But, even so, not all of Jericho's residents shared in her
wealth. In fact, you had to be born into wealth or a trade to have any kind of
decent life in Jericho and my parents had neither. So we lived in the ghetto,
barely scraping by on what my mother could earn working at one of the Inns
while my father tended the palace gardens. We children did what we could to
help out, doing odd jobs for the wealthy or begging from the pilgrims. It was a
hard life!
Our neighbor Zacchaeus didn't have it much better. Sometimes when he and
I found ourselves working in the same place we would talk about our dreams of a
better life. Although I didn't really have much hope that things would ever
change. Even so, Zacchaeus and I both attended synagogue when we could and
prayed that God still heard the cries of the poor and would bless us and our
families.
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Then one day Zacchaeus told me that he had decided that he was going to
make a bid for the tax collector job that had opened up. It was about the only
way poor folks could get ahead. How excited we both were when he found out
that he got it! Maybe God does answer prayers, I thought!
Before long Zacchaeus had lifted himself out of the ghetto and was building a
fine new home. That's when he came to my father and asked for my hand in
marriage. My father spat in his face. "No daughter of mine will ever marry a tax
collector," he shouted and then walked away leaving us standing there, stunned
and speechless.
But I wouldn't take "no" for an answer! Not only had I grown to love
Zacchaeus, but I too wanted out of the ghetto. I wanted safety and security. I
wanted the life of ease and well-being that his position would provide. Although it
broke my heart to do it, I left home and married Zacchaeus without my father's
blessing!
Zacchaeus was so good at what he did that very soon he was elevated to the
position of chief tax collector, which meant he not only made a commission on
the taxes he colleted himself, but he also got a portion of the taxes collected by
all the other agents in his area. Now we were really set! We were the ones who
could afford servants! We were the ones with money! Of course I was saddened
when both our families disowned us as traitors. I was disheartened that
Zacchaeus' position meant we were no longer welcome to attend synagogue. I
was dismayed that all our old friends also turned their back on us. But we were
safe and secure; it was enough, at first.
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But, in time we both began to realize what a high price we had paid for our
safety and security. We both began to feel the empty ache in our hearts and we
longed to pray with others and be part of the community again. Yet, neither of us
was willing to give up our security and our wealth. At least that's what I thought.
Little did I know when he left the house that day just what change was in store
for us!
Later Zacchaeus told me that he was on his way to his office when he saw
people running toward the center of town. Being curious and needing to stay in
touch with the major events of our town, he followed. Little good it did. You see,
Zacchaeus was so short and there were so many people that he couldn't see a
thing. Because no one would have answered him if he asked what was
happening, he decided to climb a tree to see what he could see. It seemed that
just about as soon as he edged himself out onto the limb, the crowd stopped
moving because the man all the fuss seemed to be about, had stopped and was
looking directly up at him. Man, did he feel foolish. Here he was a wealthy tax
collector up in a tree looking at some no count band of pilgrims. It got even
worse when some of our former neighbors recognized him and started laughing
and calling him names.
Then the man raised his hand and the crowd fell silent as he began to speak:
"Zacchaeus, come on down. I'm going to stay at your house!"
Zacchaeus was so shocked he almost fell out of the tree. "My house?" he
stammered. "No one ever comes to my house. If you know my name you must
know what an outcast I am! My house? You really want to come to my house?"
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Well, if you think Zacchaeus was surprised, imagine my shock and surprise
when Zacchaeus came through our gates with this huge crowd following behind
him!
"Zapphora" he cried as he rushed into the room where I was sitting.
"Zapphora, we have guest for dinner. Come meet my new friend Jeshua. He's a
Rabbi, a healer, a prophet, but he's so different from anyone I've ever met
before. Zapphora, come meet him and welcome our guests."
I was beside myself! Hospitality demanded that I not only welcome our
guests, but also prepare a meal for them and make them feel comfortable. But
we never had guests, so I wasn't sure what to do. So, after welcoming them, I
was about to leave and call our servants to help me in what seemed like a
daunting task, but Jeshua said, "Zapphora, let us all help. I know you weren't
expecting us and my disciples and I would enjoy helping you prepare some food."
He was different!
As we worked he talked about God's love. He said that God does hear the
cries of the poor, but depends on those who have the resources helping those
who do not. He said that the religious officials had gotten so consumed with the
letter of the law that they had forgotten the spirit of the law -love- love of God,
love of your neighbors, all of them, and love of self. He said that each and every
person was a child of God, filled with the spark of Divine Love and how when we
allowed God's Love to guide our living that spark would become a flame that
would shine more and more brightly. Then he looked directly at Zacchaeus and
me and said, "I know the two of you have had a hard life. I know you think your
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safety and security are to be found in the money you have. But they are not. You
are living in fear and fear hardens your hearts and robs you of the joy and true
abundance God desires for every person."
Something in his eyes and the tender way in which he spoke stirred some
long dead place in my heart. A longing to share my love life with others began to
bubble up in me. But before I could say a word, Zacchaeus turned to Jeshua and
said, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have
defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much."
Talk about change -unexpected change! Oh, Zacchaeus still collected taxes,
but now he made sure that he and all his agents were fair in their dealings. It
became our passion to make sure that everyone in our town had enough to eat, a
place to stay and the basic necessities of life. We were especially drawn to the
widows and the orphans -the ones the Torah said had a special place in God's
heart; the ones the religious elite seemed to forget about all together. I spent my
days making clothes for the orphans, Zacchaeus saw to it that every widow had a
safe place to live. Now we often had guests in our home for we opened our doors
to the poor pilgrims who could not afford the price of a room in the Inn. Our lives
had meaning and purpose and our hearts bubbled with joy!
Talk about change -unexpected change! But that's the kind of change that
always seems to come when you truly open your heart and your life to God. I
don't know if we were changed for the better, but I do know we were changed for
good!
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