February 2008 Archives

From Darkness to Light

At the Well

John 4:5-30 & 39-42

Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf

[walk in carrying water jug, at first not noticing the congregation] Oh, good morning. Have you come to the well for a drink? I'm sorry I don't have cups for all of you. But maybe I have something better, maybe I have something that will fill your soul and quench the thirsting of your heart. I found that something at this well many, many years ago; and every time I come to draw water, I remember. I think I heard someone telling you the facts of what happened that day, but let me tell you the rest of the story.

When I was young, I was just like most of the other women in my village, my parents arranged my marriage to Simeon. I was terrified and excited all at the same time. Thankfully Simeon was a kind and gentle man and I grew to love him very much. As time went by, however, things became more and more strained because no matter how hard I prayed and hoped and dreamed I could not give Simeon a child. Then, one day there was a terrible accident and I received word that Simeon had been killed. I was devastated. But, before I even had time to grieve, Simeon's parents insisted that I marry his brother Samuel, so that I could give Simeon the son he would have loved. It was so very difficult. But what choice did I have. It was, after all the law.

From Darkness to Light
In the Searching
2
February 17, 2008
2nd Sunday in Lent
Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf
The story is told of a wise woman who happened to be traveling a mountain
path not too far from her home when she found a precious stone in a stream. The
next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and being as kind as she was
wise, the woman opened her bag to share her food with the hungry traveler. As
she did so the traveler saw the precious stone in the woman's bag, admired it
and asked the wise woman to give it to him. She did so, without hesitation.
The traveler left rejoicing in his good fortune because he knew that the jewel
was worth enough to provide for him for the rest of his life.
But a few days later the traveler returned to the mountain path searching for
the wise woman. When he found her, he returned the stone and said, "I have
been thinking and wondering these past few days. I know how valuable this
stone is, but I give it back to you in the hope that you can give me something
much more precious. If you can, please give me what you have within you that
empowered you to give me this precious stone without a moment's hesitation."
So it was that under the cover of darkness, Nicodemus came searching;
searching for this one called Jesus; searching for what it was that this man had
within him that empowered him to do the things he did and speak with an
authority that seemed to flow from his center. Nicodemus was a Pharisee, a rich
and powerful Pharisee, a member of the Sanhedrin - the council of seventy-one
sages who constituted the Supreme Court and legislative body in Judea. Yet he
was also a man with unanswered questions, unsolved puzzles and unmet
longings. He was a man in search of something more in his life -the something
more that he suspected he might find in this simple carpenter from the nowhere
village of Nazareth. Jesus had no training, where did he get his knowledge? He
was from a poor family, where did he find his wisdom? He was a carpenter, how
could he possibly open the eyes of the blind and cause the lame to walk? Some
members of the political-religious establishment were sure he was in league with
the devil; some discounted him as another one of the crazies who destabilized
the status quo and threatened to bring the wrath of Rome on the nation. But
Nicodemus, he wasn't sure. He had heard this Jesus speak, seem some of the
miracles, listened to him teach and he had a few questions. Questions he needed
to get answered for himself.
"Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one
can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God."
That's apparently all Nicodemus needed to say for Jesus to see to the heart of
his searching. "What you're looking for will only happen when you experience a
spiritual rebirth."
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"But I'm a grown man; can I enter again my mother's womb? How is that
possible? What is it you are talking about?" Questions, questions and more
questions; that's what we hear in this conversation. In his questions, Nicodemus
is willing to open his heart and his mind. In his questions he is willing to
acknowledge that there are things beyond his understanding. In his questions he
is willing to be taught. But how about some answers please!
When Christy Carter Koski was in high school, her English teacher, gave the
class the assignment to write an essay based on one statement from a list
created by other students. Hear her words as she recounts that assignment:
At 17, I was beginning to wonder about so many things, so I chose
the statement: "I wonder why things are the way they are?"
That night I wrote down in the form of a story all the questions that
puzzled me about life. I realized that many of them were hard to
answer, and perhaps others could not be answered at all. When I
turned in my paper, I was afraid I might fail the assignment because I
had not answered the question ... I had no answers. I had written only
questions.
The next day Mr. Reynolds called me to the front of the class and
asked me to read my story for the other students. ... The class became
quiet as I began to read my story: Mommie, Daddy ..... Why?
Mommie, why are the roses red? Mommie, why is the grass green
and the sky blue? Why does a spider have a web and not a house?
Daddy, why can't I play in your toolbox? Teacher, why do I have to
read?
Mother, why can't I wear lipstick to the dance? Daddy, why can't I
stay out until 12:00? The other kids are! Mother, why do you hate me?
Daddy, why don't the boys like me? Why do I have to be so skinny?
Why do I have to wear glasses? Why do I have to be 16?
Mom, why do I have to graduate? Dad, why do I have to grow up?
Mom, Dad, why do I have to leave?
Mom, why don't you write more often? Dad, why do I miss my old
friends? Dad, why do you love me so much? Dad, why do you spoil me?
Your little girl is growing up. Mom, why don't you visit? Mom, why is it
hard to make new friends? Dad, why do I miss being at home?
Dad, why does my heart skip a beat when he lookst in my eyes?
Mom, why do my legs tremble when I hear his voice? Mother, why is
being in love the greatest feeling in the world?
Daddy, why don't you like to be called "Gramps"? Mother, why do
my baby's tiny fingers cling so tightly to mine?
Mother, why do they have to grow up? Daddy, why do they have to
leave? Why do I have to be called "Grannie"?
Mommie, Daddy, why did you have to leave me? I need you!
Why did my youth slip past me? Why does my face show every
smile I have ever given a friend or a stranger? Why does my hair
glisten a shinny silver? Why do my hands quiver when I bend to pick a
flower? Why, God, are the roses red?
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At the conclusion of my story, my eyes locked with Mr. Reynolds'
eyes, and I saw a tear slowly sliding down his check. It was then that I
realized life is not always based on the answers we receive, but also on
the questions we ask.
Somewhere in the midst of his questions, Nicodemus heard the faint echoes
of answers that he could not yet comprehend. Somewhere in the process of his
searching Nicodemus caught a glimmer of what had been true for eternity: "God
so loved the world." But he would only come to the fullness of all that meant as
he dared to live his questions.
Sometimes I hear folks criticize the United Church of Christ because we do
not give absolute answers. Rather we honor the questions, dare to embrace
uncertainty, and welcome searching because we trust that God is still speaking,
still pouring more light and truth into the midst of our searching. For me these
words of poet Rainer Maria Rilke capture the essence of that trust:
... have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to
love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books
written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which
could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live
them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now.
Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without
even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
Honor the questions of your heart and dare to embrace the uncertainty of life
with hope, trusting that the One who came to reveal God's love journeys with
you in your searching. Amen.

From Darkness to Light
In the Wilderness
Matthew 4:1-11
February 10, 2008
First Sunday in Lent
Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf
It seems like yesterday that we gathered in this very room to sing carols and
celebrate again the birth of the baby who was "wrapped in swaddling clothes and
laid in a manger;" and now here we are on the first Sunday in Lent, preparing to
journey to Jerusalem with the all grown up baby Jesus. Wasn't it just last week that
we stood on a mountaintop of joy and heard again the voice of God saying, "This is
my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!"? And now here we
are with that beloved son in the wilderness! We just aren't ready. But then, when
are we ever ready for the wilderness? When are we ever ready to face the dark
night of the soul? No, we just aren't ready to be here facing the pain and witnessing
the struggle. We want to turn back the clock or at the very least halt time so that
we can remain forever in the joyous light filled moments in time. But that's not how
life is, is it? Clouds come and hide the sun, storms rage and chill us to the bone, life
happens and we wonder "why did this happen to me?".
I suspect that the same was true for the very human Jesus. For you see, as
each of the gospel writers tells the story, Jesus was still dripping with the waters of
his own baptism, still sensing the power of the dove descending and still hearing
the echoes of that Divine Voice saying, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am
well pleased," when he found himself led or driven into the wilderness. Wait a
minute, what just happened? What was he doing here, if God was so pleased with
him? Where was the light? What happened to the dove? Why was that love-filled
voice suddenly silent? There was no one to teach in the wilderness. There was no
one to care for in the wilderness. What was he doing here? What was the testing he
had to endure? What was this dark night of the soul all about?
Confusion, bewilderment, fear, loneliness, grief, despair, doubt, pain, these are
the emotions of the wilderness and we know all too well what it's like to find
ourselves there. Whether because of choices we make or unwanted circumstances
life thrusts upon us, the wilderness is an all too human experience, an all too
familiar reality.
Voice 1
I know the wilderness. I've been there too.
I've been there in hours and days of grief.
I've grieved for lives swallowed by death:
some deaths that have only echoed through my life.
with the sound of long-closed doors locking forever;
but also those deaths that have ripped open gashes in my heart and mind,
that have left gaping holes in my life.
I've also known that wilderness of grief over words of love that I was too afraid to
say;
over parts of my self that have died from disuse;
Over dear friends who have drifted
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out of my life and will never be found again.
I've been there in that comfortless desert that echoes with the grief of all people.
No shelter there from the tears.
No shade there from the pain.
No place to hide there from the emptiness inside.
The wilderness is life.
Voice 2
I know the wilderness. I too have been there.
I've been there at times when I've had no hope.
Sometimes it's been personal. Up against a wall of failure,
with no one left to blame and nothing to hide my inadequacy;
or under a landslide of guilt, feeling dirty and twisted and without worth.
Without that fragile hint of hope, life is a wilderness.
But sometimes it's bigger than I am.
Just reading the newspaper can bring on despair for the whole weeping planet.
Hatred and violence breed poverty and injustice,
infecting new generations as the old one passes
decimated into twilight.
Where is the hope when children of starvation compete for headlines
with children of abuse and neglect, where understanding seems rare
and prejudice is the rule.
I've been there in the wilderness,
Where there's no shelter from despair;
Where there's no shade from the glare of guilt;
Where there's no place to hide from ourselves.
The wilderness is the human race.
Voice 3
I know this lonely and desolate wilderness. I've been there.
I've been there because I've built walls around my life to keep others out:
Walls of fear, because I have been hurt;
Walls of aggression, because sometimes I want to hurt back.
I am afraid of people and what they might think of me;
how they might judge. I'd rather judge them first.
I reach out, but it's a fleeting thing, I pull back
before anyone even thinks of rejecting me.
Locked with the prison of this well-defended life,
this well-fortified self,
I know this wilderness where the only sound
is my own voice protesting the emptiness.
The wilderness is me.
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Yes, we know the wilderness and we wonder: is there any light in the
wilderness; any hope in the bareness; any stream to quench our thirsty heart; any
food to feed our starving souls? Barbara Brown Taylor describes Jesus' wilderness
struggle by pointing to the voice of the tempter who "subtly suggested that Jesus
deserved better than God was giving him." As followers of Jesus today, we may
hear a "devilish voice in our heads [that] says things like, 'If you are a child of God,
shouldn't things be going a little smoother for you? If you are really a Christian, I
mean -- shouldn't you be happier, healthier, richer, safer?'"
Now I have read dozens of interpretations preached many sermons about the
temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness. But as I pondered the text this week I
wondered, perhaps the bottom line of Jesus struggle in the wilderness was a
struggle to keep on trusting in what he had experienced and keep on believing that
he was not alone, despite all appearances to the contrary. It was a struggle to trust
the power of God even when that power seemed powerless and rely on presence of
God even when the presence seemed like an absence.
As Jesus struggled to listen deeply to the silent voice of God's speaking, he
heard the dim echoes of the sacred promises and the faint whispers of the faith
history of his people and he had the audacity to hope that the sacred promises were
true and the courage to trust that God was still at work in his life and in the world.
And the angels came to confirm his hope and his courage.
While we might wish that there were no wilderness experiences for Jesus or for
us, there is something about the wilderness that can deepen our faith and temper
our trust -like the way tempering makes steel stronger. In his wilderness
experience, Jesus found trust that would overcome doubt, wisdom that would
empower living, courage that would conquer fear, and love that would change the
world. Through his wilderness experience, Jesus speaks words of promise and hope
to our own:
Voice 4
You have a companion in that wilderness;
someone who wanders there with you.
The grief, the hopelessness, the loneliness, are not yours alone.
Somewhere in that wilderness, there is God.
Somewhere, beyond all hope of shelter,
God is a roof from the storm.
Somehow, beyond all imagining of shade,
God is an overarching tree.
Some way, in the most terrifying moment of silence,
God is a voice that touches you where you ache for touch.
Somewhere, when you've forgotten how to get out of that wilderness,
God will be there, calling you out and leading the way.
I know, because I've been there too.
I've wandered that wilderness with the rest of you,
and at the end of my strength, the angels came and ministered to me.
And God led me out of that wilderness to change the world.
 -
Amen.

Holy Encounters
Matthew 17:1-9
February 3, 2008
Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf
One day a year or so ago, Jane Kiedaisch, Doreen
Henderson and I were leading the weekly worship service at
Rosewood Care Center. During one of the first songs I
happened to notice one of the residents staring intently at
me, as if reading my lips as I sang. So I continued to look
directly at her. As I did so I became aware of her eyes; they
were so open and so transparent that it almost seemed as if
I could see her soul shining through them. I could not take
my gaze away from them and then something amazing
happened; it was as if my own heart broke open and a
connection was made between the depth of this woman's
soul and my own. In that moment I knew that her soul was
speaking to mine in a language that neither of us understood
but the message it conveyed was love -pure, unconditional
love! It was a Holy Encounter, a glimpse of Divine Radiance,
a moment when I knew that I had seen the face of God,
touched the hem of a holy garment, and tasted pure grace!
It was a moment of blessing that sent me on my way
transformed, renewed and ready for a future only God could
see!
Some 11 or so years ago, when I was on my sabbatical I
took some classes at the Institute for Culture and Creation
Spirituality in Oakland, CA. One of my teachers was Sister
José Hobday. Sister José, who was a Catholic nun, taught a
class in Native American Spirituality and Ritual. She talked
about the belief, held by most native peoples, that
everything in creation -each plant and animal, each rock and
hill, even the soil and the air, the water, the sun, the moon,
the stars, everything- has holy wisdom to share if we have
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the eyes and hearts to receive it; this wisdom, Sister José
said, was the medicine of the plant or animal or rock or
whatever. One afternoon our assignment was to take a walk
in one of the wooded areas around the school and watch and
listen for something that wanted to share its medicine with
us. As I did so, I became aware of a very large tree with low
hanging branches and a vine growing around the trunk. In
the way of mystic visions, this tree had a glow about it that
seemed to call out to me. So I stopped and just gazed at the
tree for a long, long time. Then I reached out and gently
touched the trunk and little by little drew closer until I was
first embracing and then leaning on the tree. As I did so I
sensed the deep rootedness of the tree. I sensed her
strength and her flexibility. Then something amazing
happened; my heart opened and I felt a deep connectedness
not only with this tree, but with the soil that nourished her
and the rain that bathed her and the sun greened her. As I
drew in each breath I knew it was her gift to me and as I
exhaled my own spent air I knew that I was gifting her in
return. And in that deep connectedness I felt a oneness with
all of creation and with the Author of Creation itself. It was a
Holy Encounter, a glimpse of Divine Radiance, a moment
when I knew that I had seen the face of God, touched the
hem of a holy garment, tasted pure grace. It was a moment
of blessing that sent me on my way transformed, renewed
and ready for a future only God could see!
In December, 2007 just before my dear friend and this
congregation's former secretary, Laurie, died her husband
Joe called from Florida to tell me that she was in a coma and
probably would not survive. He wanted me to know and he
also wanted to know if Laurie had ever gotten around to
asking me if I would officiate at her funeral. She had not.
"There's no one beside you she would want to do it," Joe
said. "Do you think you can do it?" he asked.
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"I don't know," I answered, "but if that's what Laurie
wants, somehow I'll make it happen,"
It was an incredibly difficult time, meeting with her family,
doing the things I usually do when I'm going to officiate at a
funeral, all the while my own heart felt like a hole had been
torn right through its center. Yet, at the same time I felt
Laurie's presence so strongly as I prepared the service that I
knew it was the right thing to be doing. Then the day of the
funeral arrived. The bagpipe played and as I walked up to
the chancel I thought my knees were going to give way
beneath me. I stopped in front of the altar and then walked
to the side and sat down during the remaining prelude
music. "God," I cried out silently, "I need you help. I don't
think I can do this." And I tried to breathe in God's love and
breathe out the pain that gripped my heart. Just as the
music ended I felt a surge of loving energy that was so
powerful it defies description. It was almost as if I was
literally lifted up and carried to the pulpit and held in the
strong arms of God through the remainder of the service. It
was a Holy Encounter, a glimpse of Divine Radiance, a
moment when I knew that I had seen the face of God,
touched the hem of a holy garment, tasted pure grace. It
was a moment of blessing that sent me on my way
transformed, renewed and ready for a future only God could
see!
Peter and James and John went with Jesus to the
mountain to pray. In the midst of their praying they were
touched by the Spirit of God and they saw the radiance of
Divine Love permeating every fiber of Jesus' being in a way
that connected them with all that had been and empowered
them for all that was to come. It was a Holy Encounter, a
glimpse of Divine Radiance, a moment when they knew that
they had seen the face of God, touched the hem of a holy
garment, tasted pure grace; and they wanted nothing more
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than to hold on to that moment and stay in that place. But
such Holy Encounters do not come so we can bask in their
glory and hang on to their joy. They come to refresh and
empower us. They come to heal and transform us. They are
sacred moments in time that come to awaken us to the everflowing
stream of Divine Love and the Sacred blessing of all
that is.
Now, most of the time, we move through life unaware that
the Spirit is lurking in the background, ready to break in and
transform our lives. Yet, in a moment when we least expect
it or most need to sense it, we just might experience a Holy
Encounter that will open our lives to the ever-present power
of Divine Love moving through us and our world. Such Holy
Encounters make visible for a moment what is true in every
moment, God is in us and we are in God and we are never
alone. In the words of Mechtild of Magdeburg a 13th century
mystic and visionary, "The day of my spiritual awakening
was the day I saw and knew I saw all things in God and God
in all things."
As we sit on the mountain with Jesus, as we walk through
the days of our lives, may we be open to receive what God
longs to give us - Holy Encounters, glimpses of Divine
Radiance, moments when we see the face of God, touch the
hem of a holy garment, taste pure grace; moments of
blessing that will send us on our way transformed, renewed
and ready for a future only God can see! Amen.