Fresh Faith for the First Sunday after Pentecost

June 7, 2009

Dear Readers of Fresh Faith:

For nearly six months I have posted reflections on biblical texts on a weekly basis through fresh Faith. In some cases these texts have been the same stories about which I have preached on Sunday mornings. At other times I have reflected on stories that seemed to call for my attention in a more personal way, and which have been shared only by way of the internet. My basic goal has been to engage the rich stories of our tradition for personal and social transformation.

For the coming weeks of Fresh Faith (or perhaps for the coming months!) I am inviting you to join with me on an expedition into one of the Bible’s great epic sagas: the story of the prophet Elijah. Ever since I was a student at Union Theological Seminary from 1982-1985 I have nourished a deep interest in the life of this major prophetic figure, and have sought to understand his influence on the life and ministry of Jesus.

Since the Bible offers us a sustained drama about Elijah, I wish to explore those stories over a period of time to see what they might say to us during this period of time in which we strive to live with faith, hope and love. I hope you will read the story of Elijah along with me, and begin to form your own perspectives about this mysterious, yet thoroughly human, character.

If you feel that these upcoming meditations might benefit someone else in your life, I encourage you to pass the word along! May this next adventure of faith deepen our relationship with God, in whom we live, move and have our being.

Yours in Christ,

Edward G. Horstmann
Senior Pastor
Immanuel Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Hartford, CT

From Burial Ground to Birthplace

Fresh Faith for Pentecost Sunday
May 31, 2009

Scripture lessons:
Ezekiel 37.1-14
Acts 2.1-21

God said to me, ‘Mortal, can these bones live?’ I answered, ‘O Lord God, you know.’
Ezekiel 37:3 (New Revised Standard Version)

An entire valley of human bones: leering skulls, femurs and rib cages. We are not told what catastrophic event led to the creation of such remains. But Ezekiel sees this devastation and is confronted with a question that stretches belief and imagination to the breaking point. God said to Ezekiel: “Mortal, can these bones live?”

The question is a haunting one, for it has as much relevance for us as it did for the prophet. When we look at devastated inner city landscapes, or once vital churches now boarded up, or broken relationships, the ancient question appears with renewed force: can these bones live?

Ezekiel’s answer to this question is brief and humble: “O Lord God, you know.” He does not present a technique, guarantee or three-step method to assure renewal. Perhaps Ezekiel really does not know whether there is a power enlivening enough to put flesh on bones and breath back into bodies. But his reply gives God room to work, and that turns out to be all that God really needs to begin the process of resurrection.

A miracle took place in the valley of dry bones: a burial ground became a birthplace. Who knows what miracles God may fashion in the breathless places of our lives, if we open ourselves to the possibility of resurrection?

Prayer: O God, save us from despair when we survey the devastations within us and around us. Show us how to be participants in your healing work and to make way for the essential gift of your Spirit, which fills the world with life and love; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Voices in the Night

Fresh Faith for the Seventh Sunday of Easter
May 24, 2009

Scripture lessons:
1 Samuel 3.1-10
John 1.43-51

“Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli.
The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.”
1 Samuel 3.1 (New Revised Standard Version)

The author of the First Book of Samuel describes a time in the history of his people, when “the word of the Lord was rare…[and] visions were not widespread.” But then he tells the story of a young boy, Samuel, awakened by a voice in the night that called to him by name. When Samuel responded with the words, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening,” a new vision was born for the people of Israel.

I think we move through stretches of life when voices of vision seem rare at best. Artists speak of times of dryness, and lovers speak of losing the passion that united them. But it is also true that ideas and insights can emerge quite unexpectedly through daily experience, in ways that offer fresh vision and a way forward into richer and fuller life. God called to Samuel, Jesus called his disciples, and the Spirit calls to us, beckoning us to join with the forces that make for peace and goodwill.

The great Jewish scholar, Abraham Heschel, claimed that “God is not always silent…In every person’s life there is a lifting of the veil at the horizon of the unknown, opening a sight of the eternal.” When the veil lifts, as it did for young Samuel, may we be ready to listen, and follow the way that is inspired by wisdom and moves towards hope.

Prayer: O God of vision, grant us willing and receptive spirits, so that when you speak, we may hear, and having heard, may follow you with faith, hope and love; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

For the Sixth Week of Easter

Scripture lessons
Exodus 33.12-23
Matthew 22.15-22

“Moses said, ‘Show me your glory, I pray.’”
Exodus 33.18
New Revised Standard Version

The Book of Exodus helps us to overhear the wonderful conversations that unfold between God and Moses. Those meetings sound like encounters between old and trusting friends. Promises are made; dreams and fears are shared; strategies are developed. No wonder the author of that book says that “the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend.” (33.11)

But though God and Moses spoke face to face, they did not see face to face. “Show me your glory, I pray,” said Moses (33.18). The prayer was granted, but with a condition. For not even to Moses was all of God revealed; for him, as for us, the mystery of God was never compromised. “You cannot see my face,” said God, “for no one shall see me and live.” (33.20)

God is alive and God is mystery: Moses honored those truths and embraced them. Where we might be apt to talk about God, Moses talked with God. And while he did not shrink, as we might, from sharing with God the chief desires of his heart, he cherished the freedom of the Creator, whose ways are not always our ways.

“Show me your glory, I pray,” demanded Moses. It is a bold but fitting prayer for all who would serve with humility the living God.

Prayer: O mysterious and loving God, we offer our lives to you, in the assurance of your friendship, and in the confidence that in your light we may see light; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Breaking and Entering

Scripture lesson:
Genesis 28:10-19a

“Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, And I did not know it.”
Genesis 28:16 (New Revised Standard Version)

Jacob is one of the great scoundrels of the Bible, a man who cheated his brother and deceived his father to gain his way. And yet God had a peculiar affection for him, as God seems to have a peculiar affection for all those whom the world defines as lost, or beyond help, or not worthy of forgiveness.

The story of Jacob is about the ways that God will find to embrace a person or nation, and Lord knows, Jacob did not leave much of a chink in his emotional armor through which God could enter his heart. In fact, God had to break into and enter Jacob’s life through the back door of his dreams, and speak to him there the good news that the lines of communication between heaven and earth are always open. So not only does God know where we are, but God comes to be with us, a fellow traveler and guide in our journey to be fully human.

Who knows how God will come to us and speak a word of truth and love, until we realize, like Jacob, that God is with us and for us? Surely the Lord is in this place, in a grief we bear, in the meeting of two strangers by a bus, in bread and water, in the new day dawning: beckoning us to rise up and be alive!

We give thanks, O God, for your gracious presence in the common things of life; awaken us to your joy in the ordinary moments, so that we may live with extraordinary vitality, as Jesus did. Amen.

Still waters

Scripture lesson: Psalm 23

‘[God] makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.” Psalm 23.2-3 (New Revised Standard Version)

Jesus made it clear to his disciples that he “came not to be served but to serve.” At the core of Christian discipleship is the call to service. Thus we nurture our children to be kind to others (including those who are not kind to us), to participate in mission trips, and to volunteer when opportunities arise to make the world a more habitable place.

But in the midst of our caring a question haunts us: do we care for ourselves in ways that replenish the strength to love? I hear stories of people who regularly offer themselves for the good of others, yet complain of exhaustion. Have we forgotten God’s desire to restore our souls?

In the twelfth century Bernard of Clairvaux shared these words with his monks: “I cannot see myself being enriched by your wasting of your powers. For if you are mean to yourself, to whom will you be good?” Do we give God ample opportunity to transform weariness into vitality?

In Psalm 23 I find a prescription of green pastures and still waters for faithful souls who have become weary. Better yet, these gifts of rest and replenishment are available for our enjoyment prior to the onset of exhaustion. Amid our desire to respond positively to the call to love others, may we also say ‘yes’ to God’s longing to keep us fresh and vibrant. With such faith, our caring can be nourishing for those we seek to help and for ourselves.

Prayer: O God of abundant life: help us to create the space in which you may nourish us as only you can, that we may grow in our relationship with you and in our devotion to be servants of the common good in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Fresh Faith for Easter Sunday

April 12, 2009
Mark 16:1-8

Terrified and Amazed

Scripture lesson: Mark 16.1-8

“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them;
And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
Mark 16.1-8 New Revised Standard Version

When I was a senior in high school, I joined my friends one afternoon for a game of basketball in a neighbor’s driveway. At some point the sky darkened, and great raindrops began to fall around us. As we scattered to drier places, I ran along the edge of a golf course on my way home. Suddenly a bolt of lightning tore through the skies and struck a tree on the course. At that terrifying moment I felt a perfect mixture of fear and amazement. Not since that time have I moved so quickly to escape the rain!

The gospel of Mark says that the friends of Jesus experienced his resurrection with a mixture of terror and amazement; and indeed, they were rendered speechless. And it is probably true that many of our most vivid experiences of life usher us precisely into the place where we may feel most overwhelmed or stunned with the unsettling power of God. The birth of a child, falling in love, the energy of a bold idea, the rising of hope in the midst of despair: such experiences evoke amazement and awe. We sense that we are in the presence of mighty forces, and the hairs on the backs of our necks stand up as a sign of our sheer aliveness.

In the words of the English poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, may Christ ‘easter in us,’ so that the power of God will not only amaze or terrify us, but liberate and inspire us to walk in the ways of peace, hope and compassion.

Prayer: O God of resurrection power, startle us with your surprising grace and energy. Enter into our lives where we have crowded out miracles and imagination, and strengthen us to be witnesses and ambassadors of your boundless love; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Caught in the Act of Caring

Scripture lessons:
Ezekiel 34.11-16, 20-24
Matthew 25.31-46

And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you,
Just as you did it to the least of those who are members of my family,
you did it to me.’
Matthew 25.40 (New Revised Standard Version)

There is a beautiful pulpit in St. Giles’ Cathedral in Edinburgh, Scotland that is carved from stone. On its sides a sculptor has shaped small figures in the act of caring for people in need: feeding the hungry, welcoming strangers, and visiting those in prison. Along the sides of the pulpit, the stone is radiant with expressions of love.

The acts of mercy depicted on the pulpit in St. Giles’—and described in the Gospel of Matthew—are indispensable to human growth and healing. How would we survive without being fed or cared for, especially at our most vulnerable moments? Furthermore, Jesus promises that in the midst of such care we encounter him. He is as close to us as the person needing comfort, shelter, food and friendship.

“I will seek the lost,” says God through the prophet Ezekiel. A word of welcome to a stranger, a donation of time to a food pantry, letters to a prisoner and a phone call to a grieving friend, represent just some of the ways in which we, too, can care for those who have been bruised and battered by life. Through such acts of mercy we join our lives to the cause of God, and share our live with Jesus, the man for others.

Prayer: Forbid, O God, that we should overlook the opportunities to serve you that lie before us each day; and help us to be faithful to you in ways that are small and great; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Fresh Faith for the Fifth Sunday in Lent

March 29, 2009
Psalm 23

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”
Psalm 23:1

A friend once told me that he carried in his memory a ‘Bible within a Bible.’ This interior library, written on his heart and mind, was composed of poems, passages from scripture, hymns, anecdotes and quotations that he had gleaned throughout the years. He drew inspiration from it when in doubt, and sought wisdom from this treasury when going through a process of discernment.

My guess is that many of us carry within our lives such a sacred collection. I would also imagine that for people of faith in the Christian tradition there are certain texts that would be highly likely to appear in that ‘Bible within a Bible.’ Principal among them would be the words to the 23rd Psalm. Among all the psalms it is probably safe to say that this is the best known and most widely loved. It continues to be shared and interpreted in many ways: through contemporary songs, calligraphy, quilts and various artistic renderings. I can imagine that many soldiers serving in Iraq and Afghanistan have committed these words to memory. Over and over again Psalm 23 is spoken and shared in places where people anticipate death and keep vigil with the dying: in hospice houses, hospitals and nursing care facilities.

Despite the fact that the majority of the world’s population now lives in cities, the pastoral images of the 23rd psalm remain highly attractive. There is also an emotional honesty about the words which gives them resonance for people who live in tumult and transition. Vivid images of green pastures and still waters are held in balance with references to ‘the valley of the shadow of death,’ and eating in the presence of enemies. While it is reassuring to think of the accompaniment of a loving shepherd who provides comfort with both rod and staff, the fact remains that the rod and staff are necessary because of external threats like ravenous beasts who want to get at the sheep. We are meant to be grateful for the shepherd who walks softly but, on our behalf, carries a big stick.

The power of the 23rd psalm lies in part in its ability to intersect with our lives in many different ways. The images of rest and stillness in the early verses of the psalm are nothing less than a clarion call to reflection for all of us who strive to make our way in a culture of distraction. Presumably there is a sign near the green pastures and still waters asking all who enter those restful places to do so without their cell phones and pagers! These words offer a wonderful invitation to receive life without the mostly self-imposed burdens of heavy expectations, demanding schedules and diminishing returns on our investments. What the author of this psalm cares most about is not productivity but trust: our willingness to let go of our tight control on life, and experience instead a free fall into grace.

Psalm 23 is also an invitation to faithfulness even when the forces against life and human flourishing seem marshaled against us. The truth about life is that there are valleys, and the shadow of death is cast not only by the death we must one day die, but by the threats that darken our lives when we seek to be instruments of peace, justice and hope. There is an honest affirmation in this psalm: not everyone who sits at table with us will be our ally, and we should expect opposition as we seek to counter violence with peace, and bitterness with mercy. Our response to such opposition is to recognize that reality but not to leave the table, or our quest for God’s justice. Render to no one evil for evil, wrote Paul in his Letter to the Romans, and maybe he was inspired to offer that encouragement based on his reading of this psalm.

In a time of economic downturn, in a time when depression threatens to become not only a financial reality, but the psychological condition of a nation, the 23rd psalm still has the power to center our lives in God. It does so by calling us to trust, to be faithful to our journey with God no matter where it may lead, and to commit our lives to a promise of life that can not be extinguished by death.

Fresh Faith for the Fourth Sunday in Lent

March 22, 2009
Psalm 1:1-3

“Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of the scoffers;
but their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper.”
Psalm 1.1-3 (New Revised Standard Version)

The Psalms have been called the prayer book of the Bible. There are one hundred and fifty of them, and if you read through the entire collection you will meet a wide range of human emotions. There is ecstasy and whining, unembarrassed faith in God and great anger at God’s apparent powerlessness, lament and thanksgiving. All in all, the Book of Psalms reflects the human encounter with God in all of its frustration, glory, disappointment and blessing. To call upon this collection of poetry and songs as the inspiration for our own prayers is to witness the human spirit in search of dialogue and partnership with the Spirit of life. This enterprise, as Christopher Fry states in one of his poems, is nothing less than an exploration into God.

If those who compiled the Psalms are inviting us into the ultimate journey, a pilgrimage into the heart of the One who fashioned all creations, then it would seem worth noting their counsel about how to begin such an undertaking. I think of the first psalm as that kind of invitation. Yet it turns out to be a very awkward invitation, more like a warning than gentle spiritual counsel. There are references to the wicked, sinners and scoffers (language that is unashamedly harsh). There is a strong appeal for us to focus our lives “in the law of the Lord,” yet the word “law” is hardly popular in the context of liberal progressive religion (we prefer “love” and “compassion”). The poem concludes by assuring the reader that “the wicked” will meet a decisive and devastating end to their lives. They will quite literally be driven from the sanctuary of human existence, exiled forever from the life and love of God.

My first reaction when I read material like this in the Bible is to wonder what in the world it can mean for us in a world like ours. Yet there is another part of me that wants to know how God will speak through a text like this, however offensive it may seem to my hearing. After all, the composer of this psalm stated his hope very clearly in the body of the poem: that we might live fruitful lives. This is also an invitation and intention that Jesus extended to his followers. So what are the keys to this fruitful living?

I see Psalm 1 as the record of someone who cared enough for others to speak a necessary truth: don’t take bad advice! Be on the lookout for those who offer prosperity and hope based on false promises. Be on the lookout for those who seek to convince us that might makes right, that the search for justice can be delayed, that the death penalty will reduce violent crime, and that we can live beyond our means without considering how a lifestyle based on overconsumption will ultimately lead to dire consequences for the entire creation. The current economic collapse is the result of a willingness to take on financial obligations that have proven impossible to manage for millions of people. In many cases, buyers of homes were offered the promise of the American dream when it was not necessarily prudent or timely to buy into that dream. While I would not necessarily use the word ‘wicked’ to describe the individuals and organizations who encouraged such overextension, the author of Psalm 1 would see in these transactions the evidence of giving false counsel. The results of believing in that counsel have been catastrophic for people in the United States and across the world.

We are fortunate when someone cares enough for us to remind us to be prayerful and discerning as we sift through the counsel that we are given by others. We are equally fortunate when people care for us enough to make us aware when we have become a dampening force on the lives of others. “Do not sit in the seat of scoffers” is a challenge to be for others an experience of light and hope: to encourage and strengthen, not to demean and diminish. When Jesus called people to be ‘the salt of the earth and the light of the world,’ it was not simply a challenge to be uplifting. It was a profound invitation to be nourishing so that all might live helpful and hopeful lives.

While the author of the first psalm states his passion for a wise life in ways that may seem fierce and judgmental, I sense a deep and abiding concern for the welfare of all people at the heart of his words. This is a poem written in the hopes that embrace a fruitful life in which we are deeply and thoughtfully engaged with the wisdom of God, and meaningfully encouraging of those around us. Thank God that this author took the time to compose such a provocative and compassionate call to a wise and good life.