El Santo Niño Comes to Church

Sermon text for October 28, 2007:
Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Juan Medina hurt all over. The muscles in his shoulders and back screamed out in protest as he eased himself down onto the bed. His hands, hardened from years of working in the fields were like claws, bent so that the handle of a hoe would fit nicely in the groove between palm and fingers.

He closed his eyes and reviewed the day’s work in the fields – the irrigating, hoeing, stringing new fence line – and he felt proud because his sons had worked with him all day long without complaining. They were becoming men. But Juan was even more nervous than he was proud. He was always nervous this time of year, just before harvest – so many things could go wrong. He ran a few head of beef and grew corn and alfalfa, in addition to helping his wife in the kitchen garden. If they were lucky, the kitchen garden would provide his family with enough food to last through the winter.

Still, Juan worried, what if the harvest was not good this year? What if despite all of their efforts, the crop was not sufficient? Or the price of beef went down? Everything depended on producing enough to feed his family and then to sell some for cash money.

He knew that he had done all that he could do. His aching body was a testimony to his hard work. But he was at the mercy of things that he could not control: the weather, animals (both the four legged and the six legged kind). Late that night, Juan rolled out of bed and walked barefoot across the floor. He had to see if his children had done it this evening. He had been too tired to participate in the ritual, and now he had to see if the children had been faithful. He looked at the mantle over the fireplace and there was El Santo Niño, standing in his place as if he were keeping watch over the family. And on the floor directly below where El Santo Niño stood were the children’s shoes. This night El Niño would select a pair of shoes and would walk through the fields, just as he had always done. He would keep watch in the fields, bless the work that the family had done this day, and he would join them in their labor as a partner and complete the day’s work.

Juan was moved to a feeling of deep gratitude. He and his family were in a partnership with El Niño. Together they would create the miracle of new life in the fields. And because of El Niño’s help, the Medina family would have food for the coming winter. He picked the statue off of the mantle and held it close to his chest. The gratitude Juan felt at that moment was indescribable. The miracle was happening. El Niño would do for Juan’s family what they could not do for themselves.

“El Santo Niño” means “The Holy Child” in Spanish. Usually, I think that the phrase refers to the baby Jesus lying in the manger. But in the story of El Santo Niño we see Jesus as an older boy or young man. He always wears a hat to protect him from the sun, and carries a staff to help him walk through the fields. Agrarian Roman Catholics in the Americas believe that El Santo Niño borrows the children’s shoes to walk through the fields at night, creating the miracle of life, finishing the work that the family put in during the day.

As Protestant, urban, twenty-first century Christians, we could dismiss the story as being simply charming – or maybe as a myth of a simple, unsophisticated people. But if we listen to the story, we will hear a living prayer of a faithful people. The story of El Santo Niño is a prayer of a people who believe that miracles happen when people of faith partner with God.

We believe that also. We believe that God uses our gifts and efforts and applies them in a thousand places where we can never go, and maybe in tens of thousands of hearts of people we will never meet. Maybe that is why the story of El Santo Niño is important. It helps us believe that our gifts keep making a difference, even when we have run out of energy. It is a miracle! That is what we are talking about when we talk about pledges. It is more than money. It is partnership with God, who keeps on working even while we are resting.

The writer of the Book of Deuteronomy understood the power of the divine human partnership. He believed that when people are in partnership with God (the technical term is covenant) miracles happen. Our lesson from Deuteronomy is the story of the divine human partnership which, when repeated, helps the believer feel a part of the story. The ancient story begins with instructions about what the believer is supposed to say when he brings an offering to God. “When you come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you … you shall take some of the first of all the fruit of the ground, which you harvest from the land that the Lord your God is giving you and you shall place it in a basket.”

Everything the believer has is a gift from God – the land, the harvest, everything. Since it has all come from God, the commandment is for a gift of the first fruits of the harvest. The “first fruits” is the first ten percent of the harvest. God requires a gift of the first ten percent of the proceeds generated by the partnership. We get to keep ninety percent and God gets ten percent.

The story says, “A wandering Aramean was my ancestor: he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien few in number, and there he became a great nation.” He tells of the suffering in Egypt and how God saved the Chosen People with power and miracles. And then he says, “And now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O Lord, have given me.” After reciting the story, the believer presents his offering and bows to the Lord.

The farmer knows that he is the one who put in the back-breaking work to ensure the harvest, but he is also clear that without God’s participation, he would have nothing. When he tells the story, it is his way of locating himself in the story of salvation. “All of these things happened, Lord, and you saved us by your power and now here am I standing in line with Abraham and Sarah, with Moses and Joshua, and Miriam. You were in partnership with them and I with you. I offer my gift as a way of affirming my place in this great community of faith.”

I want you to leave this worship service today pondering two thoughts. The first is that by faith we participate with God in making miracles happen. The miracle does not happen only because of our efforts, but because when we work faithfully, El Santo Niño, The Holy Son of God, joins us in our labors and completes our work.

The second idea is that when we give to the church, it is different than giving to any other organization. When we give for the work of the Kingdom the biblical story is our story as well, and we stand before God with Abraham and Moses, Sarah and Miriam, Peter, James, and John. We declare to God, “I know your work in creation and in salvation, and through my gift I am standing with you in all that you do.”

Copyright © 2007 by Dwight R. Blackstock

For the Price of Two Copper Coins

Sermon text for October 21, 2007:
Mark 12:38-44

Everyday she walked through the temple, unnoticed and unacknowledged. She was old, poor, homeless and alone. Like a chair or a bench the old woman was just a part of the scenery; she might as well have been invisible.

She lived in the temple along with other invisible old women and made her living from the temple charities. She wasn’t allowed in the inner most parts of the temple where the men went, so she spent her days wandering around the “Court of Women”. It wasn’t a bad life in fact sometimes it was even fun, like the days when the “peacock-like” scribes and Pharisees came to make their offerings. They came into the temple dressed in fine robes that almost screamed, “Hey, look at me! I’m so fine, so rich, so important!” The old woman had to admit they were fine looking and she wished someone would notice her. But nobody ever did. Even if they looked at her they didn’t see her.

Had they taken the time, the scribes and Pharisees would have seen a woman who was deeply faithful, who loved God, and who loved the community. They would have seen a woman who, though impoverished, still found a way to give and thus participate in the miracle of community life.

And that takes us to where our gospel lesson begins. Jesus and his disciples are in the temple and, like the woman, they are watching the “peacock-like” scribes and Pharisees competing with one another to see who is best dressed, most faithful, and most important. They had actually turned giving into a spectator sport – they are trying to out-give one another and climb a little higher on the social ladder.

It must have been a grand sight – the wealthy competing with one another, looking for the approval of their friends. But no one except Jesus saw an invisible, elderly, anonymous woman drop two copper coins into one of the offering plates. By law it was the smallest amount allowed. The two copper coins that she gave that day were worth about a penny. Only Jesus saw what she did. To the money counters, the anonymous gift of two copper coins was worthless.

But Jesus saw a gift of almost incalculable worth. He said to his disciples, “You see that woman?” She has given more than all of them. For they all have given out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has given all the living she has.”

Jesus is amazed at the old woman’s faith and trust. She gave while not knowing where her next meal was coming from. The gifts of the rich were essential because they kept the temple going. The temple could not sustain itself on the gifts of even a thousand elderly women who gave two copper coins. But in God’s wonderful surprising way, this anonymous, invisible woman has become the standard for Christian life and stewardship. We who are wise might call her gift foolish, naïve, or irrational. But Jesus saw a woman who was willing to lay it all on the line and simply trust in God.

So, how about you? Are you willing to make a pledge to the church that forces you to trust God to help you keep it? For many of us that is a frightening thought. Most people make a pledge that is safe and doesn’t require much faith. Most of us figure out how much it costs us to live and then we pledge a portion of what is left over. There is something to be said for feeling safe, but we grow spiritually when we risk and ask God to help us. We grow when our pledge is an amount that forces us into a partnership with God and says, “Lord I trust you to help me do this”. That’s the kind of faith that Jesus saw in the woman in our gospel lesson.

Giving gifts to the church is not primarily to make sure the bills are paid, or a budget met. Gift-giving in the church is about learning to trust in God and participating in the community of faith. It is about joining with God and others in making miracles happen. In our world where everything has a monetary value, gift-giving is a major way of saying to ourselves, “I belong”! When we make a pledge to God, it ought to be challenging enough so that there is some uncertainty about how it will be met. A challenging pledge forces us to rely on God, and helps us to grow spiritually.

Some people rebel against this idea. They desperately want to believe that money and faith have nothing to do with one another. But Jesus teaches that the depth of our faith can be measured by the way we give money away. That’s why the woman in the temple is held up as a role model. Her gift demonstrated an amazing depth of faith.

Several years ago, I served a congregation in South Central Los Angeles. Sadie, at age ninety six, was our oldest member. She always sat in the very back row of the sanctuary and when the offering plate was passed she always put in two quarters.

One week Sadie was not in worship so I paid a call on her to make sure she was all right. Her apartment was in the most dangerous neighborhood in the most dangerous part of Los Angeles. Gang bangers taunted me as I went inside. I remember stepping over an addict sleeping next to Sadie’s door. Inside her apartment, the paint was literally peeling from the walls. Carpets and draperies smelled of mildew. It was hard just to sit there. When I was ready to leave, Sadie got her purse and gave me two quarters to pay up her pledge.

I almost refused to take them. I wanted to say something like, “Sadie, we should be giving to you, not you to us.” But then I realized that Sadie’s gift was her way of participating in the miracle of community life. Her fifty cents came out of what she had to live on, not out of the abundance of what was left over. Because she gave, Sadie went without something, but her faith was strengthened. Her two quarters said, “I belong to God’s people and I participate in what God is doing.”

Now is the time to begin thinking about our gifts to the church for 2008. Maybe, like Sadie, you can only give fifty cents a week – only you know. My prayer is that you will make the kind of pledge that says, “I belong to the family of God, and with this gift I am genuinely participating in the family business.

Copyright © 2007 by Dwight R. Blackstock

You Lack Just One Thing

Sermon text for October 14, 2007:
Mark 10: 17-30

In the Book of Ecclesiastes (3:11) we are told that God has “put eternity into our hearts (mind)” and we are forever restless until we are satisfied that we are on the road to eternity. This need to live into eternity is probably at the heart of most religious longing and it has inspired most of the great human endeavors throughout history. The desire for eternal life is at the center of the gospel lesson for today.

The lesson centers on a rich man, who has everything going for him. So we would expect him to be happy and fulfilled. He is young, wealthy, and devoutly religious. But there is a feeling of emptiness at the center of his soul because something important is missing.

I think that most of us know that feeling. It may be the reason that we have achieved so much in our lifetimes. We’ve created good families, participated in church and enjoyed the respect of our peers, but sometimes when we’re alone, maybe in the dark of night, we have the nagging feeling that we are somehow incomplete. There is something we are supposed to do, but we don’t know what. It’s like having an itch that we can’t scratch and we know that something is not right.

Years ago when I was in my late teens I was in the middle of a religious awakening. It was odd because I was already a faithful Christian, a Sunday School teacher, deacon, and youth leader, but something wasn’t right. I was engaged in a tremendous inner struggle which I defined as having something to do with God. I talked with my pastor, my parents, my friends, but no one could help me.

One night I took the car and drove into the mountains. I parked in an area often used by young couples looking for something different than I was. I looked out over the city lights and I prayed. My prayer was interrupted by a sharp knocking on the driver’s side window. It startled me and I was surprised to see two Los Angeles County Sheriff deputies shining flashlights in my face. They looked in the front seat and then in the back and were surprised when I said I was parked there by myself. They asked me what I was doing there and I told them I was searching for God. They walked away shaking their heads as if I were crazy.

I have never stopped searching for God. I am still trying to find continuity between the way I live and the eternity God implanted in my heart. If pressed, most Christians would say the same thing. The way we search may be different, we might look in different places, but we are involved in a life-long quest. It will only end when God calls us home and invites us into the place that Jesus has prepared just for us.

I think that’s why most of us can identify with the rich man who knelt before Jesus asking, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” His wealth had undoubtedly bought him a good life, but it could not fill his deep-seated need for eternal life. He was smart enough to know that he could not buy it or achieve it, he could only inherit it as a member of God’s family. So the question really has to do with relationships. How can I become a part of God’s family?

Jesus’ answer surprises us. It feels like Jesus got it wrong. We want him to say something like, “Just believe in me, and you will have eternal life.” But instead, he refers the man to the Ten Commandments and says, “Obey these”. But the man counters, saying, “I have kept all of these since my youth.” Apparently he was telling the truth because Jesus does not challenge him. The seeker was deeply religious. The Bible says, “Jesus looked at him loved him”. It doesn’t say that about anyone else. This is a good man whom Jesus loves and with whom he wants a relationship. “You lack just one thing”, Jesus said. “Go and sell all that you own and give the money to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come follow me.” The Bible says, “He was shocked and went away grieving for he had many possessions.”

Christians have felt uncomfortable with this story from the very beginning. Even the disciples were amazed when they heard it. They believed that wealth was a sign of God’s blessing, and if anyone had eternal life, it would be someone like the rich man who knelt before Jesus.

Many of us have a similar belief. We look at all of the material things that we have and believe that they are a blessing from God. A few weeks ago I suggested that perhaps our wealth is not a blessing, but rather a test of our faithfulness. Think about it. What if God gave us wealth just to see what we would do with it? What if the test of wealth is to see if we allow it to become a barrier between us and God? Of course, it doesn’t have to be a barrier. When used for the Kingdom, wealth can inspire us to greater depths of faithfulness. When we think about wealth as a test, our relationship with what we have is likely to change. When tested, the rich man in our gospel lesson walked away from Jesus because what he had was more important than what he might receive.

In some of the parables of Jesus the use of wealth is clearly a test that one either passes or fails. He told the story of a nobleman who entrusted his wealth to servants – that is, he made them stewards – while he went on a journey. One steward invested the money and increased it ten fold. Another invested and increased the money five times. One hid the money away to protect it and made no return. The nobleman praised those who invested his money and made it grow, but cursed the steward who returned only what he was given. In this parable the use of money is clearly a test of faithfulness.

In a few weeks you will be invited to be good stewards of the resources that God has given you. The session will ask you to invest in God’s work that happens here in Lakewood and around the world. Think of the invitation to invest your resources as your own personal test of faithfulness. If the idea makes you angry or defensive, it might mean that like the rich man, you are not ready to move into the eternal life that God has prepared. Or it might mean that you need to give as a spiritual discipline – just because God commands us to give. Think how differently we would feel about the story of the rich man if instead of walking away grieving he had said to Jesus, “That’s the hardest thing I have ever been asked to do. But Jesus, I am yours. I want to follow you.”

Copyright © 2007 by Dwight R. Blackstock

One Bread, One Body - World Communion Sunday

Sermon texts for October 7, 2007:
Ephesians 2:12-16, 4:1-7; John 17:20-25

World Communion Sunday is one of the most special days in the Christian year. It is on this day that we celebrate the essential unity of believers in Christ. On this day, the faithful from every nation and every denomination join in celebrating the Lord’s Supper. The hymn that we will sing to close our worship speaks the sentiment of World Communion Sunday very well. It says, “One bread, one body, one Lord of all, one cup of blessing which we bless. And we, though many, throughout the earth, we are one body in this one Lord.” Today we affirm that beyond all of our differences, we are in reality one body, and one family in the one Lord.

A few years ago when I was visiting Jerusalem I was in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Roman Catholics and the various Orthodox faiths consider this cathedral one of the most holy sites in all of Christendom. They believe that the Church is built over the biblical Golgotha – the site of Jesus’ crucifixion and his tomb. Under one of the altars is a boulder on which they believe the cross was placed and on which Jesus died. Not too far away is a first century tomb in which they believe Jesus was buried.

The cathedral is very ornate and not to the liking of most protestants. Yet I was genuinely touched by the devotion of others. As I wandered around I heard the sound of chanting which grew louder and louder as I listened. It soon became apparent that a worship service was in progress, but it was a service unlike anything I had ever experienced. As I watched and listened I saw a procession of Armenian Orthodox monks processing from one altar to another, chanting and praying. One monk carried a large crucifix and another a Bible, yet another a worship book. Each one was dressed in identical black robes. They wore head coverings that wrapped around their faces partially obscuring their jet black beards.

My first reaction was academic fascination. I have read many orthodox liturgies, but only rarely experienced one. I noticed the strange clothing, the strange language, and the even stranger practice of the leader bowing to kiss the various altars. But almost imperceptibly my detached, academic interest was replaced by an intense desire to join them in the procession and in singing the liturgy. They were no longer an object of dispassionate observation, but brothers in Christ.

We were separated by language, culture, liturgy, geography and more. They expressed their devotion in ways that I could never do, like kissing stones that made up the altars – that thousands of others had kissed or walked on. Yet I found something compelling, I became convinced that worship has its own language and that it speaks directly to the heart, and I felt a kinship with these strange people who also named the name of Jesus.

As I thought about all of our differences, I remembered Paul’s analogy comparing the Church to the human body. Each part, he says, functions in a different way and each is essential for health. And I realized that even as the heart and lungs function differently, and each is essential to the body, so do Presbyterians and Orthodox worship differently, and each of us is essential to the Body.

Paul tells us in Ephesians that there “is one body and one Spirit … one faith, one hope, one baptism, one God and father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in all.”

The different expressions of faith in Christ offer different ways of relating to different people, so all might be touched. At first glance, it appears that Presbyterians and Armenian Orthodox are completely unrelated – not doing the same thing at all. Yet when we are open to one another we discover that in faith we are joined together in one body with Christ as the head.

Sometimes, we forget that the Spirit of Christ binds us together. We threaten, argue, and sometimes we even separate ourselves from the rest of the Body, because we value our differences more than we value the One who calls us together. That is why I rejoice in a day like World Communion Sunday when we celebrate our oneness in Christ. When we recognize our unity in Christ we become the answer to Jesus’ prayer in John 17. In this prayer Jesus prayed that we might all be one as he and God are one. Tomorrow we might remember our differences, but today we celebrate our unity within the family of Christ. Today we gather around the family table and share the family meal. It is around the table of the Lord that our differences fade away, and those things that tear us apart grow dim in the light of Jesus who has knit us together in one body.

There is, indeed, one bread, one body, one Lord of all. Thanks be to God!

Copyright © 2007 by Dwight R. Blackstock