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Sunday’s Sermon – Homeroom Lessons: Watch Your Words – Ephesians 4:25-5:2

August 12, 2018 Leave a Comment

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!”

Do you remember learning this rhyme on the playground, perhaps being taught it as a response to name-calling? It’s an old rhyme, with one of the earliest citations of it found in a March of 1862 issue of The Christian Recorder, a periodical published by the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church. The article insisted that:

true courage consists in doing what is right despite the jeers and sneers of our companions[i].

It referenced the popular rhyme as an old adage, one that had been around for a while and had stood the test of time, likely due to its sage wisdom as well as recurring need to hear it. For as much as we nod along and repeat it, we know it to be a truth that pushes against our reality; namely, words can hurt – deeply. And this is true whether they are intended as weapons, spoken without much thought at all, or even voiced in honesty.

Our text for this morning from the letter to the Ephesians zeroes in on the importance of words and speech we use within the Christian community. The premise is relatively simple and straightforward; we are to speak truthfully to one another. Authenticity in speech is what binds the community together. Without it, we will certainly fail. But with it comes a risk, which quickly follows in verse 26. The truth is sometimes going to be messy. It gets intertwined with anger and bickering, gossip and bitterness, and all sorts of other things. Sound about right? The classic example of this, of course is that no-win question “does this dress make me look fat?” But more than just the need for carefully worded answers, words matter to us because alongside the belief that we are to be honest with each other, we are conditioned with being “nice” – almost to a fault. At times, the two seem at odds. In the South, we couch this by adding phrases like “bless her heart.”

In her book, Waking Up White, Debby Irving identifies this as one of the reasons having conversations about race is so difficult. She reflects on the ways in which her upbringing in New England taught her to sweep things under the rug and avoid many topics, particularly racial or controversial ones, because they were things “we just don’t talk about.” Avoidance becomes a marker of success. And somewhere in the midst of that, the ability to speak truth at times gets pushed to the back, because it would most certainly result in feelings of judgment or anger. Irving notes that:

The culture of niceness provides a tidy cover, creating a social norm that says conflict is bad, discomfort should be avoided, and those who create them mark themselves as people who lack the kind of emotional restraint necessary to hold positions of power. Another vicious cycle[ii].

This means that important conversations got ignored, and those without power are silenced. It’s one manifestation of injustice, and it moves us farther away from the instructions to the Ephesians.

So how do we get out of such a cycle, and into the framework where we instead “speak the truth”? In 1992, MTV debuted a show with the following tagline:
Seven strangers picked to live in a house . . . and have their lives taped . . . to find out what happens . . . when people stop being polite . . . and start getting real.

The Real World ran for 32 seasons (!), and essentially was a study in what it meant to be in community together. These strangers, as they got to know each other and built relationships, soon realized that they didn’t all agree on, well, practically anything sometimes. And yet, they were forced together in this microcosm environment where they had to figure it out. Drama and conflict made for compelling television and somewhat manipulated storylines. To be sure, it was often pretty ugly.

I think, though, there’s room for a bit of a parallel with the church and this passage from Ephesians. We have been picked to live in this “house,” the church – called by Christ (remember, the first three chapters of Ephesians captures this gift of grace in a nutshell), and now are called to make something of it. Eventually, the “nice” is going to wear out. No doubt the early church felt that, with mounting pressures and persecutions. And the writer of Ephesians, likely a contemporary or student of Paul’s, is writing about what happens when things start to get real.

Now, hear me out on this – I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to be respectful and polite. Watching our words absolutely means paying attention to how we phrase things to one another, including an awareness that not all words or terms are appropriate. This is critical if we want to advance conversation and truly get to the heart of what matters to us. But sometimes, we get lazy about our words and simply choose to stay quiet, which can get in the way of our truth telling, and serves simply to avoid conflict. And when we do that, I think we fall short of the kind of community that Ephesians references, because we miss the opportunity to address the truths that we are called as children of God, to speak to our neighbors. Debby Irving continues:

Ignoring feelings and trying to smooth them over with pleasant chitchat only promises to hold people back from allowing their hearts to join their minds in recognizing injustice when it’s right in front of them, or even inside them[iii].

When we start to bottle these things up, they can lead to resentments between us and tension in our relationships. This happens between friends and spouses, within groups and communities, and even on a bigger scale in our society. In fact, I would offer that it’s been happening for quite some time now in our country. It is an understatement to say we live in divisive times, where tensions are high. Words are cutting like swords. Name-calling is rampant. In fact, sometimes that’s as far as it gets before things escalate. Instead of speaking truth to one another, many are simply content to throw out labels and slogans that separate us from our neighbors, even when we know those stereotypes are a lie. Because they are, right? That’s the entire nature of stereotypes – they’re oversimplified images or ideas about a person or thing; the do not tell the whole story, the whole truth about any individual. Consider that for a moment. Words like “conservative” or “Republican” or “liberal” or “Democrat” do not define any one person or even one group. Why, then, are we letting those take such a hold on us? What would it look like for us, as the church, to speak the truth to our neighbors about these divisions? Or even to speak the truth to ourselves about them and the ways in which they are coloring how we see one another? We might just stumble back into Ephesians, with the reminder that “we are members of one another” (verse 25). As such, we are called to do more than throw out labels in anger. That makes room for evil to work. Instead, we are called to a different way of being.

Ephesians acknowledges that speaking the truth will lead to anger and conflict, but it does not leave us there. Instead, it gives us some practical advice for how to make it through it. Verse 29 tells us “let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.” At first, this might remind us of the advice from the classic Disney movie, Bambi, where the rabbit Thumper recounts advice from his mother, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.” But considering this in the context of a passage about speaking the truth, we can’t be satisfied with mere silence and avoidance; that’s how we end up in the “culture of niceness,” that gets us nowhere. Instead, we might take a step back, and consider that our words matter, and find a way to offer constructive criticism to one another in love.

One of my seminary courses was on group dynamics, and my professor, much to our chagrin, harped on a concept known as “The Awareness Wheel,” forcing us to use its cycle with almost every comment we made in class. It is especially helpful in conflict, because it focuses on sensory data and “I” statements that remain focused on the core issue. It goes something like this:

  • State your observation “I sense” -or “When I see/hear”
  • Reflect on your thoughts, “I think . . .”
  • Name your feelings, “and I feel. . .”, identifying the core emotion at play.
  • Identify what you want to happen, “I want,” and finally
  • Make a commitment to what you might do to achieve that purpose, “I will. . .”

Truthfully, most of us absolutely hated the Awareness Wheel. It even became a running joke to work into lunchroom conversations. Equally as truthful? It’s totally helpful in conversation particularly when things are tense. It’s a tool I use with couples preparing for marriage and groups in conflict. And when I’m at my best communicating, I employ it in my own life. It’s also helpful in navigating toddler tantrums when you need to keep your sanity. But most of all, I think it points to the kind of grace-filled speech that Ephesians is getting at. This passage reminds us that it’s not about avoiding the tough conversations; it’s about engaging in them faithfully and well, so that we are working towards reconciliation and building each other up.

In school, we might have been told to “watch your words.” This is more than just a reminder not to curse or say hate-filled theme. It’s a call to speak with intention. To put aside the things that are laced with anger and bitterness and spitefulness and instead seek kindness, which I would argue is distinct from the niceness we talked about earlier. As one friend put it, “kindness is telling a friend, or even stranger, who is leaving the restroom that her dress is tucked into her underwear; niceness is not saying anything because you don’t want to embarrass her.”

Kindness is not ignoring the difficulty of conflict and disagreement; kindness is being willing to work through it together. That leads us to an openness to forgiveness, made possible not because we possess superhero type powers of forgetfulness, but because we live in an awareness of the gift of grace that comes in remembering that God has forgiven us through Jesus Christ. This is what gives us the confidence and competence to attempt to forgive each other, and is what can become the work of reconciliation. God who has made us members of one another in Christ, seeks that we follow in his footsteps, that we might become imitators of our Savior himself, and live in the love he first showed to us. It always starts and ends with God. In between are the words we say to one another. May we be attentive to them, take on the bold task of truth-telling and hard conversations with each other, and find ourselves living in love as Christ’s community is built up even now. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
August 12, 2018

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[i] https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/sticks-and-stones-may-break-my-bones.html
[ii] Debby Irving, Waking Up White and Finding Myself in the Story of Race, (Cambridge, MA: Elephant Room Press, 2014).
[iii] Debby Irving

Filed Under: Church blog Tagged With: Christian, communication, community, ephesians, homeroomlessons, honesty, kind, kindness, nice, racism, sermon, speaktruth, speech, words

Sunday’s Sermon – Tough Conversations – Matthew 15:10-28

August 20, 2017 Leave a Comment

“We need to talk.” These four words are a call to attention and have the potential to immediately strike fear in the ears of the listener. Rarely do they mean something positive. “We need to talk” is not often followed by “I love your new haircut” or “I want to give you good news.” Instead, “We need to talk” is followed by the delivering of difficult news: it is the classic introduction to a break-up conversation, a revelation that you have been caught red-handed for some transgression, an indicator that you have done something that is out of bounds, or bad news is going to be delivered. It indicates that something big is happening and a tough conversation is coming.

“We need to talk” should be the header of the second half of today’s text in our Bibles. A woman presents with an urgent plea, shouting for Jesus to help her daughter, and what follows is perhaps one of the toughest conversations recorded in our gospels. And it almost doesn’t happen. The response from Jesus and the disciples initially is silence, ignoring her cries. And when Jesus does respond? It isn’t pretty. In fact, it almost doesn’t sound like Jesus at all. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” It is at best a brush-off, a sending away of this woman who does not merit his time or attention. Such a statement is counter to our most basic understanding of Jesus. Where is the Jesus who says “let the little children come to me” and who seemed to pause at every bend in the road to speak to people, much to the disciples’ dismay. Where is the Jesus who stops when a woman who is bleeding touches the hem of his coat, taking time to respond to her needs and offer healing? The one who doesn’t send the crowds away, but instead tells the disciples to give them something to eat? I would like that Jesus, please. Because what we have seems far from it. Then, he makes it worse, not just insinuating, but flat out calling the woman a “little doggie,” a diminutive, derogative term, not worthy of what is given to the privileged children (to be read as the people of Israel) at the table. This is not the Jesus we put on Sunday School classroom walls. In fact, it’s a presentation of Jesus that will get under our skin and make us frustrated and exasperated. It seems callous, mean, and coldhearted. These are not usually words we put with our Lord and Savior.

Perhaps we can find out what is going on by turning our attention to the woman, who isn’t given name, but is described by her ethnic identity. In the version of this story that we find in Mark’s gospel, she is labeled as a gentile, specifically a Syrophoenician (see Mark 7:24-30), identifying her as an outsider. But Matthew’s gospel takes it one step further, identifying her differently, with the label of Canaanite. Such a marker is significant, and would have been especially so to those in the 1st century. You see, it is a biblical reference. There were no Canaanites living in the first century, so:

The label evokes historical conflicts and thus defines the woman in terms of age-old prejudices a first-century Jewish audience would understand[i].

Such tension was inherent to the cultural context of the day, and it reveals a very sobering mirror to those listening, including us. We like to think of Jesus as above all of this, but here we see him at his most fully human. And in this picture of Jesus, we might see ourselves and our own prejudices revealed. We certainly feel the tension that comes in difficult conversations with those with whom we would prefer not to associate.

The writer of the gospel of Matthew places this encounter in a strategic place in the gospel that sets the stage for the woman to enter. After all, Jesus has just finished telling the scribes and Pharisees that it isn’t a strict adherence to purity laws or dietary regulations that makes one part of the covenant; it is the interplay between what is in the heart and the words that come from it. The Canaanite woman’s plea becomes an illustration of this instruction, without losing the inherent tension. It isn’t meant to be an easy application. It is supposed to catch the readers off guard and ruffle their feathers. As pastor Michael Lindvall notes:

Matthew doubtless framed the story he had borrowed from Mark in a way that would help his readers grapple with the tension between those members of his community who understood the gospel of Jesus to be the way for Jews to be faithful Jews and those members who believed that the gospel was intended by God for the whole world. That Jesus effectively articulates both perspectives in this passage served to name the tension and to recognize the truth inherent in both viewpoints[ii].

The struggle in this story, then, is necessary for it to be powerful, because it sets the stage for a new narrative to happen that changes understandings, for both Jesus and the disciples, and the listeners to the good news.

The woman persists. When things are difficult, when disparaging remarks are made, when attempts are there to silence her voice, when the harsh realities of the world are spoken in plain language, the woman does not shy away from the tough conversations that need to happen next. She addresses her need once again, engaging in a sharp and provocative response to Jesus that pushes against all that stands between her and the grace and mercy she seeks. She kneels at his feet and speaks again. Even the dogs get the crumbs. These words, spoken truth to power, along with her faith, enact real and meaningful change. Now we see the Jesus we have come to expect: “Great is your faith!” and healing for her daughter seal the moment.

Lewis Galloway offers that this story “wakes us up from our biblical slumbers” and puts us outside of our comfort zones. He argues that we need to see the Canaanite woman not as an annoyance, but as what he calls a “divine disruption” meant to teach us something. He maintains that:

Disciples of Jesus learn and grow when they brush up against people whose lives, needs, dreams, and struggles are different from their own. The effect of such a relationship is like the effect of sandpaper on a piece of rough wood. It smoothes out the undisciplined edges of life and makes his followers serviceable for some new purpose[iii].

For the first century believers, this story reveals a very rough spot in their understanding of what it mean to live as disciples of Jesus Christ, particularly in contemplating who could or could not be a part of the salvation offered by the Messiah. And Matthew gives them a tough conversation to help illustrate his point and open them to new possibilities. The totality of these verses would have been sandpaper to those who heard it, and it should be the same for us today.

Brothers and sisters, we need to talk. There are countless things happening and going on in the world that prompt us to have conversation with one another. But more often than not, we are silent or dismissive of those things that disrupt our lives and beckon our attention. The issues that have been raised in the wake of what happened in Charlottesville last weekend are not new. They are simply the most recent instance or example. Almost two and a half years ago I was serving a church in Baltimore and watched the news stunned with scenes that were only a few miles from our house. These tensions weren’t new either. Baltimore is a city with a long history of racial tension and struggle that still has implications on a daily basis for its residents. Many tough conversations had already been happening, but these events sparked an opportunity for more people to become a part of sustained conversation about what had brought the area to this breaking point, and what could be done about it going forward. If the news cycles are going to constantly be disrupted by tragedies from the same sin of racism and the same challenges it presents in our country, we need to be less dismissive of them and instead listen for what God might be trying to tell us. Maybe we can embark on these tough conversations before it becomes another headline.

I learned this week about a man who has, for over thirty years, made tough conversations his mission. Daryl Davis[iv] is an accomplished rock musician, with a resume that includes playing piano with the legendary Chuck Barry. But beyond the stage, he engages in tough conversations. Namely, as an African-American man, he has made it an objective in his life to have conversations with and befriend members of the Klu Klux Klan. He has been featured on many newscasts and last year was the focus of a documentary about this work titled “Accidental Courtesy: Daryl Davis, Race, and America[v],” which you can find on Netflix, among other places:

His story is fascinating, as he reveals that his guiding question is and has always been simple: “How can you hate me when you don’t know me?” He models a very different way of engaging issues of racism around the country, which has led to several dozen KKK members leaving the clan, and leaving him with their hoods and robes. He seeks to enact change by establishing dialogue, saying “when two enemies are talking, they’re not fighting.” His work is provocative, and not without controversy or criticism. It has certainly given me a lot to think about, along with many “sandpaper moments.”  But, there is one thing about which there is no question; Daryl Davis is willing to have some tough conversations.

Friends, it does not take much for us to be put in positions where we might have some tough conversations. Look around you in this space. We are, by my accounts, what you would call a “purple church.” The political and ideological positions of those who sit in our pews cover virtually the entire spectrum. And that makes it hard, particularly when tensions escalate around us and even within us. Frankly, it’s easier when those around you share your viewpoints. But writer Diana Butler Bass notes that there is great potential for congregations like us. She notes that:

Purple is more than a blend of red and blue, a right-left political hybrid with no color of its own. Purple is an ancient Christian symbol. . . . Christian purple – the color of repentance and humility – represents the kingdom birthed in the martyred church, unified around a crucified savior, and formed by the spiritual authority of being baptized in a community of forgiveness. . . . For Christians, purple is more than a blending of political extremes, a mushy middle. Purple is about power that comes through loving service, laying down one’s life for others, and following Jesus’ path[vi].

Purple, it seems, might have something to do with the vision set forth by the Psalmist in Psalm 133, “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!” It is a psalm that expresses the deep longing and hope for reunification of the Northern and Southern kingdoms. It’s something that hasn’t yet happened, but is yearned for with all of the psalmist’s being. And I believe it is something we yearn for as well. The only way we can possibly get there is to actually talk to each other about it. Even if that is tough.

Tough conversations take many forms. In the case of Daryl Davis, it comes in the way of establishing friendships and simply listening. That’s a great place to begin. In fact, you don’t even necessarily have to talk about those “hot button” issues with each other at first. Just get to know each other’s story. Then, as the friendship develops, you can delve into those deeper waters. In the case of the Canaanite woman, tough conversations come by stripping away pretense and naming difficult realities that push boundaries and place the woman at risk. It’s the proverbial “speaking truth to power,” and is a type of honest engagement that has the ability to bring about lasting change. Both are different methods, but both faithful ways of embodying a faith that allows us to be fully present with each other. Our work right now is not in the easy. It’s in the difficult, heartbreaking, soul-searching, seemingly impossible work of having tough conversations with each other.

Today’s text reminds us that we are called to engage in the tensions and difficult conversations of our time. As people of faith, I would encourage us to try to make these tough conversations ones that are theological. The issues we wrestle with in the world, particularly those of equality and justice, need the theology and love of Jesus Christ infused into them. That’s the model of the Canaanite woman and Jesus. The woman evokes theological terms like “Lord” and “Son of David.” The tough conversation she brings wasn’t just a hot-button issue; it was a crisis of theology. Her begging wasn’t just to have her daughter healed; her begging was a persistent insistence on being included in the love and grace and mercy offered by Jesus Christ. That must be the root of all of our approaches as well.

The work of faith is hard. Tough conversations are all around us. May we not be silent.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

August 20, 2017

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[i] Marilyn Salmon, “Commentary on Matthew 15:[10-20] 21-28,” The Working Preacher, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=125, accessed 8/17/17

[ii] Michael L. Lindvall, “Theological Perspective: Matthew 15:21-28,” Feasting on the Gospels, Matthew, Volume 2, Chapters 14-28, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

[iii] Lewis F. Galloway, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 15:21-28,” Feasting on the Gospels, Matthew, Volume 2, Chapters 14-28, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

[iv] http://www.daryldavis.com/#

[v] http://accidentalcourtesy.com/

[vi] Diana Butler Bass, “Not Red, Not Blue…Purple Churches http://www.beliefnet.com/columnists/godspolitics/2006/11/diana-butler-bass-not-red-not.html#t3xkWVFOMuoMdpGe.99, accessed 8/17/17.

Filed Under: Church blog Tagged With: charlottesville, discipleship, disruption, peace, racism, sermon

Food Pantry

Food distribution is scheduled the 1st Saturday of the month at 10:00 am and the 3rd Wednesday of the month at 12:30 pm.

The next Drive-Up Food Pantry is scheduled for Saturday, July 5 at 10:00 am     am.  Accurate pre-registration is strongly encouraged to ensure volunteers pack accordingly.
Please sign- up here!

For other pantry locations, go here
or text “FINDFOOD” 
to 888-976-2232

Church News

Volunteers are welcome to help pack food boxes on Monday, June 30th at 10 am and Monday, July 14th at 10 am in the Fellowship Hall. 

Food Pantry distribution volunteer opportunity Saturday, July 5 registration here!


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