“Inviting, TRANSFORMING, Sending”
Mark 9.2-9 The Rev. Hal Chorpenning, Plymouth Congregational UCC Fort Collins, Colorado February 11, 2024 When was the last time you saw someone’s appearance change radically? It seems to me that something phenomenal — or at least peculiar — happened on the mountaintop, either to Jesus or to the disciples who were with him. Did Jesus undergo some sort of metamorphosis that caused him to be radiant? to shine like the sun? to have an aura? to beam? Or do you think that he was always radiant, but people didn’t notice until his followers — Peter, James, and John — go up to the mountain and literally see Jesus in a new light. I suspect that all of us have at times observed the change visage of a friend or loved one after they have had a life-changing experience. There are outward manifestations of inner changes in us that our friends and families notice. Assuming for the moment that Jesus did change, why is that important? Does it mean that he was surrounded by the divine light? Did something in his life shift at the moment he began to glow? Does it mean that this was a moment of transformation for him, as was his baptism by John? God speaks at the moment of transfiguration, just ask God speaks at Jesus’ baptism, saying, “This is my son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased,” using exactly the same phrase. Christians are asked to be baptized as Jesus was, but has anyone asked to go through some sort of metamorphosis or transformation? Maybe? When we join Plymouth, we commit to give ourselves unreservedly to God’s service, which is a big deal, but it isn’t quite asking us to be transformed. In many Congregational churches in New England in the 18th c., prospective members needed to have a “visible sign of conversion” in order to be admitted to membership. (Of course, you could attend worship, but being a member was [and is] a big deal.) So, if you were the town ne’er-do-well, a shift in your attitude and habits might be taken as a sign of conversion. In a few weeks, you will hear that thorny line in John’s gospel, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above,”[1] or in the language of the King James Version, “born again.” No, I’m not about invite you to come forward for an altar call, and I’m also not going to dismiss the idea of you having a spiritual transformation or many spiritual transformations. I’m not going to try and tame the idea of your having a metamorphosis. Marcus Borg writes, “The metaphor of rebirth, being born of the Spirit, is an image of radical transformation. An old life has been left behind and a new life has begun…Being born again is utterly central to Christianity, one of the main images for the goal and promise of the Christian life. It describes our transformation and, ultimately, the transformation of the world, for those who are born of the Spirit of God as known in Jesus share God’s passion for a more just and peaceful world.”[2] By a show of hands, how many of us really want to be changed, transformed, pushed out of our comfort zone by the spirit of transformation? It’s not easy, and it’s not without consequences. Transformation means changed hearts and changed lives. What would you expect if you, yourself, saw Jesus in the flesh? Would you expect it to be a transformative experience? Many years ago, I was in a therapy group for Adult Children of Alcoholics in California, and for me it was a transformative experience, and helped me to get a fresh start on my journey, and it marked a new beginning. I know others of you who have gone through the process of recovery, and it can be an incredible transformation. What are the moments of transformation in your life that have turned you in new directions or offered you a fresh start? It doesn’t have to be recovery, it could be the birth of a child, starting a new career, finding a hidden talent or a new avocation. But having a fresh start on life because of a new relationship with God is something incredibly powerful and different. Most of you know Plymouth’s mission statement that says “It is our mission to worship God and help make God’s realm visible in the lives of people, individually and collectively, especially as it is set forth in the life, teachings, death and living presence of Jesus Christ. We do this by inviting, TRANSFORMING, and sending.” That middle element, transformation, can be difficult, don’t you think? …especially if we think that we’re already done transforming into new persons or that we simply have no need to change. The Kingdom or realm of God is about transformation of THIS world into the world as it would be if God were immediately in charge, instead of the forces of Empire. Doing the work of justice is about transformation. Loving the unlovable is about transformation. Moving away from self-interest and radical individualism is about transformation. Giving yourself to something bigger than consumerism and acquisition is about transformation. We cannot try and tame transformation without taming the Kingdom of God. And we won’t be part of the Realm of God unless we are transformed and born of the Spirit. And that requires openness to new beginnings, to change, to transformation of our lives, to letting go of some old burdens, to adopting some fresh practices and ways of being Christian. We are about to enter the 40-day season of Lent, which mirrors Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness; it was a period that was anything but tame: a period of radical transformation for Jesus, even without the radiance he experienced later. Wilderness can be a place for transformation, where we come face-to-face with our truest selves. Perhaps rather than being seen as a period of penitence, we can see Lent as a transformative journey into the wilderness, a time of gestation, of metamorphosis, of new beginnings, of being within the chrysalis — ready to emerge reborn. And it isn’t something we have to do alone…we have companions on our pilgrimage of transformation. I invite you to open yourself as we finish this season of Epiphany and walk together into the season of Lent next Wednesday evening. I invite you to join all of your sisters and brothers at Plymouth on a pilgrimage of transformation as we walk through the wilderness for these 40 days. May you be transformed in the midst of your life, knowing that new beginnings are possible. May you see change as an opportunity instead of a threat. May you be blessed as you uncover new truths about yourself. May you know that you are journeying with kindred spirits through the wilderness. Amen. © 2024 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact hal at plymouthucc.org for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses. [1] John 3.7 (NRSV) [2] Marcus Borg, Speaking Christian. (SF: HarperSanFrancisco, 2011), p. 169.
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“What Kind of Authority?”
Mark 1.21–28 The Rev. Hal Chorpenning Plymouth Cong’l UCC, Fort Collins 28 January 2024 People my age and younger – and some of you older Baby Boomers, too – have a knee-jerk reaction to the word “authority” …and with good reason. Part of that is a result of the liberation movements of the 1960s and 70s: women’s liberation, gay liberation, black power, and the anti-war movement. It was the era of flower children and the counter-culture. And though there are certainly enduring legacies of that era, the people who populated those movements tended to become yuppies who cared more for their brokerage accounts than for free love, preserving the planet, and working for peace. (And please remember that there is still a lot of work to do in a nation where women still earn 82 cents on the dollar compared to their male counterparts in the same jobs.) Some things have changed, to be sure, but we are being forced by the political realities in which we live, to look at what ultimately matters most. Having been sexually harassed by a female superior – in a position of authority – when I worked at Stanford University in my 20s, I can in some ways – though not all – understand what abuse of power and authority looks like. But what about legitimate authority used responsibly? Jesus didn’t have huge rabbinic authority when he went into the synagogue to preach and heal. His sense of authority was not “power to enforce obedience or compliance,” but rather power to influence the beliefs, actions, and lives of people. His hearers afforded him authority because of his abilities, healing, and wisdom. Even though you may think that one of the hallmarks of the Feminist movement is opposing authority in all its forms, some feminist philosophers are beginning to shift that idea. Rebecca Hanrahan and Louise Antony write, “Feminism is an antiauthoritarian movement that has sought to unmask many traditional ‘authorities’ as ungrounded. Given this, it might seem as if feminists are required to abandon the concept of authority altogether. But…the exercise of authority enables us to coordinate our efforts to achieve larger social goods and, hence, should be preserved. Instead, what is needed and what we provide for here is a way to distinguish legitimate authority from objectionable authoritarianism.”[1] And God knows we are hearing a lot of objectionable authoritarianism — if not downright fascism — from certain corners of the American political arena, fueled in part by Christian Nationalism. And still, there needs to be a dialogue between freedom and authority. We need to examine to whom or to what in our own lives we give authority to, what we pledge our allegiance to, and whether that is legitimate or not. And if we find that our prior assumptions about the sources of authority miss the mark, we need to make adjustments. We all afford or give over some of our authority to people or forces in this world, and it is time for some deep re-appraisal. *** Let me pose an ethical question for you to consider: What is the dominant influence in your decision-making? Is it your political persuasion? Your socio-economic class? Your race? Your gender? Your nationality? Your relative affluence? Your sexual orientation? Your economic self-interest? Your role as a parent or child? Your sense of pleasure? … Or is it your faith? Let me come at this from a slightly different angle: In whom do you put your ultimate trust? When push comes to shove, where do you assign your trust…if you can trust anyone? Is it to your doctor? Your stockbroker? Your therapist? Your personal trainer? Your spouse or partner? Your employer? Your president? Your minister? When you are on your deathbed, who do you want to be there with you…God or Jerome Powell? Let me ask the question yet a third way: Whom do you serve? Is it your CitiCard balance? Your kids’ activities and chauffeuring them around town? Your student loan debt? Your employer? Your spouse or partner? Your family? Yourself? Your God? All of these questions point toward the A-word…authority. Who or what is authoritative in your life? And I know a lot of us could quip, “It’s the economy, stupid.” But there is nothing in this or any economy that is going to help you lead a truly good life and keep you from death and lead you into life beyond death. If we don’t give authority to God, then we give it to the range of petty deities of our culture. The anti-institutional thrust of the 1960s and 70s taught us to trust no one, especially if they were “over 30” or in a position of authority, and so we find our nation in a state of radical individualism, caring little for the common good or the larger consequences, but I think that’s beginning to change. The pendulum, at least for some of us, has begun to swing in the direction of collective responsibility. “What is this? A new teaching – with authority!” You and I have a lot of advantages in considering the questions I’ve posed. We are part of a 400-year-old religious tradition that has diminished the human authority of bishops and popes and kings and put the authority back where it belongs: with God. It isn’t that Marta and I don’t have pastoral authority, we do, and you’ve entrusted that authority to us, never to be abused. But we firmly believe that we are not gatekeepers that come between you and God. (We can, however, coach you from the sidelines.) You have direct access to the source of ultimate authority. One of the great Christian ethicists of the 20th century, H. Richard Niebuhr, who wrote, “To make our decisions in faith … is to make them in view of the fact that the world of culture – human achievement – exists within the world of grace – God’s kingdom.”[2] That bears repeating: “To make our decisions in faith … is to make them in view of the fact that the world of culture – human achievement – exists within the world of grace – God’s kingdom.” So, if Niebuhr is correct, everything we do, think, say, act, feel, own, profess, is done within the context of God’s reign. And God’s kingdom is an anti-imperial reign in which the first shall be last and the last shall be first, where faith the size of a mustard seed will grow to an enormous size, where the rich “shall be sent empty away” because they have had their consolation. *** Now, this may scare a few people away from a new members class, but our membership covenant contains these words: “I give myself unreservedly to God’s service.” How many of you have entered that covenant as members? So, when each of us who are members of this particular congregation entered the covenant, we made a solemn vow to place ourselves under the authority of God – with nothing held back. So, how are you doing with that commitment? None of us does it perfectly! God is ultimately in charge, whether we acknowledge it or not. And when we covenant to give ourselves unreserved to God’s service, we are saying explicitly whose authority we are under. We find ourselves at the beginning of an election year, as well as in a time of national political crisis, exacerbated by the “gift” of social media and the 24-hour news cycle. And it is precisely at such a time as this, that it is good to have a sense of clarity that we are God’s people, and nothing can separate us from the love of God. So, here is where the profound dialogue between authority and liberation meet: When we give ourselves fully to God (and only a small handful of human beings I know of have ever done that completely) we free ourselves from every other master: powers and princes and presidents, success, wealth, fame, longevity…and even student loan debt. Aren’t you ready for that kind of liberation? When we share in Holy Communion, we feast at God’s table. And in a very tangible way, we acknowledge that we are utterly dependent upon God for everything that keeps us alive – body and soul. So, every time we celebrate communion…every time you come forward and receive the elements of bread and wine, I invite you to think carefully about whom you serve, and what ultimate authority you recognize in your life. May we be grounded in grace and in God’s service. Amen. © 2024 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact hal@plymouthucc.org for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses. [1] Rebecca Hanrahan, Louise Antony, “Because I Said So: Toward a Feminist Theory of Authority” in Hypatia: A Journal of Feminist Philosophy 2005 20:4, 59-79 [2] H. Richard Niebuhr, Christ and Culture, p. 256.
“Midwinter Metanoia”
Mark 1.1-8 The Rev. Hal Chorpenning, Plymouth Congregational UCC Fort Collins, Colorado 10 December 2023 Every year on the second Sunday of Advent, we get a special guest appearance in the Lectionary from John the Baptizer, he who survived by eating locusts and wild honey and wore rough clothing made of camel hair. We tend to think of John as an offbeat character, and that’s probably about right. One of the things I noticed in studying images of John is that he seems so much more human than most of the other subjects. He has the look of world-weariness about him. Perhaps that happens when you find yourself in the wilderness shouting, “Repent! For the Kingdom of God has come near.” In the Gospel According to Matthew, and he adds insult to injury, calling the Sadducees and Pharisees a “brood of vipers,” a nest of poisonous reptilian offspring. Not generally a good way to win friends and influence people. Most of us probably don’t think of Advent as a penitential season, when we stop and enumerate our sins and make a plan to change course. But on this second Sunday of Advent, that is what John the Baptizer calls us to do. However, that language takes some serious unpacking, because for many of us the language of sin and repentance sounds more televangelist than we’re used to. And what’s more, it has caused injury to people who are not able to believe that God’s goodness lies within them. Still, it is important for 21st century liberal Christians not to dismiss traditional language out of hand; if we do that, we lose some of the richness and depth of our faith tradition and the wisdom it holds. Instead, we need to re-examine and redefine some of the language. Let’s start with sin. You may think of sin as wrongdoing, and sometimes it is. For the great 20th century theologian, Paul Tillich, sin is more about estrangement and separation. Adam and Eve become estranged from God, living east of Eden. We are living as exiles, cut off from our true home. And our true home is God. Marcus Borg writes, “Our estrangement can become hardened by how we live; we indulge our self-centeredness…. Estrangement, the birth of the separated self, is the natural result of growing up; it cannot be avoided. For the same reason, we develop closed hearts, a shell around the self. There is a sense in which we are blinded by the imprinting of culture on our psyches and perception.”[1] It happens to all of us. Let’s look at an Advent example of someone who has been “hardened by how he lives” and who “indulges in self-centeredness,” but who has a profound change of heart. [“How the Grinch Stole Christmas” clip.] Maybe you never thought about John the Baptizer when you watched “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” but it is as if there, on the crest of Mount Crumpet, the Grinch sees his estrangement from the Whos down in Whoville, and his hardened heart breaks open and grow three times its size. You never heard the word “repent” in the clip, but what you saw was a beautiful example of what repentance really means. “The biblical meaning of ‘repent’ is not primarily contrition, but resolve. In the Hebrew Bible, to repent means primarily to return to God. Its metaphorical home is the exile. To repent means to return from exile, to reconnect with God, to walk the way in the wilderness that leads from Babylon to God.”[2] As the Grinch returns to find community and love and meaning with the Whos down in Whoville, it is a homecoming that I’d imagine makes God smile. Repent is a scary word, especially because we usually think of it coming from the mouth of a fiery evangelist like Elmer Gantry, and it sure seems holier-than-thou in our context. But in biblical Greek, it’s actually a lovely, beautiful word that has a surplus of meaning. The word metanoia has two roots that connote going beyond the mind you currently have. And I would add that for me it means going beyond the mind and the HEART you currently have. Go beyond the mind and heart that have been shaped by self-interest. Go beyond the mind and heart that have been molded by American consumerism and greed. Go beyond and embrace the heart and mind of Jesus’ compassion and subversive wisdom. When John the Baptizer offers a “baptism of metanoia,” he is inviting people into the embodied process of transformed lives, going beyond the things that keep them in exile or in bondage. You know what that looks like…it isn’t easy. It certainly wasn’t for Ebenezer Scrooge! [Clip from “A Christmas Carol.”] I didn’t show you the visitations of the three spirits, because metanoia can be scary if you really embrace it. But you can use your memory to imagine the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and yet to come. What would those spirits show you from your past, present, and future? Charles Dickens described Scrooge as a “miserable old sinner,” and that isn’t what you saw in Patrick Stewart’s portrayal of the miser after his moment of metanoia. Scrooge has been separated not just from his family and the Cratchits, he has cut himself off from the whole human family and from God. But it isn’t too late for him, is it? Metanoia is a real possibility for each of us in our alienation and exile. Perhaps Advent is more preparing the way and tending to the rebirth of the spirit of Christ within each of us and in our church, rather than waiting for the birth of Jesus 2,000 years ago, or for the second coming. Who knows what new life may spring up afresh within any of us? And maybe the people sitting around you will be the midwives who encourage and help you in that rebirth. Where in your life are you feeling perhaps a bit estranged, cut off, or bound up? Simply acknowledging those pieces of your current mindset is the first step in rebirth or finding your way back home from exile. God is waiting for each of us to accept the invitation to renewal, rebirth, transformation, and wholeness. In our full humanity and our imperfection, God bids us come toward the light of the world and to midwinter metanoia. May it be so. Amen. © 2023 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact hal@plymouthucc.org for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses. [1] Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity. (SF: HarperSanFrancisco, 2003), p. 168. [2] Ibid., p. 180. |
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