Diocesan Standing Committee Publishes Survey Data

On July 1,  the Standing Committee of The Diocese of Milwaukee published the results of survey data collected from congregations across the Diocese in response to the issue of celebrating same-gender relationships in marriage.

In June of 2013, the Rt. Rev. Steven Miller, Bishop of The Diocese of Milwaukee, shared with the church his perspective on same-gender marriage celebrations.  Eventually he turned to his Standing Committee for perspective and guidance.  They, in turn, gathered 500 pages of comments from churches and separately from clergy across the Diocese.

The Committee now has shared their findings with our Bishop and he has promised to respond after a time of prayer and reflection.  The Committee has recommended to the Bishop that he create a local option for the celebration of same-gender relationships.

The complete report of the Standing Committee is available at diomil.org.

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The Power of a Promise           The Rev. Brian E. Backstrand                     July 27, 2014

I’m not going to say much about the on-going reading that we are doing of Genesis, except to point out that you’ve got to watch it when the lights go out. Hopefully we don’t live in that kind of world.

Here is Jacob working for seven years for the hand of Rachel in marriage and at the end he gets Leah.  So he works another seven years for the hand of Rachel and finally gets to marry her.  That’s the overview.  But underneath we see other things at work.   Women here are not a part of the transaction, men are the power-brokers and women are promised property.   Servants—often overlooked and invisible and unnamed—are named in this narrative and point out the roles of many in any society who work invisibly,  like the people who pour the coffee and wait on tables and fill in potholes and pick up garbage. We see eventually two women,  sisters, placed in a difficult situation of being both wives of Jacob.

If there is anything, however, that I would like for us to carry away with us into the rest of this sermon from this story of Jacob and Rachel and Leah and Laban, it is the power of promise.  The power of a promise.  Laban makes a promise to Jacob that he will marry one of his daughters—a tricky promise that makes Jacob work for 14 years instead of 7 but a promise indeed.

Then here comes along our reading from Psalm 105 today and we encounter the power of another promise—this one remembered from generation to generation.   The Psalmist proclaims of YHWH:

                       He has always been mindful

                        Of his covenant, the

                        Promise he made for a

                        Thousand generations:

                         The covenant he made with

                        Abraham, the oath that he

                        Swore to Issac,

                        Which he established as

                        A statute for Jacob, an

                        Everlasting covenant for

                        Israel,

                        Saying, “To you will I give

                        The land of Canaan to be

                        Your allotted inheritance.”

                        Hallelujah!

 The promise of Rachel.  The promise of land.  The promise of generations.

Another promise surfaces in our Gospel reading this morning.  Here we have a series of little images all of which are prefaced by a phrase that contains another promise made by a loving God to faithful people—a phrase from the lips of Jesus.  The phrase that contains another promise and the power of promise is simply this:   The kingdom of heaven is like.

The kingdom of heaven.   Nothing much really,  just the notion of a radical way of living with a purpose—a radical way of being claimed by the Eternal as an invited member of a great family.   Just the notion of living within the boundary of a powerful new dimension of existence, a dimension that comes to us when we stretch a bit,  when we reach out,  when we see things from another point of view,  when we encounter the holy,  when we evaluate what we are up to as individuals—the kingdom of heaven,  God’s kingdom.

And what is it like?  The kingdom of heaven is like

  • A mustard seed (the smallest seed of all) sown in a field
  • Yeast, mixed into flour, that leavens the whole loaf
  • A hidden treasure found in a field that then is purchased by selling all the rest of one’s possessions.
  • A merchant finding one great pearl that is purchased by selling all he has.
  • A net thrown into the sea bulging with fish of every kind.
  • A master of a household that brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.

What is it then?   This kingdom.   Beyond Jacob’s love for Rachel and beyond the promise of land to Abraham and his descendants, here is the power of another promise.

To me it looks like the power of being transformed and renewed.  It has a joy to it.  And it is so small.   Yeast.   Mustard seeds.  One pearl.

Yes,  it starts small, but then it begins to show itself and its power.   The yeast leavens the whole loaf.   And the mustard seed becomes a veritable tree—a place where birds build their nests.

It seems as though Jesus is telling us that  the kingdom of God,  a promised kingdom, is all around us and perhaps we cannot see it.   Not necessarily around us in might but in perhaps a very small presence.   Overlooked perhaps, but waiting with power.   Waiting to transform us when we are  willing to search and look and find.   In at least two images,  the kingdom is found after searching—found with great joy.

And so we have another example of the power of promise.   Here,  the power of a kingdom promised that needs to be searched for,  that needs to be sought out and recognized.   It is a place of vindication,   a place of great joy,  a place of reordered purpose in living,  a place of finding in life what is important.   It is God’s eternal kingdom brought into the context of ordinary living of ordinary days.   The Kingdom of heaven is like….

When promises are remembered and honored and worked for, they become powerful dimensions of life.

***

Betty Jo gave me an assignment a while back in the form of a book, a follow up to Tuesdays with Morrie written by Mitch Albom, an Ophrah Book Club selection entitled Have a Little Faith.    It is a story about Albom’s connections to two men,  one his childhood Rabbi (whom he calls The Reb) and the other a criminal turned Baptist preacher;  one man living in New Jersey and the other in the inner city of Detroit.   Albom goes back and forth in this book,  from the Reb to the Rev and along the way includes some excerpts from some of the Reb’s sermons.  One in particular caught my attention—a story that the Reb had gotten from a military chaplain–and here it is.

A soldier’s little girl, whose father was being moved to a distant post, was sitting at the     airport among her family’s meager belongings.  The girl was sleepy.  She leaned against the packs and duffel bags.  A lady came by and stopped and patted her on the head.  “Poor child,” she said, “You haven’t got a home.”  The child looked up in surprise.   “But we do have a home,” she said, “We just do not have a house to put it in.

This story reminds me of Family Promise and the promise of having a home in the midst of being homeless.  The power of a promise,  a promise grasped and lived out. A promise made and a promise remembered.   A promise grasped.   A promise lived out in terms of one’s own life.  Land,  mustard seed, and now the biggest promise of all.

If God is for us, who is against us.  He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?   …  It is God who justifies, who is to condemn.  It is Christ Jesus who died, yes who was raised, who is at the right hand of God who indeed intercedes for us.  Who will separate us from the love of Christ?  Will hardship or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword. … No in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life nor angels nor rules nor things present nor things to come nor powers nor height nor depth nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This is the big promise.   It is the promise of a Love that will pursue,  defend,  vindicate,  heal,   redeem,   restore,  reorient, claim, renew,  redirect, refuse to quit.  What are we to do with a love like this?     Believe in it surely.    Open our hearts to it.    And live with it in the new world of the biggest promise of all.  It is a promise of a kingdom and the promise of love and the promise of both an existential and eternal home—all three woven together.  Grasping this great promise we can join the little girl at the airport.   On bad days when our vision dims and when things look difficult, we too can say “But we do have a home,  We just do not have a house to put it in.”

The power of a promise:  Nothing will separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

In the name of God:  Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

Posted in Historical Sermons | Comments Off on The Power of a Promise           The Rev. Brian E. Backstrand                     July 27, 2014

GREEN PASTURES & OTHER TOPICS   The Rev. Brian E. Backstrand   July 13, 2014

This morning we are going to begin by reading together yet another scripture,  perhaps the most well-known scripture of all:  Psalm 23.  …   In the King James Version that I grew up with (and every generation has its most formative version), it goes:  The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want./  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures/  He leadeth me beside still waters,/  He restoreth my soul.

         These verses have been said and prayed and remembered in so many settings:  In prison.  At the end of one’s life with family close by.  In hospital rooms.   In quiet moments at home.  In the midst of holocaust.   In moments of celebration.   At church.

And today I am asking us to thinking of especially one of the phrases of this beloved passage:  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.   Green pastures.  What is my green pasture?   What is yours?   Do we see them?   And what are our green pastures here at St Andrew’s?  That is the question that I want to pose for us today?   What are the seeds that the Sower is sowing into our collective soil as a congregation?    What are the green pastures that are being offered to us today, into which we are being led,   pastures green and verdant into which we are shepherded?

Yesterday I went back to a local mechanic shop to retrieve my car after an oil change and when I arrive my car looked like it hadn’t been moved.    It hadn’t.   Instead one of the lifts in the shop failed with a ton and a half truck on it—a truck loaded with tools and compressors caused the lift to fail and it all came down.   The young mechanic underneath managed to roll out at the very end—almost pinned.  He was standing there smoking a cigarette just outside the shop, his life in front of his eyes.   And this led another to tell me the story of a recent close call while hauling 12,000 pounds of hay, the trailer jackknifing and then the whole rig doing a 360 on the side of the hill while the husband, following with the tractor, watched, thinking the worst and then unbelievably the truck did not roll and the driver survived.   This led to talk about the proverbial man upstairs.  And through it all a profound sense of  presence,  protection,  gratitude.  Yea,  though I travel through the valley of the shadow of death/  I will fear no evil,/  Thy rod and thy staff,  they comfort me.

         Sometimes we begin again.   Sometimes we remember a presence surrounding our lives – even in the midst of a harrowing journey.   Sometimes the green pasture is elemental.   The chance again to breathe.  The freedom from catastrophe, where the simplest thing about our lives is a green pasture.

But we were supposed to be speaking of green pastures collectively.  Our green pastures here at St. Andrew’s.  Or,  put it another way,  the places in our collective experience where the supreme Sower has tilled our life together and sown some seeds.   What,  where are our green pastures?

But first,  here comes another cow story.

We carved out some more of our pasture last week and got the electric fence set up on a particularly muggy and buggy day and the herded our group,  nine now with the presence of a bull, into the new pasture.

The cows walked in right away and began walking the perimeter and eating grass and young tree leaves, but the calves were lying down and didn’t have a clue.  This led to herded the calves into the new pasture, but they wound up on the other side of the creek.   This led to a lot of moo-ing – moo/maa action across the creek until finally all but one crossed over then the last one crossed.  Marilee heard the last one coming over.  She couldn’t see it in the brush but said there was a lot of crashing around and splashing….

And so eventual victory.   The next morning I came back and looked to see all of the group in the new stuff, but boy was I wrong.  Nope.   There they were in the old pasture,  thistles and all.  Preferred the old pasture.   You see,  life was easier in the old pasture.    Life was comfortable in the old pasture.    And so I learned.   Sometimes—even though the grass is green—you have to fence them in  in the new pasture.

Why is this true?   Well,  perhaps because cows and humans alike we do not always recognize a good green pasture when we see it.    And also,  perhaps because some green pastures pose some challenges in the midst of offering green grass in which to lie down.   Some green pastures come with different sometimes even difficult terrain.   Rocky places.   Steep slopes.

What are our green pastures here at St Andrew’s?   Do we recognize a good pasture when we see it?   What do we see  collectively and individually…?

One thing that I see that is a green pasture for us comes in terms of vision.   The willingness to look out,  outside, rather than just look within.

This past week I have been thinking of four churches—all of them our size or larger—and all these four churches closed their doors–or are about to.    Some could have easily kept going.    One church needs simply to define its relationship with its pastor on a part-time basis to keep going with its funds for another 5 years.   Or longer.   But here is the point:  All of them have or had one common thread and one outstanding problem.   They all were holy huddles.   Holy huddles of faithful people who never had the courage,  the will to look out.   To look outside their little interior world and form some connection with the community.   The only green pasture they could see was the one inside the church building and that one was drying up.   Put it another way.   When the seeds of the Spirit were sown,  their soil was the one where the seeds were received with joy but soon the weeds sprang up and chocked the good seeds out.  No go.  No vision.    Nothing green and verdant into which to be shepherded outside the doors.

We’ve been there before in our church history.   If our fate were in the hands of some church administrators from other denominations (I am thinking here of Catholic congregations so much larger than we that have been forced to combine with other churches and of Methodist churches of about our size),  we would have been forced to close.   But the Holy Spirit is not through with us.   The Shepherd is still guiding.   Outside these doors there is apparently something yet to do collectively in terms of mission.   And we are being given the great good gift of a green pasture which simply comes in the form of the willingness to look outside.

But here is another green pasture that we have been given.  And the terrain here is a little more difficult.   This is the green pasture of size – the size of our church.   The green and verdant part of this pasture is the fact that we are known here.   We can share life together.   We can listen to one another respectfully when approaching difficult choices or subjects.   We can reach out to the community together in  mission.   We can lift up and encourage and support and challenge each other in terms of being together in fellowship.  Yes.  We are a diverse extended family and when you come here you are known and welcomed and the pasture is green.

But…but the terrain can be a little steep.   Stewardship in terms of time and talent and treasure can be a little difficult.   The priestly provides a part-time presence.   Programs and activities are limited.  When a few people do not come on a given Sunday we see our small numbers.   And so we are challenged—challenged to become stronger not just spiritually,  not just in terms of individual faith or in terms of collective mission, but in terms of numbers.   We are challenged here—in the midst of green pasture—to grow numerically,  to develop intentional strategies to grow numerically,  to pursue a long-term strategy to see us into the future, to walk into the difficult steep terrain of our small size and to claim it as something that the Shepherd is offering us and asking us to be willing to change.

This week we will be submitting our application for aid—funding that will support my ministry among you and our ministry together.   Today we will be going over the form during coffee hour and making final changes before sending it on.   And we know that someday the funding will not be there.   Someday the funding will be reduced.

In our second reading this morning,   St Paul says this:  For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit.  To se the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.   To live in the flesh is to be content to see things from a limited point of view.   To see things selfishly.   To see things cynically.   To restrict the world to just me and my pet projects.  To take no risks.   To live for pleasure or sensation or enjoyment.    And notice that Paul uses the term set the mind on the things of the flesh.    In our culture,  to set the mind on the flesh for me is represented in a bumper sticker that reads the one with the most toys wins. 

But to set the mind on the things of the Spirit.    To see things selflessly.   To see things hopefully and with expectation.   To unpack the world to embrace more than just me and my pet projects.  To take risks.   To live for the other,  the holy,  the Lord and giver of all.   To live beyond oneself—these things are the things of the Spirit.   Outcomes of the Spirit.   Here in our reading this morning from Romans 8 they are described as life and peace.   In other letters they are described more concretely as love,  joy,  peace, kindness,  goodness, faithfulness,  gentleness.    In another place:  compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness and patience. 

How do we develop these things?   Certainly not by ourselves but in the presence of the Spirit,  the counselor and advocate and comforter.   Here is where we set our collective mind:  not on ourselves but on the Spirit.   Put another way,  in the green pasture that we have been given, we can not afford to be content with our numbers nor to merely think in terms of ourselves.    I think that we are being asked to open these doors even wider;  to look beyond ourselves,  and to live in terms of the Holy Spirit who speaks to us here and who leads us still.

The Lord is my Shepherd,  I shall not want.

In the name of God—Father, Son and Holy Spirit.   Amen.

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REBECCA AND OTHER WOMEN              The Rev. Brian E. Backstrand           July 6, 2014

 

Last Sunday we encountered the severe and challenging story of the binding of Issac.  Now we come to a detailed story of a search for a bride,  a tale almost placid by comparison, but filled with interesting detail.  This morning, let us look at it together for a time.  This is the story of the finding of the woman Rebecca who will be the bride of Issac, Sarah and Abraham’s son.  And with this story,  the cycle of stories of the patriarch Abraham and the people of his generation will come to an end.

Sarah has died in her 127th year.   Abraham is described as well advanced in years.   He knows that his own time is coming to an end and he enlists the help of the oldest servant to find a bride for his son.   Abraham is concerned about two things.  First, he wants to make sure that the bride comes from his people,  the H’biru people.  He fears that it will be too easy for Issac to marry one of the people of this new region,  the Canaanites.  To marry someone from his own people necessitates going to Haran,  the place from which Abraham has come.  This is Abraham’s first concern.  His second concern is that Issac not go there himself.   Abraham fears that if Issac goes he will not come back.  If Issac does not come back,  the promise of the land made by YHWH to Abraham and his future generations will not be fulfilled.

It is easy to see that the servant is the most important character in the story even if he is nameless.   Nameless people often carry a big burden in this society.   Here is a man burdened with a huge responsibility of seeking and finding.   He brings ten camels.  He carries gifts.   He travels the long distance to the city of Nahor called Haran.

He prepares,  he travels,  he prays,  he waits,  he discerns from among the women who come in the cool of the evening to draw water.

This Rebeccah whom he encounters is quite a prize.   Not only is she young and pretty but she also must have been very active and strong.   Drawing water for 10 camels from a deep well would be quite a task, since each camel would drink between 10 and 20 gallons of water each day.   That 200 gallons of well water being drawn.   This girl’s in shape!   The servant puts jewelry on her and the servant eventually shares his mission with her brother and others in the woman’s family.   And the young woman who drew all the water and wears the new jewelry does not hesitate but commits herself to traveling back to Abraham’s dwellings in a distant land.  He is unknown to her.   Her future husband Issac is unknown to her as well.   The land and all of its people has not been seen.   But she exhibits courage and strength and faith.   She does not hesitate but joins the servant in the return trip.

What is it like to face challenges in a distant land?    To journey with faith and with perhaps also a sense of adventure?    As they set out,  we can see in the journey of Rebeccah and Abraham’s servant a recapitulation of the initial journey,  the journey that brought Abraham and Sarah and all of their people into this new land.

Here is a woman of faith, traveling by faith to a new land.  At the end she meets Issac in the region of the Negeb out walking in the evening.  Our story ends:  Then Issac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent.  He took Rebecca and she became his wife; and he loved her.  So Issac was comforted after his mother’s death.

This weekend we remember the birth of our nation.  Long before the War for Independence and the decision by the colonists to strike out for independence,  both men and women had taken the long, arduous and sometimes deadly journey to what was described as the New World.  With this weekend celebration in mind,  I am constrained to think of other Rebeccas—other women who faced long odds,  who exhibited strength and courage,  who traveled into strange places on faith.  Some of these were physical with the great vast continent of the New World stretching west.   Others were social,  religious and political strange places.

Anne Bradstreet was born Anne Dudley in Northhampton England in 1612.  Her father managed the estate of a wealthy Puritan landowner.  The girl had access to the estate’s library and she read and wrote under the encouragement of her own father.  At the age of sixteen she married Simon Bradstreet, a Puritan associate of her father’s.  Anne and Simon and Anne’s parents all became involved in the Massachusetts Bay Company and together sailed to North American in 1630 on the Arabella,  the flagship of the Puritan migration led by John Winthrop.

Bradstreet survived the 76 day voyage on stormy seas and the primitive living conditions in the colonies.   She survived the birth of eight children and the frequent absence of her husband, an administrator of the colony.   She survived the devastation of the fire that took their home in the distant town of Andover.  And somehow in the midst of this challenging new life in a distant past she wrote poetry.   The result was the first book published by any one—man or woman—living in the English colonies in North America.   Strength and courage.   Faith in the midst of strange places.   Ann Bradstreet died in the New World in 1672.   Her collected work, although much admired in her own day, was not published until 1867.

We are familiar with the great passion for justice that was the hallmark of the life of Harriet Beecher Stowe, another woman of strength, faith and courage.   We know her for the novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin—a work that ignited the anti-slavery movement when it arrived on the scene in 1851, appearing in fifty-three installments in a magazine called ERA.  Stowe’s writing resulted in a new awareness of the evils of slavery.    Coming from a deeply religious family which also valued education,  Stowe put her talents to work and journeyed with strength and faith and courage into a new land that had never been fully seen—the landscape and the land of the anti-slavery movement.  She did this despite a number of obstacles and challenges.  Harriet had six children,  she raised them in a home without central heat,  electricity or much money.   She fought depression and ill health.    One writer described her life:

Torn between babies to nurse, diapers to change,  overturned chamber pots to clean up after,  untrained servant girls to instruct,  half-written stories to finish,  puddings to make, children to mind, comfort and teach, dishes to wash, and bills to pay, Harriet seems to have led the most fragmented and harried existence imaginable.

 Uncle Tom’s Cabin sold 500,000 copies in 5 years.

What we may not know about Harriet Beecher Stowe was that she came from an American family that influenced American in the 19th century more than any other family.   Her father was Rev Lyman Beecher, a Presbyterian minister known for his evangelism.   The family was large.   The children including especially the girls were well educated.  They founded schools,  participated in the campaign to stop the removal of the Cherokee nation during the Andrew Jackson administration.  One son served as president of a college in Illinois and was active in the abolitionist movement there.

Catherine Esther Beecher was the eldest and was known for founding  a school for women in Hartford Connecticut—a school that eventually expanded to become Hartford Female Seminary.     This is Catherine speaking to us from one of her essays:

It is to mothers and to teachers that the world is to look for the character which is to be enstamped on each succeeding generation, for it is to them that the great business of education is almost exclusively committed. And will it not appear by examination that neither mothers nor teachers have ever been properly educated for their profession?”
— Suggestions Respecting Improvements in Education, 

The list of Rebecca like women in the New World—educating,  writing,  exploring,  advocating—is a long one.   Includes Eva Booth,  the daughter of Willliam Booth, the founding of the Salvation Army in England.  Eva held the first Salvation Army meeting in 1879.

And here are some other names, names of American women who ventured forth as leaders.

Olympia Brown:       The first woman to pastor in a Unitarian church, serving the church in Racine Wisconsin.   Prominent advocate for woman’s suffrage.

Anne Hutchinson:            Advocate for religious liberty

Catherine Spaulding:    First leader and founder of the Sisters of Nazareth in the frontier region of Kentucky.   She founded orphanages and schools as she and others reached out to the poor and the orphaned children in Kentucky.

Elizabeth Anne Seton:     Elizabeth Seton founded the first religious community of women in the United States,  the Sisters of Charity.  Her mother died when she was only three.  She began as an Episcopalian from an ardent Episcopalian family.   She became Roman Catholic later in her life, attracted to the doctrine of the Real Presence.      Her work among the poor in the new nation eventually resulted in sainthood.   Pope Paul VI canonized her on September 14, 1975.  She was the first native-born saint of the United States.

And so we see that Rebecca was not the only woman of faith to take journeys, both physical and otherwise.    On this weekend of our nation’s independence  we are most always mindful of the men of our nation’s past.   Many Biblical accounts mention and focus upon mostly men.   But the lives of people like Rebecca,  Sarah,  Miriam,  and Ruth – not to mention Mary,  Mary Magdalene,  Elizabeth and many others—are also paralleled in our nation’s history by other individuals—women of strength and faith and courage who waded into conflicts and controversies;  who journeyed into strange lands;  who accomplished so much in challenging us to be better as Americans.

Today we mention a few.  Women of faith.   Women who blazed a path for all of us to follow.

Let us take upon us the yoke of Christ and his gentle burden of love.  And let us as persons of faith take our own journeys and follow Him.

In the name of God—Father Son and Holy

Posted in Historical Sermons | Comments Off on REBECCA AND OTHER WOMEN              The Rev. Brian E. Backstrand           July 6, 2014