Day three of the Festival began with sunshine. The storms of the night before had cleared and the sky was almost painfully blue and bright. But I made my way to the opening worship with anticipation and hope. Another new venue today. I started at National City Christian Church. I went to hear the pastor of Foundry United Methodist Church, the Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli, preach. She is the first woman senior pastor in that historic church's 200 year history. And she represented us well.
I got to the church early and climbed the massive stairs to the main entrance, only to find it closed.
Those were the stairs, that guy was still sitting there as I climbed. And there was a young woman, in pink running gear getting her steps in, up and down those stone stairs on this bright early morning. But we were locked out. Left waiting for someone to come and open the church. I wasn't that early, maybe 30 minutes or so. But still no open door. Curious. Finally, a few minutes before we were due to start the morning worship, someone opened the door. We few who waited at the top of those stairs were let in. Only to find the sanctuary and other gathering room already occupied. Turns out, few use the front doors of this church, except those like the young woman in pink who use it for exercise. Others come in a lower door and take the elevator to the sanctuary.
I grumbled. As I do. Maybe too much. And here I decided is the time and space for my annual Festival grumble. We clergy don't know how to worship. We just don't. I'm often embarrassed by the antics of "my colleagues" who stumble into worship late and then gawk around at the fancy building, even pulling their phones out to take pictures during the service, and chat with their neighbors about various and sundry, and - and this is the worst - don't just forget to turn off their phones, but will actually take a call during the sermon! I've heard them a couple of times this week. "Hello?," they'll say, somewhat quietly, but still loud enough to be heard by most in the room, as they walk out. Geeze. We're so used to being in charge, some argue, that we have forgotten how to follow. We've forgotten how to be present. Others tell me I'm being overly sensitive, that this is a special thing, a Festival, not their normal behavior for worship surely. Yeah, right, and don't call me Shirley.
I did that rant because of Rev. Gaines-Cirelli. Blame it on her. She based her sermon on Isaiah 30, where the prophet is confronted by those who don't want to hear the truth, who don't want to hear the challenge of the faith. They say, lighten up, preacher. Tell us smooth things. I love that phrase. Verse 10 says, do not prophesy to us what is right; speak to us smooth things, prophesy illusion. We want an illusion, we rarely want truth. We want the easy way, the comfortable way, the way that won't make us have to change much. Well, Ginger told us this morning, stop preaching smooth things! We've all done it, she proclaimed, we've all softened the blow, eased up, not asked for, not expected much. Not told the truth because it would make people mad and they might stop coming, might stop giving. So better pander, better tickle the ear, soothe the troubled waters. Do I dare? Do any of us dare not preaching smooth things? Even when we know the world is dying because of it? Because we've told them what they want to hear, not what they need to hear. Not what the Word of Lord really says. Do we dare?
I'm not sure, frankly. It's hard work. From there I went back to Metropolitan AME church to hear one of my favorite preachers at the festival. Dr. Craig Barnes is now president of Princeton Seminary, but has served various Presbyterian Churches in the East, including in Washington DC. He was ten years in our nations capital and he told us in his afternoon lecture that there were a number of politicians who worshiped in his church, and yes, they sat on the left or on the right as befitted their party affiliation. Seriously?
For worship he chose Mark 9 and the story of casting out the demon after the transfiguration. The one the disciples struggled with. The one that they argued over, disappointed Him over. He had given them authority again and again to help people get rid of their demons, but here they were unable. We're supposed to help people with their demons. It's one of our main jobs, according to Mark's gospel anyway. Preach the Gospel and cast out demons. That's pretty much it. But we can't. We struggle. Partly because we don't believe in demons any more. All people really need is a good therapist. Or a life coach. Just work a little harder, you'll be fine.
You know who still believes in demons? No, not the crazy people who see devils behind every bush. Not the lazy Christians who simply want to find someone else to blame for their own sinfulness. No, the ones who still believe in demons are the folks in AA, and other recovery programs like that. A part of the nature of those efforts is that there is something about which I am powerless to change. Powerless. Many in the world, many of us, are in the grip of things beyond our control Calling them demons doesn't empower them any more than calling them illnesses or addictions diminishes them. Nomenclature doesn't matter. No really. Call it what you will. Evil. Demonic. Powers and Principalities. The System. Empire. We are powerless before it. Powerless. Why can't we cast them out? We've been trying really hard. We've got all these programs, all these efforts. Why Jesus. These kind can only come out through prayer.
See that's the only power we have over evil. The power of prayer. We take them to Jesus. Those under the influence of power beyond their control. It's all we have in the end. Take them to Jesus. Take them, not send them, take them.
We weren't done with demons. Dr Barnes was back after lunch with an analysis of Matthews version of the Temptation story. Here the chief demon was tempting Jesus by, Barnes argues, playing on the anxieties we all have. I fully intend to steal, I mean learn from this lecture for my own sermon series soon, so I don't want to spill all the beans here. Except to say that Craig makes a convincing case. The temptations play on the anxieties we all feel, especially in a world of crazy politics like we have right now. And when we are tempted to ease our anxieties with false securities, false hopes, false methodologies, when we substitute real needs for truth and freedom for security and the comfortable lie that all will be well if we get rid of them (fill in your own them), then we succumb to the wiles of the devil and abandon the cause of Christ. Make no mistake, what He was wrestling with in the desert those 40 days was not just about Him, but about all of us. It was His incarnation that brought about the anxiety, His humanity which was just like ours. Those are our anxieties, our fears, our limitations and our proclivity to settle for less than the Kingdom of God.
Which is what Father Richard Rohr came to tell us in our final session of the day. He too talked about demons. He too pointed out how prevalent they are in our world. Not as imps with pitchforks and magic powers. But as forces beyond our control. Father Rohr reminded us of the classic Catholic moral theology that suggested that evil has three sources - the world, the flesh and the devil. And that we have spent almost all of our time on the middle one. The flesh. We talk about, preach about, hold confession about, the sin of our hearts and our lives and our bodies. Our individual sin. And the result of that is a screwed up notion of what evil really is, he argues. The sin, the evil of the world, is the evil that is tolerated corporately. There are things we accept as a body that we won't accept from individuals. An individual kills and it is evil and sin. A nation kills and it is war and unfortunately necessary. An individual steals and it is evil and sin. A corporation steals and it is how business is done.
On the other end of the scale, the devil, Rohr argues that the demonic is sin that is worshiped. The Old Testament is pretty clear that sin is at heart all idolatry. And yet we seem to be encouraged to worship our nation, worship our family, worship our way of life.
Too big to fail is an act of idolatry, Rohr argues. Clarity is the opposite of truth, often the enemy of truth, says Barnes. Stop preaching smooth things, says Gaines-Cirelli. Frankly, I'm not sure what to do with all of this. Except that it seems true that a casual approach to worship and to prayer is not the solution we need. These kind of demons only come with prayer.
Pray with me. For our church caught in a struggle with demons. For our nation, all to willing to succumb to the easy lure of the demonic. For our world, powerless before that which will consume us all. For us. All of us. Each of us. Me. You. Pray for us. It's the only way out.
Shalom,
Derek
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