Text: Luke 8:1-15 

Part 1: Ode to a Seed

For ears that hear: an ode to a seed
That source of life, the Word decreed
You are the forest we have yet to perceive

Precious potential pulsating past our preconceived approximations
Our laughable expectations,
machinations of imaginations
That have never pondered the cathedrals in
hulls
Broken open
Husks that spill oceans
Shells whose birth pangs form choruses
Of bangs, both little and big
Maybe the universe is expanding because something static could never contain
The abundance of the Sower.
Exploding, expanding, abounding

Abounding
Overflowingly resounding,
Bountifully compounding
Uncontainably astounding
Extravagantly confounding
Prodigal sounding
Abounding

Ode to the seed,
That bastion of abounding
Teaching us how to let go and trust the cosmos abiding inside
Instructing us in the arts of abundance
Showing us what it means to get dirt under our nails
As we claw our way upward to that life that is too tightly bound
Like four year old hands that scream “don’t let go” AND
“I’m ready to fly”
Uncontainable, uncontrollable, abounding

Ode to the seed
Bearer of fruit, the seed reborn
A yield without measure, the Sower adorns-
Rocky landscapes and highways and ditches with thorns,
Unconcerned that the methods would garner quick scorn-
From those who know better, from scoffers who warn-
About wasting the effort; their methods they’ve sworn-
Will give greater yield.  It’s these the Sower mourns.

It’s these who know not the way of abundance
It’s these who have trapped themselves inside words like safe, careful, worthy, control
It’s these who concern themselves more with pointing fingers at strange soil than celebrating the fruit bursting forth all around them.
It’s these who forget that abundance is both the means and the end

An ode to a seed
But not just the seed that lands in good soil.
Ode to the seeds on the path, in the rocks, among thorns.
Your worth not diminished by fingers that point
And say “what a waste.”

Ode to the seeds who make a way out of no way.

Ode to the vines who refuse to accept a place…

Text: Luke 8:16-25

It’s the time of year for church conferences.  This Thursday we’ll begin hosting the Central District annual gathering.  If this were an odd numbered year, we’d also be preparing for the national Mennonite Church USA Convention, which is usually over the fourth of July and often in a southern state.  Having Conventions in July in the South is one of the ways frugal Mennonites save money.  Next summer we’ll be in Florida, in Orlando.  The venue of course was decided some time ago, and up until last week the main association in our house with Orlando was whether the girls would get to go to Harry Potter world.

For the last week, Orlando has become synonymous with death and trauma.  There was unimaginable horror inside the Pulse nightclub directed against queer and trans Latinx folks.  Yesterday’s Pride Parade in Columbus was both a sobering and celebratative time for LGBT folks and allies to gather as a community and express solidarity with one another.

Like last week, we designated this Sunday as a time to do some reflecting on the life of the wider Mennonite church.  The timing in coincidental, but this being Pride weekend, and having Orlando so fresh in our minds, sharpens the question of how our deeply divided denomination will move forward in relationship to LGBT members among us.  Like last week, we are focusing on one of the scriptures that will be used during CDC worship services.  All three of those services are based on stories from Luke 8, which is right where the lectionary is these days.

Very early on, leaders of the Christian movement used the image of a ship or a boat, as a metaphor for the church.  Hints of this can be traced all the way back to the New Testament.  The letter of…

Text: Luke 8:26-39

The prophet Isaiah once walked around the land of Judah barefoot and naked – for three years.  This likely falls under the category of “Bible stories I didn’t learn in Sunday school.”  We are rather fond of Isaiah overall.  This is the prophet who spoke of the peaceable kingdom: “the wolf shall live with the lamb…the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.”  Who declared, “They shall beat their swords into plowshares.”  The same prophet who spoke of the coming of Immanuel, whose vision of a just and wise ruler we so readily connect with the person of Jesus.  This prophet, Isaiah, one of the most cherished voices in Jewish and Christian tradition– once went three years without wearing any clothes – in public.

He did this as a sign.  That’s what it says in Isaiah chapter 20 where this happens.  The Lord, Yahweh, wanted naked Isaiah to be a sign to the people about what would happen to those who violently rebelled against the great empire of their day, Assyria.  They would be stripped of all they had and utterly put to shame.  Over the span of those three years, every time Isaiah passed their way, people would have to consider that it was their own nakedness that was really at stake.

Wendell Berry has a whole series of poems about The Mad Farmer.  He’s willing to claim this title for himself because of his belief that in a world gone insane with greed and destruction, the only sane response is to go “mad.”  We’ve borrowed the last line from one of his more well-known poems, The Mad Farmer Liberation Front, for past Easter worship themes: “Practice resurrection.”

Here are some words from another poem “The contrariness of the Mad Farmer:”

I…

 https://joelssermons.files.wordpress.com/2016/05/20160529sermon.mp3

Texts: Proverbs 8:1-4; 22-31, John 1:1-5

About four years ago the University of Chicago received a large grant from the John Templeton Foundation.  It was for the creation the Wisdom Research Project.  The project is pretty much what it sounds like, and describes its mission this way: “ We want to understand how an individual develops wisdom and the circumstances and situations in which people are most likely to make wise decisions.  We hope that, by deepening our scientific understanding of wisdom, we will also begin to understand how to gain, reinforce, and apply wisdom and, in turn, become wiser as a society.”

Dr. Howard Nusbaum is the Director of this project and was recently interviewed in a publication I receive, which is how I found out about it (Bearing: for the Life of Faith, A publication of the Collegeville Institute, Spring 2016, pp. 16-17).  The interview notes that Wisdom researchers “use everything from brain scans to personal narratives to help them test their hypotheses about wisdom.”  Some are researching the effects of meditation on awareness and humility, both keys for wisdom.  Others are looking at the relationship between wisdom and the body.  For example, one research team has found that “years of ballet practice are related to increased wisdom.”  It’s never too late to start… Other researchers are finding significant connections between wisdom and sleep!  While sleeping our brains help us to generalize “from experiences, allowing us to use knowledge from one experience to help with a novel situation.”

So the next time you take a nap or lay down at night to sleep, consider it an exercise in gaining wisdom.

Nusbaum is especially interested in asking, “What is the relationship between wisdom and human flourishing?”  He cites Aristotle who believed these two were closely connected.  Nussbaum says that flourishing “does not…

Text: Exodus 1:8-22

A week and a half ago Geneva Reed-Veal spoke at the Library of Congress.  She was addressing the newly formed Congressional Caucus on black women and girls.  Her speech lasted about four and a half minutes.  She began: “I don’t have a big long statement to read. What I’m going to say to you is that I’m here representing the mothers who are not heard, I am here representing the mothers who have lost children as we go on about our daily lives.”

Geneva Reed-Veal is the mother of Sandra Bland, the 28 year woman stopped by a police man in July of last year for a failure to signal a lane change.  Bland had verbally challenged the cop for pulling her over, the confrontation escalated, and he arrested her.  She was found hanged in a jail cell three days later.  The official cause of her death was ruled a suicide.

Sandra Bland’s story made national news, but in her talk Geneva Reed-Veal asked for a show of hands for who could name the other six women who died in custody in jail in the US that same month, July 2015.  Nobody raised their hands.  I couldn’t have either.

Reed-Veal’s response: “That is a problem. You all are among the walking dead, and I am so glad that I have come out from among you. I heard about Trayvon, I heard about all the shootings, and it did not bother me until it hit my daughter. I was walking dead just like you until Sandra Bland died in a jail cell in Texas.”

On this Mother’s Day, Sandra Bland’s mother has declared that I, and probably most of us here, are “walking dead.”  Alive, but unaware.

This winter and spring I’ve been part of a Sunday school class that’s been studying…