{"id":1135,"date":"2015-06-07T11:00:22","date_gmt":"2015-06-07T15:00:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/?p=1135"},"modified":"2019-10-22T11:56:55","modified_gmt":"2019-10-22T15:56:55","slug":"we-are-family","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/2015\/06\/07\/we-are-family\/","title":{"rendered":"We Are Family"},"content":{"rendered":"

Click here to listen to the full service<\/a><\/p>\n

Mark 3:20-35<\/a><\/p>\n

Click here to listen to the sermon only<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cGod\u2019s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit\u201d (Romans 5: 5)<\/i><\/p>\n

Ride On<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

At conference, over lunch, a pastor from Buffalo told us about children at church camp. \u00a0One 9 year old in pig-tails chose horse camp last year. \u00a0I didn\u2019t know Methodists ran horse camp. \u00a0We do. \u00a0But on Monday she fell off, or was frightened or something. \u00a0She cowered through the week, unable to get back on the horse and ride. \u00a0Her counselor just kept on encouraging. \u00a0Friday was the rodeo. \u00a0I guess that is horse camp graduation. \u00a0All week she wrestled, her fear of falling grappling with her desire to be in the rodeo. \u00a0Dawn broke on Friday, as it does. \u00a0I loved, really loved, the way the minister told us about the rodeo. \u00a0The girl in pig-tails put herself on the horse. \u00a0This was an old horse, not American Pharaoh. The old glue factory mare stumbled around the little circle made of six orange cones. \u00a0First the girl hugged the horse\u2019s neck and kept her eyes closed. \u00a0\u00a0But then, after a little while, she opened her eyes. \u00a0Then she looked up. \u00a0Then she sat up. \u00a0Then she leaned back. \u00a0Then she straightened her back. \u00a0Then she dug her knees into horse flesh. \u00a0Then she clicked her tongue. \u00a0Then she slapped the reins. \u00a0The old glue factory mare plodded along. \u00a0But the jockey beamed. \u00a0She waved to the crowd. \u00a0She nodded response to her counselor\u2019s encouragement. \u00a0She rode around the circle again. \u00a0And again. \u00a0And again. \u00a0She wouldn\u2019t stop. \u00a0The rodeo went 30 minutes over schedule. \u00a0With a little encouragement, a little girl grew up a little.<\/p>\n

All of us ride better when we\u2019re loved.<\/i><\/p>\n

Swing Batter<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

It made me think, later that day, about encouragement. \u00a0A few years ago somebody came up with the idea that the Little League champs should play their dads on Labor Day. \u00a0A picnic was arranged, with watermelon and chili dogs. \u00a0\u00a0The right fielder\u2019s dad tried not to come. \u00a0He was just terrible at baseball. \u00a0First he said he had to work. \u00a0Then a trip was planned. \u00a0Then he felt ill. \u00a0But his son kept after him. \u00a0Dad was at middle age and he had always been a simply lousy batter. \u00a0He could not hit the broad side of a barn, when he was young. \u00a0Now he was bald. \u00a0And his glasses were thick, very thick. \u00a0And, speaking delicately, he carried frontside a bit, let us say, of a paunch. \u00a0The thought of facing fast pitching made him squirm. \u00a0His son, though, was not to be stymied. \u00a0\u00a0Dad prayed for rain, or a hurricane, or untimely death. \u00a0Anyone\u2019s. \u00a0But dawn broke on Labor Day, as it does. \u00a0Not a cloud in the sky. \u00a0Not a breath of wind. \u00a072 degrees on the Fahrenheit scale. \u00a0It could have been San Diego. \u00a0\u00a0Distraught, Dad went. \u00a0The dreaded moment came, his \u201cups\u201d. \u00a0He stood in the box, remembering every strike out of 30 years ago. \u00a0He thought of running. \u00a0He adjusted his coke bottle glasses, and sweated. \u00a0All of a sudden from right field he heard, in the full throated innocent confidence of his son\u2019s voice, \u201cCome on Dad, you can do it, I know you can.\u201d \u00a0He took a ball, and stood tall. \u00a0\u201cI know you can!\u201d \u00a0He took a strike and felt a little better. \u00a0\u201cCome on Dad, I know you can hit it.\u201d \u00a0Over the plate came a fast straight pitch. \u00a0Do you know how good he felt to see that little Texas leaguer dropping in behind second base? \u00a0Rounding first, and stopping, he wiped his glasses. \u00a0He felt good. \u00a0Behind him, from right field, a whisper, \u201cI knew you could, Dad, I just knew you could.\u201d<\/p>\n

All of us swing better when we\u2019re loved.<\/i><\/p>\n

Be Like 43<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

After thirty years of losses one High School basketball team competed in sectional semi-finals. \u00a0\u00a0It is a mystery how this happened. \u00a0A team shorter, skinnier, weaker, smaller, and less experienced than nearly every opponent, somehow succeeded. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They grew steadily in ability and confidence. \u00a0They failed and lost, and in this they learned. \u00a0\u00a0Sometimes they won, and in this they learned, too. \u00a0Every so often you would see, as visible as a cocoon giving way to a butterfly or a snake shedding its skin or a calf standing after birth, one of the players find himself on the court. \u00a0It was something to behold. \u00a0The parents, as ever, attributed all losses to bad officiating, and all wins to marvelous genes. \u00a0Before the post season, the coach sent a personal, hand written note to every one of his players. \u00a0He thanked them for their willingness to play. \u00a0He honestly commended their improvement. \u00a0He admitted how much he enjoyed their company. \u00a0Then he challenged them to rise to the post-season challenge. \u00a0They did. \u00a0He wrote personally to one young man, number 43 on the team, \u201cmy own son is growing and learning to play ball, too, and when he asks me how to play and how to be, I just say, you look on the court and you watch 43 and what he does you do –be like 43\u201d. \u00a0Be like 43. \u00a0Dawn broke on the day of the sectional game, and they won.<\/p>\n

All of us rebound better when we\u2019re loved.<\/i><\/p>\n

Go OWU<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

One October my brother and I trained to run in the Washington DC Marine Corps Marathon, around the Pentagon twice, through Georgetown, past every good monument, and out onto the peninsula. \u00a0The day before I had breakfast with two dear friends, encouragers they, at the Pentagon City Ritz Carlton, infamous in another, Presidential and relational connection. \u00a0Dawn broke on Sunday, a rainy cold morning. \u00a0I thought I was ready. \u00a0I was wrong. \u00a0Maybe it was the driving 40 degree rain, or maybe I was just older than I thought. \u00a0My brother finished more than an hour before I did. \u00a0I hit the wall at mile 16. \u00a0\u00a0In the rain, I was passed by young men, young women, old men, old women, waddlers, cradlers, wigglers, people in wheel chairs, moms, soccer moms, and man from Denver running backwards. \u00a0It was not pretty. \u00a0Somehow though, I finished. \u00a0In part, looking back, through the encouragement of anonymous curbside exhorters. \u00a0I was wearing a red Ohio Wesleyan sweatshirt. \u00a0It was encouraging to hear a shout, \u201cGo red guy!\u201d \u00a0\u00a0It was more encouraging to hear, \u201cKeep going Ohio!\u201d \u00a0It was even more encouraging to hear, \u201cGood going, Ohio Wesleyan!\u201d \u00a0But most encouraging of all were the occasional alumni voices, \u201cGo OWU!\u201d \u00a0\u00a0The more personal, the more particular the encouragement, the more powerful it is. \u00a0I made it to the Iwo Gima monument. \u00a0My son and I bade farewell to my brother and we drove home.<\/p>\n

All of us run better when we\u2019re loved.<\/i><\/p>\n

A Real Community<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

At dawn I was thinking of our President and Provost who were here a few weeks ago. \u00a0They led and read in service. \u00a0Mostly, though, they listened and watched. \u00a0Their presence encouraged us. \u00a0Then they had some kind things to say. \u00a0On email, this week, from afar we received a kind encouragement. \u00a0In a note this week, from a visitor last week, we received a kind encouragement. \u00a0They said, all the above said, in a word, \u201cgood for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

It takes a lot of love to build and maintain the community of faith. \u00a0A worship service doesn\u2019t just happen by accident or magic or dream. \u00a0You build it.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to print the bulletin. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to bake the bread. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to rock and hug babies. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to send notes to shut-ins. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to usher. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to visit the ill. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to write the e newsletter. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to go to meetings. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to speak. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to listen. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to help others up the stairs. \u00a0Good for you.<\/p>\n

It takes someone to recruit someone for all the above. \u00a0Good for\u00a0you.<\/p>\n

It takes work, and a decision to role out of bed on Sunday and\u00a0come.<\/p>\n

If you think marriage is hard, try church.<\/p>\n

A question, respectful but serious, for us: \u00a0how are we ever going to grapple together with the great, tragic and unsolved problems of our time, without real community? \u00a0How will we find the courage and strength to wrestle ahead with the Tsarnaev verdict, with the balances of security and freedom, with police protection and the protection of our urban youth, with the environment and the middle east and the distribution of wealth and education, without a restorative community of meaning, belonging and empowerment? \u00a0For all these issues, the real point of departure, this said with respect and love is this: \u00a0where are you on Sunday at 11am?<\/p>\n

All of us serve better when we\u2019re loved.<\/i><\/p>\n

Paul Writes to Rome<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

In similar apparently and beguilingly simple terms, Paul wrote to the Romans, in chapter 5. \u00a0Our reading today could well be memorized and recited, daily, for the course of a lifetime. \u00a0Our reading this morning might properly be printed and framed for the office desk or the kitchen counter. \u00a0Our reading this Sunday could rightly be imprinted upon the heart, written on every human heart. \u00a0This is the great watershed of the faith of Christ, simply stated for you and me, for the dying.<\/p>\n

What dim reflections we find of Love, here in the dark, come from the death of Christ. \u00a0The great peaks in human history dimly reflect this love: \u00a0Alexander snf the glory of Athens, Augustus and the pride of Rome, Michaelangelo and the beauty of Florence, Franklin and the birth of a nation. \u00a0The great peaks of spirit do too: \u00a0Dionysius the Areopagite, \u00a0Augustine\u2019s mother, Katie von Bora, Joan of Arc, Teresa of Avila. \u00a0Love is not for the simple, only. \u00a0Love is for the wise. \u00a0One of our dear friends, a poet, Carol, now dead, alone caught the humor of a single phrase, years ago: \u00a0we think of ourselves as \u2018temporarily immortal\u2019.<\/p>\n

You remember the basic points in Romans: \u00a01:16, the Gospel of which Paul is not ashamed\u20262:21, our condition, foolish faithless, heartless ruthless\u20268:33, hope that is seen is not hope\u202610:9, if you confess with your lips\u202612:9, let love be genuine\u2026<\/p>\n

You hear and receive Paul\u2019s basic terms in this central high peak, chapter 5: \u00a0faith, the gift of God in Jesus Christ; \u00a0peace, the closeness of faith and the absence of barrier; hope, not seen; glory, heaven yes but also the full humanity for which we were made; spirit, that which confers and conveys and conducts all the above, and all of them circling agape<\/i><\/b>, the initiative of God loving us into love and freeing us into freedom. \u00a0So Mark 3 similarly acclaims, after its several apocalyptic terms (Beelzebub, demons, Satan, house divided, strong man, and the unclean spirit) it is the will of God, the divine love, and love\u2019s outworking in life, that make us together, family. \u00a0Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.<\/i><\/p>\n

Our business here is dying. \u00a0Life is about learning to die. \u00a0Call it, with the ancient church, meditatio mortis. \u00a0<\/i>\u00a0How are we ever going to manage? \u00a0Our almost interminable avoidance will not, in itself, cut it.<\/p>\n

John Knox: \u2018to be saved is to be incorporated \u201cin Christ\u201d, that is , to belong to this new and heavenly order, primarily eschatological but even now proleptically present, just as the day is present in the dawn\u2019<\/i><\/p>\n

It is Love alone that justifies. \u00a0Love alone that brings peace. \u00a0Love alone that provides space in grace. \u00a0Love alone that hints at glory. \u00a0Love alone that outlasts suffering. \u00a0Love alone that is stronger than death. \u00a0Love alone that stoops to reach out for the weak and lost. \u00a0Love alone that \u00a0bleeds on your behalf. \u00a0Love alone that reconciles enemies.<\/p>\n

To our young adults, our millennial generation, so searingly formed in 9\/11 and the Great Recession, we might say, love alone has the grace and power savingly to soften the inevitable collisions (Isaiah Berlin) of personal and social life.<\/p>\n

The first Christians even found in suffering something productive. \u00a0It was their manner of suffering that impressed others. It was their manner of dying, it was Paul\u2019s manner of dying, perhaps in Rome, that others noticed:<\/p>\n

All of us live and, especially, die, better when we\u2019re loved.<\/i><\/p>\n

Suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God\u2019s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.<\/i><\/p>\n

-The Rev. Dr. Robert Allan Hill, Dean of Marsh Chapel<\/a><\/p>\n

For more information about Marsh Chapel at Boston University,\u00a0click here<\/a>.<\/p>\n

For information about donating to the Chapel,\u00a0click here<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Click here to listen to the full service Mark 3:20-35 Click here to listen to the sermon only \u201cGod\u2019s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit\u201d (Romans 5: 5) Ride On At conference, over lunch, a pastor from Buffalo told us about children at church camp. \u00a0One 9 year old in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2679,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[22],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1135"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2679"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1135"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1135\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1137,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1135\/revisions\/1137"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1135"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1135"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1135"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}