Reparation then and now

The work of reparation
AND GOD SAW... stories of God seeing and acting in Hebrew Scripture
2 Kings 22:1-20; 23:1-3; Luke 24:30-32


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King Josiah was a remarkable boy.

He probably didn’t do much governing at age 8,

when he was made King.

But he must have been well-tutored,

because by age 26, he was making waves, and making history.

He undertook a major campaign of reform and rebuilding—

repairing the temple in Jerusalem,

removing artifacts of Baal worship which had overtaken it,

and restoring it to the worship of Yahweh alone.

A scroll (or “book of the law”) was found,

which emboldened Josiah even more to “make things right,”

to repair not only the temple,

but repair the broken relationship with Yahweh.

And repair the religious and social disorder

that has come to define Judah.

Josiah repented, with loud weeping, of the sins of his ancestors,

and he set about making things right.

Some Bible scholars catch a whiff of maybe a little propaganda here,

as Josiah’s far-reaching religious reform,

also just happened to help him out politically.

But just reading this story at face value,

here we have a powerful leader humbling himself,

repenting of the sins of his ancestors,

and taking every measure possible

to repair the harm that was done.

In other words, he was cleaning up a mess that others had made.

And that makes a good Bible story,

because it is not hard for us to find ourselves in it somewhere.

_____________________

Here’s where I went with it.

I have been taught, since childhood, probably like you,

that if you make a mess, you clean it up.

When I was a young boy trying to figure out how life works,

that meant, if I didn’t make the mess, I didn’t have to clean it up.

Now that I’m an old boy trying to figure out how life works,

I found out my responsibilities are a little more complicated.

Deciding what I’m responsible for is a little tricky.

Deciding what we, collectively, are responsible for is even trickier.

Harmful attitudes, decisions, and actions have been done by people

who came long before me

Either they were my ancestors,

or they were a group I am part of, and identify with—

Americans, or more specifically white Americans,

or even more specifically white male middle-class

Americans in positions of influence and power.

These decisions and actions

might have been made long before I was born.

Or they might be made now, but I have no say in them.

I might even personally and actively oppose

these decisions or actions.

Trouble is, because I am part of the group that took these actions,

I have at least a share of the responsibility.

I may have likely benefitted economically, vocationally,

socially, and in many other ways,

even if I am strongly morally opposed to those actions.

Folks, white privilege is real, regardless how I feel about it.

Systemic oppression is also real.

Generational trauma is also real.

And we are not even that many generations removed

from the horrors of enslaving other human beings,

and depriving human beings of basic human rights.

The Doctrine of Discovery provided a theological basis

for doing violence against indigenous Americans,

and is still alive today,

and has components that need dismantling,

as some of you have been learning together in recent weeks.

So, how do we make things right?

We know that the God we worship

is a God who loves justice and righteousness.

God’s main mission is the restoration of shalom.

Making things right that have gone wrong.

Repairing what is broken.

For King Josiah, it meant repairing the temple,

and restoring what had been lost or broken by his predecessors.

What does repairing what is broken look like for us, today,

given the harm done by people who have gone before us?

Where does my responsibility begin, and end?

Which messes should I help clean up, and how?

It’s complicated, to put it mildly.

We could spend—not hours, but days and weeks and years—

working hard, together, to come to satisfying answers

to these huge and overwhelming problems.

But sometimes, the best thing we can do,

is the one thing that’s right in front of us,

that, with some shared wisdom and shared effort,

we can make a difference in one place.

Today, I’m sharing this sermon time

with two members of Park View who did exactly that.

Their stories are very different, but they are the same in this way:

They joined a shared effort to make something right,

that they, individually, weren’t responsible for,

but as part of a group, they saw and owned their responsibility,

and decided to get involved in the work of reparation.

First, we’ll hear from Barb Fast, then from Phil Helmuth.

_____________________

I invite us all today to learn from King Josiah,

and learn from Barb Fast and Phil Helmuth,

and then look for opportunities you might have

to contribute to some work of repairing harm,

whether small or large.

If it seems overwhelming, gather together some others,

and see what shared wisdom and shared effort can do.

It will take deep listening, and radical openness—

openness of eyes, ears, and heart.

Today, let’s sing our confession together,

VT number 732, in your hymnal, or on the screens.

—Phil Kniss, November 26, 2023

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God's love song

The promise fulfilled
AND GOD SAW... stories of God seeing and acting in Hebrew Scripture
Isaiah 5:1-7; 11:1-5; Mark 12:1-3


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Today I will be unapologetically romantic

in my call for us to embrace a life

of righteousness and justice as a people of God.

Yes, I want us to use our brains today,

to use our rational and mental faculties.

They are essential elements of a healthy faith.

And they are necessary and wonderful aspects of our humanity.

But so are our hearts—

hearts that beat wildly when they are in love.

I have to be a romantic today,

because the prophet Isaiah, of all people,

has given us a love song as his guiding metaphor.

Yes, a love song—

from God the lover, to God’s people, the beloved.

Until today, I don’t think I’ve ever approached prophetic writings

in quite this way.

I’m trying out some new thinking on you, in this sermon.

Prophets, as you probably know,

are typically seen as strange, a bit eccentric,

socially awkward, and even off-putting to others.

They are interested in speaking cold, hard truth,

not in how they come across to others,

or how their listeners respond emotionally.

They often use harsh language,

dress strangely, eat strange food, and live in dark hideaways.

We never picture them as the warm and romantic type.

They are loners, not lovers.

But Isaiah, for some reason,

when searching for the right linguistic form

to communicate with God’s wayward people,

came up with the bright idea of using a love song.

So here we go.

Let’s set the mood.

We already have the candles.

Maybe we should dim the lights, and cue the violins.

Seriously, I hope you hear me out, now.

This is as much of a stretch for me as it is for you.

Like many of you,

I’ve never been very drawn to this stream of spirituality.

I’ve had plenty of charismatic friends over the years

who eat it up,

who sing quasi-romantic praise songs to God as lover.

I’ve been more drawn to the life of the mind,

and to meeting God in nature, in other people, in the arts, etc.

I don’t picture my relationship with God,

as a relationship between lovers.

Yes, I know I am loved by God, but not in that way.

I picture myself being loved more like a parent loves a child.

And it is like that.

We have that metaphor in scripture, often.

And I picture myself being loved

like a creator loves their creation.

That’s also biblical.

But I’m less familiar, and less comfortable, frankly,

with the idea that the love shared between God and me,

could in any way be compared to a pair of human lovers,

or spouses.

I know that idea is out there.

It’s embedded in Christian hymnody.

A well-known hymn from the 1930s—not my favorite—

was made popular by George Beverly Shea.

My God and I go in the field together;

We walk and talk as good friends should and do;

We clasp our hands, our voices ring with laughter;

My God and I walk through the meadow’s hue.

 It continues . . .

My God and I will go for aye together,

We’ll walk and talk just as good friends do;

This earth will pass, and with it common trifles,

But God and I will go unendingly.

Not really my preferred style of music or theology,

but I can’t dismiss it too quickly,

because it’s entirely biblical:

God as a pining lover,

sometimes loved in return,

sometimes jilted by their lover.

It’s a recurring theme in scripture.

We can’t deny it.

So how do we make sense of it?

Hear that? I’m going back to familiar territory—

making sense, being rational.

But let’s think about this love song in Isaiah 5,

and see where it might connect with us today.

God has written this love song using another metaphor—

that of a vineyard.

Like a lot of the best love songs out there,

it’s a sad song.

More than sad, it’s tragic.

So God’s love song tells about Godself

as a farmer tending a vineyard.

God’s lover is the vineyard,

which of course is a symbol, of God’s beloved people.

The song starts out with a dreamy, hopeful vision.

God tilled the soil,

carefully cleared it of stones,

planted the best quality grapevines,

built a tower to keep watch over it,

to chase off any birds or intruders,

carved a beautiful wine vat out of the stone,

everything needed to produce

the choicest and sweetest grapes,

and the finest wine.

The vineyard is picture perfect—a romantic image itself.

But despite all the love God poured out on God’s beloved,

it was unrequited.

It wasn’t returned.

It yielded rotten grapes.

No good for eating.

Worthless for wine.

So like a lot of other love songs,

this one eventually devolves into a breakup song,

reminiscent of Paul Simon’s “50 ways to leave your lover.”

It’s not exactly “slip out the back, Jack, make a new plan, Stan,

no need to be coy, Roy . . .”

but, it’s awfully close.

God the lover says, I’m stepping back,

leaving you to your evil ways.

I won’t forget you. I won’t be far.

But I will no longer actively protect you from yourself.

Literally, it says in Isaiah,

“I will remove its hedge.”

God won’t actively harm God’s people.

God still loves them too much for that.

But God withdraws God’s hand, so to speak,

and let’s nature take over, let’s it return to the wild.

Verse 6: “it shall not be pruned or hoed,

and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns.”

Why did God do this?

What exactly were the rotten grapes?

It’s all explained in verse 7:

For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel,

and the people of Judah are God’s cherished garden.

God expected justice, but saw bloodshed;

expected righteousness, but heard a cry!

Justice.

Righteousness.

Those were the grapes God the lover was after.

That is why God poured out so much love, and time, and effort,

on God’s people.

God gave them everything they needed to produce

what God loves best—justice and righteousness.

But they, as it turned out, did not love as God loved.

They loved themselves more.

They loved what they could accumulate for themselves.

They loved the power they could exert on others.

So instead of a beloved community marked by justice,

righteousness, and the shalom of God,

what actually grew in that garden was violence.

Human oppression and suffering.

God says, “I expected justice, but saw bloodshed;

righteousness, but heard crying.”

I cannot read a verse like that in the Hebrew Bible,

and not have my mind drawn to what’s happening right now,

in that very same part of the world—

the horrific bloodshed in Gaza, and the endless crying,

and utter destruction,

going on there in the name of God—

as if God is working out God’s purposes.

God’s vineyard is once again, as ever,

being mismanaged, and bearing rotten grapes.

And I have to wonder if God’s response is much the same—

grief, disappointment, weariness with our wicked ways,

and a decision to withdraw God’s hand,

and let come what comes.

And . . . I believe when it comes to vineyards

that God is pouring love into—

tilling the soil, carting out stones, planting vines, etc—

those vineyards are not just in and around Jerusalem.

God is singing a love song for vineyards all over the world.

These vineyards are in our own backyard.

God loves good grapes of justice and righteousness,

wherever they may grow,

and gives us everything we need to produce them.

We frequently misunderstand where God the lover has invested,

where God’s passion lies.

Take a scripture like Isaiah 11, also read this morning, where it says,

“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,

and a branch shall grow out of his roots.

The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him.”

We read this, and rightly so, as a sort of Messianic foretelling.

But what kind of shoot is this? What kind of Messiah?

verse 4: “With righteousness he shall judge for the poor

and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth;

“Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist.”

The shoot that comes out of Jesse’s root,

is not about the biological connection to David’s line.

It is describing the sort of life that will spring up

where the old had been.

It is a life that pursues justice, equity, and righteousness.

God is all about establishing relationships with people

who love righteousness and justice as much as God does.

God does not want to extend a pure bloodline based on genetics,

with those descended from Abraham or King David

or Menno Simons, or from anyone else.

God does not want to establish a pure people

who engage in all the proper rituals and religious rites,

or recite perfectly-worded creedal formulas,

or speak, think, and believe all the right things.

No! God wants lovers.

God wants worshipers.

God wants devotees,

people who are utterly smitten,

who have fallen in love,

who are attracted by everything that smells of God.

God wants an exclusive monogamous covenantal commitment

to God’s priorities in this world.

God wants to be in a relationship with

those who love justice and righteousness.

Sorry if that sounds too romantic for your taste.

But this is biblical reality.

God is love.

God loves us.

And we are invited to love God back,

with the same passion that God pours out on us.

If we are filled with that kind of love,

we will share God’s passion for the well-being of all,

we will protect the vulnerable,

we will care for the poor and the small and the wounded,

we will grieve what God grieves,

and we will rejoice in that which brings God joy.

Like any significant romantic partnership,

the romance may ebb and flow.

We will go through rough patches.

It requires effort on our part to maintain closeness.

We must learn to forgive ourselves, and—dare I even say it—

forgive God.

Or at least, forgive the God we thought we knew,

when God’s perceived actions don’t quite line up

with what we expected or hoped for.

But like any good relationship, we persist.

We respect what God has poured into us, and into our vineyard,

and produce fruit accordingly.

The more we cultivate our love for God,

the more likely our lives will be characterized,

by loving what God loves;

the more likely that we will be ignited with a passion 

for the same things God is passionate about.

Join me, if you are willing, in the prayer of confession,

in your bulletin and on the screens.

one God, who sings an endless love song 

to us and to all your creation,

all we confess we often neglect to listen for your song,

one we forget the words, and cannot recall the tune,

we get lost in vain efforts to earn your approval.

all Still, you keep singing your love for us,

one in the voices of nature, in the tongues of diverse peoples,

in the poetry and prose of scripture.

all God, help us to hear. We will listen, and we will sing back to you.

[silence]

one The God who made us and loves us,

and who loves righteousness and justice,

accepts our confession, forgives us,

and the love song goes on, and on, and on.

—Phil Kniss, November 19, 2023

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Accompanied by love

You are not alone
AND GOD SAW... stories of God seeing and acting in Hebrew Scripture
ALL SAINTS SUNDAY
1 Kings 18:17-39; Mark 9:2-4


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I’ll let know right off the bat,

I will not do justice to this text from 1 Kings today.

For a couple of good reasons,

not the least of which is my shoulder surgery four days ago,

and the happy pills I’ve been taking to ward off the pain.

Seriously, my recovery is going pretty well so far,

and I thank you for your prayers

and expressions of support.

But even without this,

I would have left many aspects of this story untouched.

Because today has its own agenda.

This is a special day in our yearly rhythm at Park View.

Some have told me (and I may have said so myself at times)

that they look forward to this service more than any other.

I think that’s because it touches a very deep part of us.

It doesn’t mess around with the superficial,

It goes straight to the core of the human experience—

the reality of the loss of people we love;

the harrowing experience of being left alone, left behind,

left without the sustaining physical presence

and unconditional love

of people who made our lives so full and meaningful.

Obviously, many close relationships

also have complications and pain that go along with

the love and support we may also experience.

Now, after the loss of a loved one, none of us are left entirely alone.

Most of us have some people in our lives

that add light and life to our daily existence,

while at the same time, our loss is real, and deep,

and sometimes even devastating.

And it never fully goes away.

Whether our loss was a spouse, a parent, a child,

or some other person important to our wellbeing,

the bottom line is, if we have lost a beloved life traveler,

we have experienced the deep pain of feeling alone in this world.

There is no feeling more painful, and more common,

than that of feeling alone.

_____________________

So it’s with that in mind that I read this fantastic story

of Elijah and the prophets of Baal.

I could touch on many things in this story.

This is a particular genre of story—a “hero story,”

of which there are many in ancient and modern literature,

and numerous ones in the Bible—

stories intended to reinforce the legitimacy of an important figure,

because they could do amazing things that others could not.

I also could talk about how the northern Kingdom of Israel

became dominated by a pagan religious framework

where the god Baal was dominant,

and where Yahweh,

the God who loved them and delivered them from slavery,

was pushed to the background and nearly forgotten.

I could talk about Elijah’s penchant for complaining and moping,

when the chips were down.

We could ponder why he needed to prove himself, and prove his god,

and whether jealousy might have played a part

in this showdown at the altar with the prophets of Baal.

Or…most provocatively,

we could talk about Elijah’s troubling act of revenge.

Now our assigned reading today stopped at verse 39,

where the crowd of onlookers fell down in repentance

proclaiming Yahweh as the true God.

No question as to why it stopped there.

Because in the very next words, in v. 40,

Elijah tells these repentant people,

to immediately take all 450 prophets of Baal into custody,

and then (and I quote directly from v. 41)

“Elijah brought them down to the Wadi Kishon

and killed them there.”

Wouldn’t you like to have me try to make a Gospel message out of that?

I’m just naming the complexity of this story,

because I want you to know that I know it’s there.

Maybe someday we can explore how to read stories like this.

 But right now, because of what day this is,

I’m going to simplify by lifting out just one aspect of this story.

Like most stories in the Bible,

there are multiple things going on,

and multiple ways we can learn from them.

And sometimes, the simplest lesson is the one we most need.

If All Saints Day is a time for us to name our loss,

to acknowledge the pain of feeling alone in the world,

and to celebrate the joy of discovering there is life beyond loss,

and there is community beyond isolation,

then this story of Elijah is not a bad place to start.

Elijah, like many of us,

struggled with feelings of loneliness, isolation, grief, and loss.

Sometimes, he did not act out of his best self,

I think we could agree.

His job as a prophet,

under the reign of the brutal and idolatrous and egotistical

and vengeful King Ahab

was not an easy calling.

He spent a lot of his time in hiding.

As we stumble along our own grief journeys,

we also occasionally struggle to act our of our best selves.

Sometimes we just do the best we can

to put one foot in front of another,

and decide to love and accept ourselves exactly where we are.

But in the end, this message of God to Elijah,

is the message that keeps coming back to us, as well.

It’s a message we so desperately need to hear, again today.

“You are not alone”

You are being accompanied.

Accompanied by love.

Accompanied by God.

Accompanied by your people, your family –

whether biological or otherwise.

And sometimes, accompanied by strangers.

I’m grateful for the gift of scripture that keeps repeating that message,

over and over again,

spanning all times, and places, and circumstances.

We are not alone.

_____________________

All Saints Day is essentially a day to remind ourselves of that message.

We are not alone.

There is a whole communion of saints that have gone before us.

There is even a community of redeemed scoundrels

that have gone before us, and encourage us in their own way.

We are not alone in our present.

And our past has not entirely left us either.

We are still being actively shaped and formed,

by the character of relationships of those who have died.

As of this All Saints Day, 279 people have died

while associated with Park View Mennonite Church.

In significant ways, they have shaped who we have become

as a church,

and they have shaped many of our lives, individually.

The names of all 279 are before us today.

They are printed in your bulletin,

and we invited you to scan the list,

and reflect on those you knew.

In addition,

photos and narratives of each of their lives,

are in the four memory books you’ll find in the foyer today,

and for the next several weeks.

Take time to browse them now,

or sit down with them later in the church library

where they reside the rest of the year.

_____________________

Our ritual of remembrance today has several stages.

First, we will remember, and name aloud,

11 persons who died since All Saints Sunday last November,

including one just three days ago.

Their photos are on the front table today as an added reminder.

Then the choir will share with us a beautiful and moving song

by John Bell, “The Last Journey.”

Then all will be invited to make your way forward

for candlelighting and communion.

Instructions for that will follow.

Let us now hear the names of those who died in the last year.

You may read in unison the bold print of the scripture,

as you see it projected on the screen.

We remember with thanksgiving those from this congregation whom we have entrusted to God and who now rest from their labors.

Virginia Anne Redhead Bethune (Jan 3, 1936 – November 16, 2022)

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:

And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord

my whole life long. Psalms 23:6

Vira Gladys Miller Hershberger (Jan 12, 1922 – November 23, 2022)

Death has been swallowed up in victory.

Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory

through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:54, 57

Aaron Donald Augsburger (December 21, 1925 – November 27, 2022)

If God is for us, who is against us?

For I am convinced that nothing will be able to separate us

from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:31, 38-39

LaVerne Ruth Zehr Yoder (August 26, 1938 – December 14, 2022)

For I know that my Redeemer lives,

and that at the last he will stand upon the earth.

And after my skin has been thus destroyed,

then in my flesh I shall see God. Job 19:25-26

Carol Darlene Gaeddert Burkhart (Sept. 15, 1933 – January 28, 2023)

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,

let us run with perseverance the race before us.  Hebrews 12:1

Samuel Horton Weaver (May 1, 1930 – February 17, 2023)

Even though our outer nature is wasting away,

our inner nature is being renewed day by day. 2 Corinthians 4:16

Luke Mummau Drescher (July 31, 1935 – March 4, 2023)

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Matthew 5:4, 8

Marian Chapin Jameson (December 17, 1931 - May 1, 2023)

We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves.

Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. Rom 14:7-8

Frederick Thomas Barner, III (August 9, 1936 – August 17, 2023)

He will guide them to springs of the water of life,

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Revelation 7:17

Maribeth Messner Kreider (November 1, 1940 – September 11, 2023)

I will come again and will take you to myself,

so that where I am, there you may be also. John 14:3

Abraham Davis (May 14, 1923 – November 2, 2023)

I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, 

even though they die, will live;

And everyone who lives and believes in me

will never die. John 11:25-26

—Phil Kniss, November 5, 2023

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