NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN by Cheri Holdridge (with an assist by Kurt Young)

I wonder how many of you ever remember reading the entire book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament? How many of you have ever done a Bible study on it? Or remember hearing a sermon about it? Do you know anything about it? We’re going to do something a little different today. I’m going to read more scripture to you than usual today, because this book is unfamiliar, and it’s really appropriate to our conversation about Sabbath.   I promise it is going to be fun. 

Ecclesiastes is just not one of those books that you hear much about. Ecclesiastes is not on the top ten list of well known books in the Bible. When I read today, I’m going to read from The Message, which is a modern paraphrase from the Greek and Hebrew written by Eugene Peterson. Peterson is a pastor who wrote The Message in order to help put the Bible into language that his congregation could understand. We call it a paraphrase because while he knows the Biblical languages and works hard to be true to the spirit of the text, he does not translate it word for word. He takes some poetic license in order to make it more understandable for us today. We use his Message bible here many Sundays.

Ecclesiastes is an unusual book. Honestly, it does not talk much about God. It is one of a few books of the Bible that tells us more about the human experience than it tells us about God. It’s important to remember that we need the whole Bible, all 66 books, in order to get a good picture of God, and the relationship between God and humanity. If I had to pick just one book, in order to live my life by, then the Gospel of Luke would be a good one. Or the Book of Romans has some great theology. But some books of the Bible, on their own, would not be enough. Song of Songs, for example, is passionate Biblical love poetry (gasp, God approves of human love). It says almost nothing about God. But it is in the Bible. Why? To show us that human love and passion is part of God’s creation.

One commentator wrote that the Book of Ecclesiastes was written for “skeptics, people with a dark vision of reality and recovering alcoholics” (The New Interpreter’s Bible Vol. 5, p. 267). The book does not say much about God, but it says so much about the toil of human existence. Have you been there?  Ecclesiastes starts off with that puzzling phrase “Vanity of vanities.” The translators have a really hard times translating that into English. Some options are: utter futility, meaningless & emptiness (ibid, p. 279). This is how the writer describes life.

Let me read to you again the scripture which Kristen read, this time from The Message:

Smoke, nothing but smoke. [That’s what the Quester says.]
    There’s nothing to anything—it’s all smoke.
What’s there to show for a lifetime of work,
    a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone?
One generation goes its way, the next one arrives,
    but nothing changes—it’s business as usual for old
        planet earth.
The sun comes up and the sun goes down,
    then does it again, and again—the same old round.
….Everything’s boring, utterly boring—
    no one can find any meaning in it.
Boring to the eye,
    boring to the ear.
What was will be again,
    what happened will happen again.
There’s nothing new on this earth. [nothing new under the sun]

He sounds a bit depressed, doesn’t he?  I have been there, have you?

Now, can you imagine why this sage is so discouraged? He has been caught up in that human pursuit that we know so well: trying to be the best, the richest, the best looking, the most famous; trying to have everything, and do everything. This is what we have been talking about these past couple of weeks in worship, right: the drive to succeed and win and work until we collapse from exhaustion. We have to do it because everyone is doing it, right?  Our boss wants us to do it. 

This is what he did:

Ecclesiastes 2

^4-8 Oh, I did great things:

    built houses,
    planted vineyards,
    designed gardens and parks
        and planted a variety of fruit trees in them,
    made pools of water
        to irrigate the groves of trees.
I bought slaves, male and female,
        who had children, giving me even more slaves;
    then I acquired large herds and flocks,
        larger than any before me in Jerusalem.
I piled up silver and gold,
        loot from kings and kingdoms.
I gathered a chorus of singers to entertain me with song,
    and—most exquisite of all pleasures—
    voluptuous maidens for my bed.

^9-10 Oh, how I prospered! I left all my predecessors in Jerusalem far behind, left them behind in the dust. What’s more, I kept a clear head through it all. Everything I wanted I took—I never said no to myself. I gave in to every impulse, held back nothing. I sucked the marrow of pleasure out of every task—my reward to myself for a hard day’s work!

Isn’t that a description of the worst of the American dream today? We acquire things. A home, a spouse, the right job. We give into every material impulse. We work hard and play hard so hard we wear ourselves out.  Then read what he says:

¹¹ Then I took a good look at everything I’d done, looked at all the sweat and hard work. But when I looked, I saw nothing but smoke. Smoke and spitting into the wind. There was nothing to any of it. Nothing.

This is my friends is spiritual emptiness. The realization that this treadmill brings with it exhaustion.  We never reach a goal that gives us contentment. 

          At least he finally comes to his senses:

 ^20-23 That’s when I called it quits, gave up on anything that could be hoped for on this earth. What’s the point of working your fingers to the bone if you hand over what you worked for to someone who never lifted a finger for it? ….

^24-26 The best you can do with your life is have a good time and get by the best you can. The way I see it, that’s it—divine fate. Whether we feast or fast, it’s up to God. God may give wisdom and knowledge and joy to his favorites, but sinners are assigned a life of hard labor, and end up turning their wages over to God’s favorites. Nothing but smoke—and spitting into the wind.

The book goes on and on, twelve chapters of this. One writer calls it a sort of kaleidoscope view or a “notebook of ideas by a philosopher on the downside and upside of life” (The New Interpreter’s Bible Vol. 5, p. 278). The writer bounces from despair to a sort of qualified or skeptical hopefulness in calling the reader to seize life and live in the moment.

By chapter nine, we find this example, seeing some hope finally:

Seize life! Eat bread with gusto,
Drink wine with a robust heart.
Oh yes—God takes pleasure in your pleasure!
Dress festively every morning.
Don’t skimp on colors and scarves.
Relish life with the spouse you love
Each and every day of your precarious life.
Each day is God’s gift. It’s all you get in exchange
For the hard work of staying alive.
Make the most of each one!
Whatever turns up, grab it and do it. And heartily!
This is your last and only chance at it,
For there’s neither work to do nor thoughts to think
In the company of the dead, where you’re most certainly headed.

Well, there he goes again at the end.

You see for a while there, I start to think the writer gets it. “Seize the day. Each day it God’s gift.” It sounds like he is calling us to live in each precious moment. But then he falls back into despair. Like I told you, you don’t want Ecclesiastes to be the only book you live by. This writer is one who understands life as toil.  This is what we call preaching against the text for ministers.

But this is the message I believe we are to take from Ecclesiastes: we have a choice. We can choose to live in the constant struggle, trying to get ahead and to work and to always try to reach for more and never be content.

Or we can remember this invitation to Sabbath contentment. Have you tried some of our Sabbath practices?  Being mindful, taking time out, etc. 

There really is nothing new under the sun. The rush to better technology or fashion, or the perfect life really is futile. The present moment is God’s gift to us. Each day is God’s gift. Living in the present is how we feed our souls and find peace. The tension in the book of Ecclesiastes is to stop rushing into the future but to linger in the present.

Probably the most familiar chapter in this book comes in chapter 3. I bet you know this one (you’ve heard it sung if you’ve listened to classic rock).

The chapter invites us to remember that there is a time for everything, and to pay attention to what moment we are in. Why not live in the moment we are in, rather than always longing to be in some other moment, read along:

Chapter 3

There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:

^2-8 A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

There is nothing new under the sun.

Wayne Muller, the author of our book Sabbath, says it this way:  Life should not just make us tired, life should make us happy. Finding joy, and claiming it, is what Sabbath rest is all about.  Being followers of Jesus means we take a break. We find joy and claim it, not rush always into the future.  Sometimes we are too busy to notice it. 

So this week I give you an invitation. To enjoy the present moment.

God blesses us with joy and beauty and peace every day, in so many ways, but we’re too busy to notice. 

When I ask people, “How do you connect with God?” “How do you call yourself back into the present moment and delight in God?” people often tell me that they do it in nature. So our “Response to the Message” today is an invitation to take a walk or a bike ride (you can join us this Tuesday night) or just sit on your porch or deck in the silence and be in the present moment. Look at the beauty of creation. 

It will take some discipline.  As you do this, gently invite the to-do lists, and your work, and everything else to leave your mind for a few minutes, and just BE. My spiritual director has me as a discipline look at the colors. See how many colors you can see. How many shades of green can you see? Study one tiny flower or leaf. Just be in the moment. Delight in the beauty.   In a Sabbath practice, we are invited to just BE in the moment.  Delight in where we are now.  I invite us to plan this week when you can do this.  Take the time and pray and plan NOW how you are going to make this happen for you. 

The Joy of Rest and Prayer by Cheri Holdridge (with an assist by Kurt Young)

If you were not with us last week, here is a tiny re-cap,  we are doing a series on the practice of Sabbath.  Sabbath originated with the creation story. God created the world in seven days and included with the six days of work was a seventh day of rest. There is a rhythm to life that is necessary to our balance and well being, but most of us are not well practiced at this balance. So here at The Village for the next couple of months we are learning together about Sabbath rest and practice it.

This does not mean that we are necessarily going back to the last century when people did not shop or go to the movies on Sunday. Though you could make that choice if you want. The practice of Sabbath can happen in a few moments of mindful breathing each day, or when we take a walk and drink in the beauty of God’s creation. We might take a Sabbath retreat for a couple of days every few months with no agenda but to rest, pray, and do nothing else. 

Which brings us to today. Wayne Muller, whose book called Sabbath, is our source for this series, writes about a woman who attended one of his Sabbath retreats. He said one weekend this highly respected professional, was sharing at the retreat and said: “I am so tired, I am with people all day and all night, but I still feel so lonely. My soul feels dry. Even when things work well, when I can break away from work and spend time with my kids, nothing seems to heal this fatigue, this sense of guilt and duty and responsibility. It all feels so heavy.” then she sat back and wept (p. 24).

The woman has a deep weariness from being in that daily push and grind where there is no room for rest, and no room to be in the presence of God and be loved by God. She understands that no quick fix will heal her. But we must all start somewhere, with practices of rest and creative renewal, that connect us to God, and fill that spiritual well that we each have deep inside.  We all have this well, deep inside. 

 Jesus, in his teaching, did not give us a seven point plan for stress reduction. In fact, he did not always wait until everyone was cared for, to take care of himself. Sometimes he just walked away. He did not leave a plan for who would cover for him while he was gone.  He paid attention to his body and soul. And when he needed to he simply walked away, far away to the other side of the lake where no one could find him, and he rested and prayed. He did what he had to do to fill that well inside of himself. He understood that you cannot be a leader who cares for others if your own well is dry.  Ever try to care for someone when you are done?

This country is full of people with weary souls who are walking around ready to collapse. We are making bad choices and not really doing good, creative work because we have no balance in our lives. Some of us have never rested in God. Others of us have us have simply forgotten how. Some of us simply no clue how to rest and pray. The first thing to do is to just STOP. Do you know how to stop? Stop all the running and over-achieving. Make space to rest and pray. 

That is what Jesus did:

Matthew 14 -- As soon as the meal was finished, Jesus insisted that the disciples get in the boat and go on ahead to the other side while he dismissed the people. With the crowd dispersed, he climbed the mountain so he could be by himself and pray. He stayed there alone, late into the night.

Luke 5:15-16

Soon a large crowd of people had gathered to listen and be healed of their ailments. As often as possible Jesus withdrew to out-of-the-way places for prayer.

Mark 1:32, 35

³² That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons.

³⁵ In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. 

He did his work, and then he got away to rest and pray. He could not do one without the other. But if I ask 1000 church-goers on Monday night, did you stop and pray today? Do you know what you will say? 

·         I sorta pray on the run.

·         I can’t get up early in the morning to pray. I’m too tired.

·         I don’t know how to pray.

·         Yeah, I know I feel better when I pray, but I just can’t keep the habit going. 

And if I were to ask you, do you get enough rest, what would you say:

·        

           Rest, what’s that?

·         I have too much to do.

·         I’ll rest when I retire.

But these are these two things that Jesus did to take care of himself. We say we want to follow Jesus and be like Jesus. And yet, we really don’t do very well at these two things he did on a regular basis to take care of himself.

I want to tell you a story about what happens when we can carve out a little space in our lives where God can help us rest and fill our creative wells. It’s a story Wayne Muller tells in his book Sabbath.  Sister Gilchrist is a Cistercian nun at the Abbey of the Mississippi. She has a variety of jobs which include cooking and helping to manage the land where they keep a herd of cattle. She enjoys walking their land in the afternoon and picking wild herbs, and taking those herbs to the kitchen where they can be used for dinner.

A few years ago they sisters had a consultation and learned about permaculture to learn about the most efficient and sustainable use for the land and animals. They were advised that rather than letting the animals roam the entire field they should build a pen and have the animals thoroughly graze and fertilize a small patch of land at a time, and the move the pen to another patch of land. In this way one patch of land at a time would be fully used and the other sections would rest.  The land would rest.  Sabbath rest, even for the land is needed.

After two years of this, Sister Gilchrist went out one day in early Spring to discover a dozen new herbs had miraculously appears alongside the usual ones. New grasses had also germinated. The new grasses were so nourishing that the sisters were able to stop supplementing the cows’ diet with corn. These new herbs and grasses had been embedded in the soil all along. But because the cows had been walking all over all the land, they were never able to grow to their fullness. When the land and seeds were given a necessary Sabbath rest, the earth could reveal these wonderful resources! (pp. 143-144)

The story is, of course, a wonderful metaphor for our own lives. If we were to allow ourselves periods of rest and work, how much more creative might we feel? People tell me all the time that they know they are actually more productive at work when they don’t work so much and they are rested and take time to play and to feed their souls.

Muller gives suggestions for trying to slow down and change your pace in order to integrate rest into your routine. Leaf through a magazine or browse the internet for a few minutes and find a picture that you find appealing, that brings you joy. Cut out the picture, or print it, and put it somewhere that you will see it several times a day. Notice how you feel when you see it. This is another practice of mindfulness as we discussed last week. Be in the present moment, and just experiencing delight. Be mindful of how the picture calms you.

Or here is another suggestion, write a short poem or a few lines in a journal just for yourself, for no one else to read, about nothing of any importance. Put a flower in a cup by your bed or on your desk or table. Sing a song that you know by heart. Take a crayon and make simple drawing of your home. Do something playful like this every day. The power of a simple act of creativity can help you stop, slow your pace and interrupt your speed. “Notice how willing you are to be stopped” and how it feels (pp. 145-6).  Sometimes we let children let us be stopped, but only sometimes.

We don’t know much about what Jesus did when he went away to the other side of the lake to pray. He was in nature so we can imagine that he took a look at the beautiful lake, the trees, and the flowers. I can picture Jesus taking some deep breaths and asking God to refill his well after Jesus had given so much of himself away throughout the day. Maybe he sang a song, or wrote a bit of poetry. Maybe he drew a picture in the sand with a stick. He knew the importance of balance – of a change of pace—of setting aside time and space from his work to honor Sabbath rest and to pray.

We also know this. The work that Jesus did was amazing in its creativity and productivity. He created a movement that has endured for more than 2000 years. Not many people can say that. He did not suffer from burn out. He did not complain. We have no record that he whined about being too busy or being stressed. He had a singular focus. But in order to move forward with his mission to share the transformative love of God, Jesus knew that he had to take breaks.

That is our invitation for today: to follow Jesus and change the world, by taking time and space to rest and pray, just like Jesus.   Last week I invited you to take moments for Sabbath mindfulness: to use something such as an alarm on your watch, as a reminder to pause and remember God several times a day. I asked you to take three deep breaths and be in the present moment and center yourself.

This week, I want to invite you to take that a little farther. For those who are not already praying or meditating every morning, I invite you to take 5 minutes each morning to simply breathe, and pay attention to your breath. Remember that the word breath in Greek is the same word as Spirit; so when we breathe, we breathe in the Spirit of God our creator. We also talked last week about how the breath is part of the rhythm of the earth, inhale/exhale; night and day, spring and winter, everything in rhythm.

Here is the practice of the rhythm of breath:  Sit comfortably, and close your eyes. Let yourself become aware of the physical sensation of the breath, feeling the length of each inhale and exhale. Don’t change your breath; just watch the breath. Feel the rhythm of the breath; feel its timing; the end of the exhale and the readiness to inhale. When the mind wanders, as it will, don’t fret. Just return your awareness to your breath.   Silently pay attention to each inhale and exhale.  

You may open your eyes now. Set a timer and do this for 5 minutes; Pay attention to how you feel at the beginning and the end of the five minutes and to the rhythm of your breath.

I do this (Kurt’s spiritual director is working on getting him up to 10 minutes as he gets really distracted & stressed), and I can tell you I almost always feel calmer at the end of the five minutes. There are days when I find it hard to do, but I try and it does make a difference.

I hope you will try this practice of the breathing meditation this week. Let me know if you do it and how it goes for you. You can stop during the day, when you feel stressed, and do it again. Remember that Jesus did this all the time. He went away to a quiet place to rest and pray. He connected with the Spirit of God deep inside him.

We are followers of Jesus and we can change the world, but we need balance to do it. We need the Sabbath practice of rest.

WHAT IS A DISCIPLE? by Cheri Holdridge (with an assist by Patti Lusher)

We all watched the news this week as the pictures came from Moore Oklahoma of a devastating tornado. As a mother of two children, I stood in my kitchen spellbound early Monday evening as the live pictures came from Plaza Towers Elementary School.  I was watching to see if the children and teachers would all come out alive. Seven children died at that school, and another 17 adults in the town.  As I watched the photos I was convinced many more children had died.  I needed to cook dinner for the family, but I could not move.  I just wanted to see children start walking out or being helped out from the debris, but the photos did not come.  It was gut-wrenching.

Eventually the stories have come: the stories of bravery and courage.  I saw a couple of teachers interviewed.  One was a teacher and also a mother.  She talked about what she did to protect the children in her classroom, while worrying about her own children in other classrooms in the same building.  Then they showed her walking, the next day, in the rubble, to the place where her child’s classroom had been.  Her child’s teacher was there, Mrs. Biddle.  The mother/teacher said, “This teacher is my friend.  I know she loves her students and I knew she was doing what she could to protect them.”

The reporter there talked to Mrs. Biddle and she told the now familiar story of doing her best to get her children to safety:  under their desks, trying to keep them calm.  Mrs. Biddle was wearing a necklace with a big medallion on it that said: “Pray big.” She said that she wants parents to know “Your child is my child” all day long.  To me, Mrs. Biddle is a disciple.  She is definitely not just teaching school to get a paycheck.  This is her calling. The other mother/teacher knows that about her friend.  These women know that their job is to teach children and to raise them to be compassionate and responsible adults. But in a once-in-a-lifetime tornado, their job is also to do everything they can to save the lives of these children.  And that is what these teachers did.

That is being a disciple:  using your gifts to help someone else, being the best person you can be, and when it comes to a life or death situation, putting your life on the line for the people you serve.

In the weeks and months after Jesus left this earth, his disciples put into practice what it means to be a disciple.  It passed from one person to the next, just like the light from a flame passes from one match to the next.

You know the names of those first disciples:  Peter, James, John, Andrew, Bartholomew. But then there were others:  the ones they discipled, and the ones discipled by them as the fire of the Holy Spirit spread.  One of them was named Tabitha.  In fact, Tabitha was the first woman in the Bible referred to as a disciple.

When we meet Tabitha in scripture, she has just died, but we learn that she had an important ministry as a disciple.  She was well known for her ministries of care and helping. It wasn’t complicated.  She could sew and she made clothes and cared for the widows. This was an important ministry in her day because, you see, most women did not have any means of income. They were taken care of by their husbands and a widow was left at the mercy and the generosity of friends and neighbors.  Tabitha was someone who apparently had the means and the desire to care for the widows.  When she died, they were distraught, perhaps not only because their friend died, but because they had lost her help.

While the women were preparing her for burial, some disciples heard Peter was nearby and they sent for him.  Peter came to the home where Tabitha was being prepared for burial. He saw the widows in their distress.  And then the most amazing thing happened. Peter sent the women out.

 He knelt and prayed. Then he spoke directly to the body: “Tabitha, get up.”
^40-41 She opened her eyes. When she saw Peter, she sat up. He took her hand and helped her up. Then he called in the believers and widows, and presented her to them alive. ⁴² This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord.

This miracle comes not long after Jesus’ own resurrection from the dead.  Of course, we have no idea what may have happened.  Were they mistaken about her being dead?  Did he resuscitate her?  Did he really bring someone back from the dead?  These early days after the resurrection of Jesus were filled with miracles.  We can’t really know what happened for sure.  But here is what we do know.  Something happened, and because of it, many more people became believers.  More people became disciples.

More people became people who:

·       pray big,

·       who care,

·       who do amazing, heroic things in times of crisis

·       care for the people that are forgotten by the rest of the world.

You see, Jesus came to make disciples like Peter, James, John, Andrew and Bartholomew and all the rest. And then they led others, and they led others, like Tabitha and her friends who were widows, and in time they led others, and over generation to generation, the discipleship tradition led to us today.

And this week in Moore, OK, some people had their discipleship challenged big time.  People are facing some challenges of faith.  I had a friend write to me on Facebook this week and say:  how do I keep my faith in God when God allows bad things like this tornado to happen?  How can God let children die in a tornado?  It wasn’t just on Monday, it’s every day.

And I said to her:  I don’t believe God chooses to have some people die and other people not die in a tornado or a plane crash or anything else.  I don’t think it’s good theology to say that God needed another angel in heaven.  I think that the world is just set in motion.   But I don’t think God interferes with nature in order to interrupt who will die and who will not.  None of us is going to live forever in this physical world.  And even though we have the promise of eternal life, it’s always hard when someone dies, an older person, or a child, because we miss them.  

We wish for a miracle like the friends of Tabitha got.  But disciples do not lose faith in the face of a horrific tragedy like Moore, OK.  We may doubt for a while.  That’s okay. But then we lean into God.  You see, God is right there with the people of Moore, this week. God is weeping with the mothers and fathers who lost their children, and with the others who lost a brother or sister or parent or grandparent or friend.  God knows our sorrow and God suffers with us.  It’s part of human experience that we’re not going to live forever.

And God is inside all of those brave and courageous disciples living in Moore who did what they had to do to care for their neighbors and who are now going through the hard work of clean up and rebuilding.  Without trust and faith in someone greater than themselves, the work of recovery from such a crisis would be almost unbearable.  God will see those disciples in Moore through this tragedy.

I know that the word “disciple” is probably not one used in your day-to-day vocabulary.  But I want to invite us to reclaim it.  Being a disciple is a strong identity.  It means that we “get” the ways of Jesus.  Someone (or more than one person) has modeled for us the ways of Jesus and we said “yes” to this life.  Someone did that for Tabitha.  Who in your life has been a disciple and has shown you how to be like Jesus?  Can you picture that person?

Someone did that for Tabitha and then she began to use her gifts to help and care for others.  She began to “disciple” (using the word as a verb now) the widows and they became disciples.  So my question for you is this:  Who are you discipling?  For whom are you modeling the ways of Jesus – compassion, forgiveness, joy, generosity, humility and all the rest, so that they will claim this way of being a disciple?  So that they can see Jesus in you?   Can you see a picture of that person in your mind?

If you see the person, I want you to pray for that person every day this week, and be intentional about what it means to be a mentor for that person as a disciple.  If you don’t see anyone then I invite you to pray every day this week, and ask God to show you the person that God wants you to mentor as a disciple.

What is a disciple?  A disciple is someone who helps and cares and is ready at all times to use their gifts to encourage others.  A disciple trusts in God, and a disciple is always looking for someone new to disciple because there is always someone else out there who needs God.  So this week, I challenge you to be a disciple by mentoring someone else along the way toward being a disciple.  Someone did it for you, and now it is your turn.  Amen.