Is That the Messiah Sitting Next to You?

Rev. Jill Ann Terwilliger

Universalist Unitarian Church of East Liberty

September 13, 2003

 

The cream of enjoyment in this life is always impromptu.  The chance walk; the unexpected visit; the unpremeditated journey; the unsought conversation or acquaintance.

Fanny fern

 

Gathering

Welcome and Announcements

Bell Sound  A call to quiet and mindfulness

Prelude  Ron Rhees, pianist

Opening Words  “The Wild Geese” by Wendell Berry

Horseback on Sunday morning,

harvest over, we taste persimmon

and wild grape, sharp sweet

of summer's end. In time's maze

over fall fields, we name names

that went west from here, names

that rest on graves. We open

a persimmon seed to find the tree

that stands in promise,

pale, in the seed's marrow.

Geese appear high over us,

pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,

as in love or sleep, holds

them to their way, clear,

in the ancient faith: what we need

is here. And we pray, not

for new earth or heaven, but to be

quiet in heart, and in eye

clear. What we need is here.

 

What we need is here.  It is here because each of us has brought it here.  And when we come to this house of worship and celebration, we share it with each other.  As a symbol of the spirit that shines through this community, we light our chalice. 

 

Affirming

Chalice Lighting (unison)

May this flame, kindle within us

            The warmth of compassion

            The glow of love,

            The fire of commitment,

            The light of truth. 

 

*Hymn #346 “Come, Sing a Song with Me”

Joys and Concerns

We set aside this time each week to share the great joys and deep sorrows of our lives with the gathered community. 

If you woke this morning with something heavy on your heart, now is a time to share that burden, that we may be a help to one another.  If you woke this morning lifted by some great joy, now is a time to share that lightness, that we may be lifted by one another. 

Please stand, tell us who you are, and share your joy or sorrow.  I will light a candle to honor it.

(sharing) 

I light a final candle for all that remains unspoken but in our hearts.  May we each know that whatever befalls us in life, we are held in the loving embrace of this community.

*Response #519 ”Let me not pray …” Rabindranath Tagore

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,

But to be fearless in facing them.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain,

But for the heart to conquer it.

Let me not look for allies in life’s battle-field,

But to my own strength.

Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,

But hope for the patience to win my freedom.

Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling your mercy in my success alone;

But let me find the grasp of your hand in my failure. 

We never need be alone. 

We never need be perfect.

We never need be anything but truly human, here in this community. 

 

Gifts of the Congregation

Out of life’s generous bounty let us give a portion to support the ministry of this church, both within these walls and beyond, for ourselves and for generations to come, for we are the keepers of the dream.  We now give and receive the gifts of the congregation. 

 

Exploring

Readings

The Gospel of Matthew 25:31-40

When the son of Man comes in his glory and all the angels with him, he will sit in state on his throne, with all the nations gathered before him. … The king will say to those on his right hand, “You have my Father’s blessing; come, enter and possess the kingdom that has been ready for you since the world was made.  For when I was hungry, you gave me food; when thirsty, you gave me drink; when I was a stranger you took me into your home, when naked you clothed me; when I was ill you came to my help, when in prison you visited me.”  Then the righteous will reply, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and fed you, or thirsty and gave you drink, a stranger and took you home, or naked and clothed you?  When did we see you ill or in prison, and come to visit you?”  And the king will answer, “I tell you this:  anything you did for one of my brothers (or sisters) here, however humble, you did for me.” 

 

“The Messiah in the Abbey” an Hasidic Tale as told by the Reverend Sydney Kay Wild

 

Once there was an abbey with a long history of vitality and commerce between the surrounding villages and the spiritual community. But as time wore on, fewer and fewer villagers visited the hallowed halls. Fewer people turned to the brothers for counsel. Even the sale of the abbey's renowned wines began to dwindle. It was now a rare day that a young man would petition for admittance into the order, and the abbot began to despair for continuance of the brotherhood. “What should they do?" he wondered. They prayed daily for guidance, but the brothers only became more dispirited and run down. The abbey itself reflected their apathy, becoming only a shabby reminder of its previous grandeur. At last the Abbot, hearing that a Jewish rabbi, famous for his wisdom, was holding court in the nearby wood, in desperation swallowed his pride and went to visit the rabbi to ask his advice.

 

The abbot and the rabbi visited for a long time. They talked of their respective religions, of the ways of the outside world and of the Vagaries of the human spirit. The abbot explained his problem to the rabbi and asked for advice, but the Jewish sage only shook his head at the mystery of God's ways. As the abbot sadly departed, the rabbi suddenly rose and shouted after him, "Ah, but take heart my friend for the Messiah lives amongst you!"

 

All the way home the abbot pondered the rabbi's words, "The Messiah lives amongst you."  What could he mean? Did the Messiah live in the abbey? The abbot knew all the brothers very well. Could one of them really be the Messiah? Surely he, the abbot, was not the Messiah... Was it possible? he thought, squaring his shoulders.

 

Upon reaching the abbey the abbot confided the rabbi's words to Brother Alphonse, who promptly told Brother Francois, who was overheard telling Brother Pierre. Soon the whole abbey had heard the news. "The Messiah lives amongst us!" "Who do you suppose he could be?"

 

As each brother speculated on who the Messiah could be, his view of his comrades began to change. Brother Louis no longer appeared simple, but rather innocent. Brother Jacques was no longer uncompromising, but rather striving for spiritual perfection. The brothers began to treat each other with greater respect and courtesy; after all, one never knew when he might be speaking to the Messiah. And, as each brother discovered that his own words were taken seriously, the thought that he might become the Messiah would cross his humble mind. He would square his shoulders and attend his work with greater care and diligence befitting his divine potential.

 

Soon the neighboring villages began to notice the change that had come over the abbey. The brothers seemed so happy; they took such pride in deep reverence. Villagers flocked to the abbey and were energized by the spirit of the Brothers; they, too, left the abbey with a sense of specialness. And so the spirit grew and the abbey flourished.  Young men traveled from all over the land to petition admittance to the order. As each new brother was welcomed, the question arose, "Could he be the Messiah?"

 

I am told that today the abbey still prospers and that it is whispered both within its walls and in the surrounding towns that the Messiah lives amongst them.

 

 

Sermon           Is That The Messiah Sitting Next To You?

 

The other day I had coffee with a Rabbi friend of mine.  We talked about our congregations and the joys and troubles of serving them.  We talked about the cynicism and fear in the world today, and how it was creeping into our religious communities, how people were turning inward, thinking only of getting their own needs met come the Sabbath.  We talked until our words ran out.  Then, feeling comforted at least by our sharing, if not by finding any solutions, we parted ways.  As we each turned to head for church and temple, the Rabbi turned and said over her shoulder, “take heart, the Messiah lives among you.” 

 

The messiah lives amongst us, hear at East Liberty?  Here where only some believe in God, where even fewer are Christian or Jewish, and where, well, I don’t know if any believe a messiah will come some day?  It seemed incredible, but worth some consideration, for my friend is a wise woman.

 

I went home and consulted my books.  I figured my friend couldn’t have meant her words literally, that the messiah lived among us.  I’m pretty sure it’s not me, and it doesn’t quite seem like it’s any of you, so I figured she meant it as a metaphor. 

 

My books tell me that messiah means “anointed one.”  In ancient times, priests and prophets and governors and kings were “anointed” in the ceremonies that gave them their positions.  Today we have installations, inaugurations, ordinations.  Back then, people in these positions took their authority from the special relationship they had with God, and it was the anointment during the ceremony that gave them this relationship.  It made them “sacred” persons. 

 

The word messiah took on a little different meaning in the Hebrew world.  There, my books tell me, the messiah is God’s anointed one, the person chosen by God to arrive on earth at the end of the world, to lead the people as their king, free them from all oppression and injustice, and bring the kingdom of God to earth.  The messiah was God’s representative on earth.  Christians believe that Jesus was the Messiah promised in the Hebrew scriptures.  Christos – christ – is the Greek word for messiah. 

 

With this information in hand, I pondered the Rabbi’s words:  The Messiah lives among you.  What could it mean?  Insight continued to elude me, but I figured that just to be safe – like the Priest in the Abbey – I should change my ways.  However unlikely it seemed to me, I’d better start treating each of you as though you might be God’s representative on Earth. 

 

It meant I’d better listen to what you said as though it carried some great truth.  It meant I’d better accept your behavior as if it arose from a deep well of holiness.  It meant I’d better withhold judgment and give people the benefit of the doubt.  It meant I’d better make an effort to get to know those I don’t know well.  It meant I’d better treat every person who walked through the doors of this church – member, friend, visitor, relative – as though they might be the one to free this world from oppression and injustice.  And just to be safe, I’d better start acting as though my own words and actions were a reflection of my relationship to the most holy.  In short, I’d better make this place a hospitable place for the messiah to come and take up residence. 

 

****************

Speaking at a forum in Australia on refugees and asylum seekers, the Rev. David Pargeter reflected on how societies have dealt with strangers in their midst. 

As I look back over history (he says) it seems to me that societies, regardless of their culture or religion, have developed two primary ways of responding to what is foreign, or alien or strange.  They have either repulsed or welcomed.  Outlawed or in-lawed.  Killed or cuddled.  Embarked on war or engaged in welcome.  Used them for the construction of enemies or approached them as potential friends. 

Societies have responded in two ways, but the religions of those societies have all spoken a single message.  The Christian letter to the Hebrews says “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”  Muslims learn hospitality from the Qur’an where it says “They feed with food the needy wretch, the orphan, and the prisoner, for love of Him, saying, ‘We wish for no reward nor thanks from you.’”  The sacred texts of Jainism say “Charity – to be moved at the sight of the thirsty, the hungry, and the miserable and to offer relief to them out of pity – is the spring of virtue.”  And from the Talmud, Jews hear this message: “You shall walk after the Lord your God.  But how can a man walk after God who is a devouring fire?  It means, walk after His attributes:  clothe the naked, visit the sick, comfort the mourner, bury the dead.”  All these religions from around the world teach hospitality as a central sign of faithfulness. 

 

To explain why so many religious traditions teach hospitality as a virtue, the cynic in me would say, because it’s a better way to convert people – be nice to them!  But in my better moments, when I remember I might be the messiah and I stand up a little straighter, I think there are deeper reasons. 

 

I think there is a political reason.  Never in our cynicism should we pretend that religion and politics are unrelated.  Rev. Pargeter suggests that societies around the globe and throughout history have either chosen to repulse the stranger or welcome the stranger.  His essay continues by relating the practice of hospitality to national responses to the September 11^th terrorism. 

History, [he writes] especially modern history, has shown us that when a nation begins to construct enemies for its own political ends, then we are in for troubled times.  Hospitality is the antidote.  Xenophilia [love of the stranger] is the internal infra-structure needed to maintain it. 

 

In many ancient cultures, and in some modern ones, religious and political leadership were one and the same, and so the religious dictate to welcome and befriend was an important tool for maintaining the peace between nations.  Would that our own president would heed the teachings of his professed religion as he considers national and international relationships. 

 

I think there is also an ethical or moral reason hospitality is taught in so many religions.  Hospitality encourages reciprocity and humility.  I sometimes begin our time of Joys and Sorrows with words from George Odell which include these: “All our lives we are in need, and others are in need of us.”  Reciprocity.  Always we are both guest and host.  In humbleness we remember times when we were isolated or ignored, and someone brought us in from the cold.  We give that caring and generous reception back to others, and miraculously find ourselves enriched by the giving. 

 

Benedictine nun Joan Chittister has written “Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves.”  I think she means we let go of the particularities that divide us, we recognize our common humanity, our common needs, and our kinship with all that lives.  “Hospitality,” she says, “binds the world together.”

 

Finally, I think there is a spiritual reason.  I think religious traditions teach hospitality because religious and spiritual insight come when we make a place of welcome for it, when we are prepared to receive it, and when – some new idea or understanding having come through the door into our consciousness – we are willing to seriously consider its worth and truth, even if it is strange and discomforting to us.  Great religious teachings tend to be more challenging than comforting because they try to call us into our best selves and into a way of life that creates justice for all.  If we are only willing to consider the comfortable and familiar, our religion will be shallow, and our spirits will dry up.  Hospitality to new ideas keeps it interesting. 

 

******************

After days of pondering the words of the Rabbi – the messiah lives among you – this is the conclusion I’ve come to:  The messiah indeed lives among us, for each and every one of us is the messiah.  Each of us was anointed at birth with the blood of our mother.  Each of us is a “sacred” person.  Each of us has a special and unique relationship to the mysterious and life-giving power in the world; the power some call God, and some nature, and some Spirit, and some Friend, which is ultimately unnamable, but known by some deep longing.  Each of us is a representative of this unnamable God on earth.  Each of us has the power to free others from oppression and injustice. 

 

Public radio commemorated the anniversary of Mother Theresa’s death last week by saying that for many, she was the word God made flesh.  Saturday morning they read a letter objecting, the writer arguing that of course, Christ is the word made flesh, not Mother Therese.  I think the public radio commentator had it right in the first place.  I think that’s the meaning of the passage from the Gospel of Matthew:  whatever you do to my brothers and sisters, you do to me.  We are god made flesh.  We are the hands and feet of the unnamable holy working on this earth.  I believe this is true, but the power of it will be felt in our lives only if we make a place that welcomes the messiah spirit to flourish. 

 

So the answer to the question that is the title of this sermon “Is that the messiah sitting next to you?” the answer is an emphatic yes, even if you’re sitting next to someone dressed in a gorilla suit, or maybe then especially. 

 

May it be so.

May we make it so through our living. 

 

Music for Reflection

 

Returning

Reading by the Reverend William F. Schulz

This is the mission of our faith:

To teach the fragile art of hospitality;

To revere both the critical mind and the generous heart;

To prove that diversity need not mean divisiveness;

And to witness to all that we must hold the whole world in our hands. 

 

*Hymn # 318, We Would Be One

 

*Benediction

We are all one,

the hands and feet of the holy,

doing its work, OUR work,

on this earth each day. 

 

(in unison)  It is for today

            And for times we shall never see

            So let us be about the task

            The materials are very precious

            And they are very perishable

            May it be so. 

 

*Unison Closing Song

            Go now and live your religion

            It’s truth reflects in all you do

            Go, may love’s presence ever guide you

            Live the good life the whole day through.