Author: Rev. Wells

LAKEWOOD UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST
2601 54th Avenue South  St. Petersburg, FL  33712
On land originally inhabited by the Tocabaga
727-867-7961

lakewooducc.org
lakewooducc@gmail.com

Date: April 9, 2023 Easter Sunday
Scripture Lesson: John 20:1-18
Sermon: Don’t Hold On
Pastor:  Rev. Kim P. Wells

When we see our two little grandsons, ages 2 and 3, the first thing we want to do is scoop the little darlings up in our arms and hug and kiss them.  But their wonderful parents are teaching them about consensual touch.  You need to consult with someone before you touch them.  Ask if it is ok.  Get permission.  So, when we see our grandsons, the older, verbal one, Soren, will ask, “Can I give you a hug, Grandma?”  “Can I hug you, Baba?”  It is so dear.  We went through these negotiations with the boys numerous times to help re-enforce what the parents are trying to teach, which we completely agree with.  Then we let the boys know that we are always receptive to hugs from them.  They can always hug us.  They don’t need to ask every time.  Of course we want to hug those little munchkins!

This morning we heard the unfolding story of Mary visiting the tomb of Jesus and becoming aware that he was not in the tomb, and then that she was having an encounter with him in the garden.  When Jesus addresses her by name, Mary, and she realizes who this is that she is conversing with, she, naturally, wants to embrace him.  Her dear friend and mentor, whom she thought was dead, is talking with her.  Yes, she was stunned and confused and at sea, but here is her loved one and she reaches out to hold him.  It was a natural impulse.  A reflex.   Completely and fully human.  Too instinctual, emotionally charged, impassioned, desperate, to think about asking, “May I give you a hug?”   

And then in the story there is the perhaps surprising response from Jesus, “Don’t hold on to me. . .”   Don’t hold on?  To the loved one you thought was dead.  Don’t hold on to me.  To the one who has freed you from 7 demons and given you a new life.  Don’t hold on to me.  To the one who has brought you closer to God.  Don’t hold on to me.  To the one who has embodied unconditional love to you and everyone else.  Don’t hold on to me.  

From one so loving this cannot be a rebuff but only an invitation.  Don’t hold on to me because I have more to do, more to give you, more to show you.  We’re not done.  We must move on to greater things.  

So we are shown that the power of the resurrection involves letting go; not holding on but moving on to greater things.  Mary must let go of her preconceptions and views about what is possible.  She must let go of her image of Jesus as a capable, insightful, deeply spiritual rabbi and healer so that he can be more than that to her and to the world.  

The story of the resurrection is a story inviting us to new life and hope beyond our wildest imaginings.  Regardless of our circumstances.  And, perhaps the worse our situation, the more powerful the resurrection can be.  The resurrection is about more than we could ask for or imagine.  And experiencing that power and hope can involve letting go of what we are holding on to that may be anchoring us when the winds of the spirit want to fill our sails and send us onward.   If we hold on to the past, to our preconceptions, we might miss out on what Divine Love is offering us.  Easter is definitely about ‘out of the box’ thinking.  Don’t hold on because that just might hold you back from experiencing the joy, wholeness, and love that Jesus is trying to give to us.  

So what might we be clinging to that is holding us back from experiencing the full force of new life, hope, and grace?  What are we holding on to?   Oh, so many things! 

Like Mary wanting to hold on to Jesus, and linger, and grieve, maybe we want to hold on to our limited conceptions of Jesus and to our image of what the church should be.  Maybe we want to hold on to our traditional understandings of faith.  Maybe we want to hold on to Easter as being all about the after life, being in heaven with God and with our loved ones for eternity.  But there is more, if we will open up to it. 

Maybe we are clinging to safety, certainty, and nostalgia when it comes not only to faith but to life in general.  Maybe we are holding on to a grudge or some kind of umbrage in a relationship.  Maybe we are holding on to stereotypes and that is keeping us from seeing real people.  Maybe were are holding on to the security of a power structure that excludes and privileges.  Maybe we are clinging to an economic system that needs to be transformed.  Maybe we are tied to a conception of the past that is not only incomplete but inaccurate.  What about those Confederate statues?  Maybe we are holding on to societal mores that diminish women  –  including expected toleration of unwanted touch.  I am in a book club with several lawyers and they try to avoid going into the law library at the courthouse because they are always getting groped by another lawyer or a judge.  Time for that consensual touch conversation.  So much to let go of!   

I read recently about a retired Episcopal priest who found a box of her papers and memorabilia from when she was in high school.  She remembers that she was distracted and not a very good student.  But she looked at her report cards and the grades were impressive.  All these years she has carried an image of who she was that is not accurate.  She had to come to terms with the damage that she had done to herself.  There can be a lot to let go of.    

Growing up, my grandmother lived with us.  It was the 60’s.  And she was enthralled with the singer Engelbert Humperdinck.  We had his records and she would play them over and over.  We even went to hear him at a concert at the Merriweather Post Pavilion outside Washington, D. C.  My parents and I went with my grandmother.  At one point in the concert, a middle aged woman sitting next to us whom we did not know, turned to my father and begged him to throw her up onto the stage.  We were sitting about midway back in the audience.  Apparently Humperdinck was quite the heart throb for a certain demographic.  The one song of his that I remember, and maybe you know it, too, is “Please Release Me.”  

Please release me, let me go

For I don’t love you anymore.

To waste our lives would be a sin.

Release me and let me love again.

It’s a croon about letting go of a past love and being freed to embrace someone new.  It’s about as sappy as you can get, but there is a message there.  We need to let go of the past, and its hold on us, to embrace a new future.   

Don’t hold on to me, Jesus tells Mary.  Jesus needs to be free to move on with his mission of loving all of creation for all time.  He has to spread his message that love is stronger than death.  He has to let us know that he is with us empowering us to be agents of love in the world – love of ourselves, love of others, love of enemies, and love of the Earth.  Don’t hold on to me – don’t hold me back, don’t hold me down, I am not finished.  I have more love to spread.  More light to shed. 

The story of the resurrection that we celebrate today is about God’s love being so powerful that it is able to overcome whatever is in the way.  It is about love that is stronger than even death itself.  Certainly love is stronger than our faults and grudges and small mindedness.   And greater even than the evil and the terror and the pain we cause ourselves and each other. 
And greater than the injustice and inequality that we perpetuate.  The Divine Love that we see in the resurrection is greater than all of that.  Don’t cling, don’t embrace, don’t hold on.  Especially to what is holding us back from life, full and free.  

Don’t hold on.  Especially to the fears that are holding you back.  Like some of you, I’m sure, I’m afraid of heights.  This condition developed for me when I was in my 30’s and it is still with me.  So, the last thing I would ever want to do is go sky-diving.  But in reading about an account by someone who has done it, I am so impressed by the transforming power of the experience –  of letting go.  

Leah Alissa Bayer tells of her first sky dive:

“First few seconds: Terrifying and full of panic. When I was pushed out of the plane I thought I had committed suicide. I was frantic and felt unbelievable regret. I’ve never felt more scared in my life.

“But a few seconds later things leveled out and I felt a rush of endorphins, exhilaration, and unparalleled excitement. Free fall is intense and I flipped from thinking I was dead to feeling like a rockstar.

“Then the chute hit, and everything was peaceful as we fell gently back down to the sand. I landed on Pismo Beach where a handful of friends cheered and welcomed me home.

“During that fall I had a tremendous personal breakthrough. I had been suffering extraordinary depression for many years with periodic suicidal thoughts. When I left that plane I felt like I had crossed that threshold and thrown my life away. But really, I was putting it in the hands of someone else, letting go, and it turns out everything was ok. More than ok. I realized I really do want to live. As I fell down to the shore I knew I belonged to the Earth below me – I wanted to be there. I have many more jumps to make before my time is done.”

Bayer concludes:

“I highly recommended skydiving as therapy to anyone that has suffered severe depression or suicidal thoughts/actions. It played a big role in changing my life.” [https://www.quora.com/What-does-it-feel-like-to-skydive]

Don’t hold on, Jesus tells Mary.  When we let go, there is more awaiting us than we could ever imagine.  Healing.  Hope.  Identity.  Unconditional love.  Even for ourselves.  New life.  Don’t hold on especially to what is holding you back.  Let the love flow!

Divine Love is begging to set us free.  Even from the power of death.  Pleading.  To release us into a reality of joy and peace.  Don’t hold on.  Let go.  Consent!   Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

LAKEWOOD UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST
2601 54th Avenue South  St. Petersburg, FL  33712
On land originally inhabited by the Tocabaga
727-867-7961

lakewooducc.org
lakewooducc@gmail.com

Date:  April 2, 2023  Palm Sunday
Scripture Lesson: Matthew 21:1-11
Sermon: On Earth as It Is in Heaven
Pastor:  Rev. Kim P. Wells

There’s a well known folk tale, shared in several religious traditions as well as many cultures, about the difference between heaven and hell.  Here’s a version of the story:

Long ago there lived an old woman who had a wish. She wished more than anything to see for herself the difference between heaven and hell.  Her request was granted.  She saw before her two doors.   

She opened the first door and immediately the aroma of delicious food filled her nostrils.  Before her there was a great dining room and a large dining table and in the middle of the table was a large pot of steaming stew that smelled delicious!

There were people seated around the table.  Their bodies were thin and their faces were gaunt and creased with frustration. The atmosphere was angry and hostile.  The people were muttering and lashing out at each other.  Each person held a spoon. The spoons were very long.  Maybe three feet long.  They were so long that the people could reach the spoon into the stew in the pot but they could not get the food into their mouths because the spoons were so long.  As the woman watched, she heard their hungry desperate cries. They were miserable.  

”I’ve seen enough,” she cried. “Please let me see heaven.”

She opened the second door and immediately the aroma of delicious food filled her nostrils.  Before her there was a great dining room and a large dining table and in the middle of the table was a large pot of steaming stew that smelled delicious just like in the room before!  She was confused.

She looked more closely.  There were people seated around the table.  But they were plump, well fed, they were smiling and happy, busy talking and laughing.  Each person had the same very long spoon.  Maybe three feet long!  They could not feed themselves with that long spoon.  But the people around the table were dipping their spoons into the pot of delicious stew and feeding each other!

Now the woman understood the difference between heaven and hell.  

This classic story gives us an image of heaven in which everyone takes care of each other.  Everyone is compassionate.  Everyone is provided for.  Everyone gives and receives.  To me it echoes the beautiful verses from the gospel of John:  “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Abba’s house there are many dwelling places.  If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you.” [John 14:1-2]

We think of heaven as a place where everyone is provided for and cared for.  No one is belittled or left out or struggling to make it.  It is a place of peace and harmony.  No cares and no worries.

And in the prayer that we repeat at least weekly in church, the Savior’s prayer, there is the line, ‘on Earth as it is in heaven.’  We envision the reality of God extended from the realm of heaven, however we may imagine that, to the realm of our earthly lives.  And that is what Jesus’ life and ministry is about.  As above, so below, as it is said in indigenous traditions.  Jesus is about making life on earth as it is in heaven, a construct of reality completely consistent with the love of God.  

In our faith tradition, we remember Jesus declaring, the realm of God is among you.  The reality of God is within you.  

Jesus brings heaven to earth.  He closes the gap between the reality of God in heaven and the reality of God here on earth creating a reality on earth where everyone is loved and cared for. So the reality of God isn’t just about some distant meta-verse in the sweet bye and bye, but about life here on earth, now.

And so Jesus feeds.  Everyone.  Jesus forgives.  Everyone.  Jesus heals.  Everyone.  And, maybe most importantly, Jesus befriends.  Everyone.  Including the nasty, despicable, outcasts and disreputable people; the poor and rejected ones.  It wasn’t just about a hand out to them.  He hung out with them.  Jesus creates inclusive, egalitarian community.   Everyone a precious beloved child of God.  Each one a unique expression of the image of an infinitely loving God.  

You see, in the story we began with, everyone has a spoon.  And they decide what to do with it.  And behind the second door they feed each other.  And everyone has enough.  And no one goes without.  As in heaven, so on earth.  With Jesus.  

Also notice in the folk story, no one sold the people the spoons.  There aren’t silver spoons.  There aren’t spoons to rent.  There aren’t spoons of different sizes and lengths.  Everyone is given a spoon.  The spoons are all the same.  And there is only one pot of delicious, nutritious stew.  Everything that is needed is provided.  

As above, so below.  This is an image of a reality in which people no longer take advantage of each other.  No longer benefit from the abuse of others.  No longer over power others for their own advantage.  No longer determine the station of others or the value of others.  There is no living at the expense of someone else.  Period.  There is no undermining the dignity and self determination of others.  There is no more taking advantage of labor.  No more easy manipulation of the masses.  

And people with power and wealth and privilege don’t like that reality because it does not favor them.  They do not come out on top because there is no ‘on top.’  In the reality of God, everyone gets what they need and it is enough.  And all are expected to serve as well as be served.  That reality was not generally accepted by those in power in Jesus day.  And it is not accepted by those in positions of power today.  Including those who claim to be religious authorities.  

Part of what upset people of the first century about the way of Jesus was that he was giving all the power to God, and that was taking power away from the people who were controlling the social and religious and economic systems that were holding sway.  The  systems that determined who got to make decisions.  And how life would be organized.  And what you had to do to keep your place in society.  And who would be the haves and who would be the have nots.  And in the first century, religious officials were holding a lot of that power and control.  Supposedly in the name of God.  And they did not like Jesus upsetting the hierarchy, patriarchy, and economy from which they were benefitting.  

And that’s why the authorities wanted Jesus killed.  He wasn’t killed because he was promising something in the next life.  He was killed because he was embodying the reality of God right here and now in this life.  As above so below.  

This week as we remember the last week of Jesus’ life we heard the story of how Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey.  This processional was a purposeful mockery of the traditional parade of imperial conquest led by a military leader astride a steed.  In the story from the gospel of Matthew that we read today, not only does Jesus ride a donkey, a beast of burden, hardly a strapping steed, but we are told it is a female donkey with a colt.  It is a donkey of lower status, female.  And she has a colt.  She is vulnerable.  So the story features not only a donkey, but the least and lowest of the donkeys, a mother and baby.  So like Jesus.  Always about reaching out to lift up the least and the lost.  Those cast aside, ignored, expendable.  

When Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated, British writer George Bernard Shaw commented, “It shows how dangerous it is to be too good.”  [Quoted in Listening at Golgotha, Peter Storey, p. 31.]

This week, we will retell the stories around Jesus’ death.  This is the week to remember that Jesus was killed because he gave himself to making life ‘on Earth as it is in heaven.’  Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

LAKEWOOD UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST
2601 54th Avenue South  St. Petersburg, FL  33712
On land originally inhabited by the Tocabaga
727-867-7961

lakewooducc.org
lakewooducc@gmail.com

Date: Feb. 19, 2023
Scripture Lessons: Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18 and Matthew 5: 38-48
Sermon:  Glory!
Pastor:  Rev. Kim P. Wells

I would like to tell you about September 18, 2022.  For me, this was day 18 of walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain.  The Camino is a pilgrimage that has numerous routes that converge at the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain.  It is said that the bones of Sant Iago, James, the brother of John, of the sons of Zebedee, disciple of Jesus, are buried in the cathedral.  The pilgrimage to Santiago was one of the three great pilgrimages of the middle ages.  The others were Rome and Jerusalem.  Today, well over 300,000 people a year make a pilgrimage to Santiago though for most it is no longer done as penance.  

This was our third Camino.  We were on the Del Norte route which follows the coast of northern Spain.  First a few generalities about walking the Camino, then I will tell you about September 18.  You follow yellow arrows or scallop shell signs that mark the route.  The path is through the forest, along the beach, through the fields, along the roads, through cities and towns.  There are all kinds of walking surfaces and terrain.  There is a lot of up and down on this route.  You determine your pace and the distance you will go each day.  You carry everything in a backpack.  We stay mostly in hostels with bunkbeds that are open only to peregrinos, pilgrims walking the camino, and cost 5-10 euros a night.  

So, to September 18.  We woke up in Columbres in the hostel.   I had been assigned a top bunk, doable but not preferable.  But Katie, a young woman from England, who had been assigned to the bottom bunk, insisted on switching.  I think there were 4 bunk beds in the room.  Eight people.  The hostel had several such rooms and a nice grassy yard.  There were the usual shared bathrooms.  So, we woke up ready for another day of walking.  

We headed through the town.  Then the fields.  Then another town.  And along a paved road.  Then into the forest and down to a rock strewn beach.  I stopped there for lunch and watched an older couple swim in the frigid water.   From the beach, it was up a steep embankment through the woods to the fields.  Then the path veered across a road and into a pasture along the cliffs bordering the sea.  The grass was a vibrant green.  We walked on narrow dirt paths encrusted with rocks that had been created by the cows traversing the pastures.  We were probably 150 feet above the sea which was crashing against the rocky coast below.  We had to climb over turnstiles in the fences that kept the cattle enclosed.  I had fallen into walking with a man named Dan from Michigan whom we had met a couple of weeks before.  He helped me over the gates.  We went through another small town.  And down a road.  Dan went on ahead. 

It was late in the afternoon.  We usually walk 6 hours or so and are done by 2 or 3.  It had been about 8 hours.  I was ready to be done for the day.  We had planned to stay in a hostel in a small city called Llanes.  By now, I figured Jeff, my husband, and my brother, Mark, were there.  I am always the slowest!   

Then a town came into view on the right.  Ah, Llanes at last, I thought.  Not much farther.  But the path veered off to the left.  Across a road.  And the town was off to the right.  Hm.  Then the path went farther to the left.  And there was a huge hill/mountain.  And the path did not circumnavigate the base of this mountain.  It went up the mountain.  Huh?  Wasn’t that Llanes, over there, on the right?

Evidently not.  So, I headed up.  A dirt path.  And up.  And up.  Late in the day.   And no sign of Llanes which was supposed to be pretty big.  Through the woods.  Onward and upward.   Tired.  Knees aching.  And light fading.

Then, after cresting the mount, there was a vista of farms and fields below.  And there in the distance was Llanes.  Finally.  So, I walked all the way down the far side of the mountain on the winding path.  Then across the fields.  And into the outskirts of Llanes.  And through the city streets.  And across a bridge over a river.  And through more of the city.  Where was the hostel?  How much farther?   The street lights were coming on.  It was after 7.  I had been walking for 11 hours.  And then I got a message from my brother.   “I’m at the albergue [hostel].  It’s okay.  A little farther down the street than you might expect.  Look for a building that looks like it might be a school on your right and the Hotel Don Paco one building into the block.  Turn right and you will see the albergue on your left.”  My response:  “Coming.”  So, after everything else, the place was on the far side of the city, past the residential neighborhood, the working class area, over the river through the chi chi downtown with restaurants and boutiques, past the government buildings, and a hotel, and finally, the hostel.  

And, of course, we were assigned to a room on the second floor, which in Europe means the third floor, and there was no elevator.  Ah, my poor knees!  But I got there.  And up I went.  No sooner had I laid down on the bed to regroup when my brother informed us, “I’m hungry.  Come on.  Let’s go out to eat.”  So, back down the stairs.  Out the door.  And through the city, across the bridge, to a little restaurant with outdoor tables.  I had walked past the place about an hour before.  And after dinner we walked back to the hostel.  

Now, when I hear this, I think, that was horrible.  Grueling.  How did I do it?  It must have been awful.  

But that is not how I remember that day.  Even at the time, let alone thinking back on it, I thought the day was glorious.  The stunning views of the sea.  The secluded pebbled beach.  The water spraying up into the air through the crevices in the cliffs called bufones.  Fantastic!  The gorgeous views from the top of the mountain – with the sea off to one side and the mountains off to the other, with verdant farms and fields in between.  Llanes nestled along the coast.  And a clean bed, good food, and amicable companions waiting at the end of the day.  It was glorious!  Strenuous?  Yes.  Painful?  Yes.  Arduous?  Yup.  Long and drawn out?  Exhausting?  Uh huh.  But also magnificent.   And for me, every day of walking was a miracle considering what I had been through with my heel surgeries in the year before.  Colombres to Llanes.  25 kilometers.  Over 15 miles.  Glorious.  Bring it on!

So we heard those two scriptures today with all those guidelines and rules for how to live including but not limited to: 

Do not steal.  

Do not lie.  

Do not cheat your neighbor.

Do not show partiality to the poor or give honor to the great.

Do not nurse hatred for a neighbor.

Never seek revenge or hold a grudge toward your relatives.

You must love your neighbor as yourself.

When someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn and offer the other. 

Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go two miles.  

Give to those who beg from you.

Love your enemies and pray for your persecutors.

And we think, I could never do all of that.  I could never adhere to all of that.  It’s just too hard.  We can’t do it.  

But then you try.  And it is hard.  And it takes its toll.  But you see the view.  You get a vista.  Laid out before you.  Of what you are capable of.  Of the beauty of love.  Of the power of compassion.  And the strength of justice.  You see the blessing of generosity.  You experience these things along the way, even when it is hard.  Especially when it is hard.  And it is glorious.  And you realize that you can do it.  

This is what I see in the story of the transfiguration.  Jesus heads to the mountain.  So we know there will be an encounter with holiness.  And there is a vision of the vista ahead.  To Jerusalem.  And the death that awaits him.  And he can do it.  He will do it.  Not easy.  Not fast.  Not efficient.  Not without pain.  But he will do it.  And it will be right and good.  And it will be glorious.

We, too, are on a journey.  Each of us.  As individuals.  And we are on a journey as a society, a culture.  And the way is long.  And it is strenuous.  It is not easy.  We are making our way to an antiracist society.  We are making our way toward healing of body and spirit and the healthcare system.  We are making our way toward economic justice and financial stability for all.  We are making our way toward reconciliation and forgiveness in difficult relationships.  We are making our way toward environmental healing.  The way is long and it is not easy.  It is arduous.  Even defeating at times.  But we see the vista.  We catch a glimpse of the beauty of a world free of abuse and harm and violence.  We see a bubbling up of mercy and love.  We catch a glimmer of equality.  We see a torrent of compassion or outrage.  And there is the ever present beacon of the light and love of Christ.  And we can keep going.  And it is glorious.  Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

LAKEWOOD UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST
2601 54th Avenue South  St. Petersburg, FL  33712
On land originally inhabited by the Tocabaga
727-867-7961

lakewooducc.org
lakewooducc@gmail.com

Date:  Feb. 26, 2023
Scripture Lesson: Matthew 4:1-11
Sermon: The Desert
Pastor:  Rev. Kim P. Wells

Many of us are here, as in here in Florida, because we love the lush, tropical environment.  We are captivated by the greenery – the trees, shrubs, vines, flowers, and other plants of so many different kinds!  I came to Florida for the first time when I was twenty and I was so taken with the vegetation that I was determined not to wait until I retired to move here.  The warm and wet surroundings along with the humidity, mold, mildew, and all the rest, produce tropical foliage that is enchanting.  

But this morning we heard about a much different natural environment.  So what is this about the desert?  About going out into the desert?  For centuries people of many different cultural traditions have headed to the desert for spiritual growth and enlightenment.   

The deserted, dry, apparently barren, landscape is free of human constructs, customs, and culture that can shape and mold us (the other kind of mold) in ways that are not consistent with the purposes of Divine Love.  

In the desert, there can be the opportunity to leave much behind. To get away from the constraints of power systems and expectations that limit us.  It is an opportunity, apart, alone, to explore the geography of the soul.  

In the book, The Forgotten Desert Mothers:  Sayings, Lives, and Stories of Early Christian Women, Laura Swan describes how the process of spiritual transformation unfolded for early Christians who sought out the desert experience.  Swan tells us:

“The desert ascetics began by fasting from food, possessions, and social relationships.  They then progressed to fasting from interior attachments, such as anger, jealousy, envy, or possessiveness.  The desert ascetics understood that fasting creates the space in our bodies, minds, and spirits for God to be within us, for new things to grow.”  [p.45]   Sounds pretty lush.  The desert clearly has its own fecundity when it comes to matters of the spirit.  

Without the distractions of culture, society, customs, pressures, and power arrangements, the desert provided a setting for a  transformational experience with the God/Love at the core of your being.  Jesus stands in a long tradition of people who went to the desert to remove themselves from the social order in order to become more pure in heart; more completely focussed on God, Love.

So Jesus goes to the desert, not just to get away from things but to see more clearly and confront whatever it is that may be pulling him away from being completely and wholeheartedly devoted to the purposes of Love.  

And we notice that Jesus was sent to the desert.  He was directed to go to the desert so that he could have this experience of growing his spirit and rooting himself completely in Divine Love.  He needs this experience, this challenge to prepare him for his ministry in which he will be continually confronting the power of evil with the power of love.  

Let’s take a moment to reflect on the three temptations that are mentioned in the gospel:  Food.  Trusting God to help you.  And doing the most good you can.  These things don’t seem ‘bad’ in and of themselves like  –  kill this person who doesn’t agree with you to get them to stop thwarting the gospel.  Or steal from this person and you’ll be rich, rich, rich.  Or have sex with this person’s wife.  There is nothing clearly morally, ethically wrong in this story.  Nothing like that. 

These temptations all have the potential of doing good.  Food.  Taking care of the body.  Drawing attention to Jesus and the gospel so that more people learn of God’s love.  Amassing power to be used for justice.  These are not bad things.  Yet because they are not of God, not done out of love, Jesus must resist them and learn to depend on God, on love, and love alone.  Often things that distract us from growing in our spiritual life are not bad in and of themselves, but they are not the things that we need to grow stronger in our devotion to Love.

It is also interesting to note that the way Jesus resists these three temptations puts Jesus in solidarity with those made poor, with those who are being taken advantage of, and with those who are being manipulated.  Jesus is told to make stones into bread.  Food.  Yet he chooses to stay hungry, remaining in solidarity with those who have no food, or not enough food, and there were many in his day.

Jesus is offered the chance to be part of a spectacle that could call attention to the saving power of God.  But then where is the spectacle to save others who are perishing?  Jesus stays in solidarity with those who do not get magically plucked out of harm’s way.

And then there is the offer of political power.  Power and wealth that could be used to do much good.  But Jesus remains in solidarity with those who do not have access to worldly power.  

Jesus stays in solidarity with those who are without food, without power, and who are not getting rescued. He does not cave in to the devil’s offerings.  

And interestingly, later in his ministry, God gives Jesus the power to feed the hungry, to empower those who are oppressed and abused, and through his death and resurrection, he is able to draw attention to the power of the saving love of God.  So Jesus ends up doing all the things that the devil suggests but he does them when they are ordered by God not the devil.  He does them to help others not to help himself.  It is not about his acquiring power and glory and comfort, but about offering the saving power of Love to others, especially those who are made poor, those who are in the underclass, those who are marginalized, sidelined, and forgotten.  

Jesus does feed the poor, save and rescue people, and does use his power for the good of others trying to develop new social systems, relationships, and systems of power that provide for everyone.  He does those things out of his grounding in the heart of God not because he is tempted to do them for personal acclaim.  He does them in a way that does not enmesh and entangle him with motives other than love.  He does not do them out of a desire for self preservation or self promotion.

In the desert, Jesus engages challenges that prepare him, make him stronger, help him stay focussed, so that he can live his life of meaning and purpose and service driven by Divine Love and that Love alone. 

So the intent of the time in the desert is not necessarily to make Jesus suffer but the intent is for him to become more grounded and focussed in the abundance of Love. 

For many of us we look at the desert and it looks dry and barren.  But there is more to the desert as we see in this story.

Kay Rencken from our congregation has lived in the desert in Tucson, Arizona for many, many years. And while the desert may look bleak to an outsider, or a Floridian, there is much going on in the desert.  So I have asked Kay to say something to us this morning about the desert and how she finds beauty in the desert.

Comments from Kay.

So we often look at the season of Lent as a bleak time.  Maybe a time of suffering.  We may be giving something up — like single use plastics, or maybe we are living more simply in some way, maybe it is no meat on Friday, the origination of the Friday fish fry, maybe we’re fasting from social media, or patterns of behavior that distract us from being our full loving selves.  In Lent the sanctuary may seem bare.  We use the penitential color purple.  Things are more subdued.  We don’t use the word ‘alleluia.’  This season may seem a bit stark and bare.  

But let’s remember that the point of the Lenten season is not to endure suffering.  It is to grow in Love, to deepen our spiritual journey into our heart of Love.  We enter the lenten journey to find the beauty of life in God, in the reality of God, that can be found no where else.  And what we find is all that we need for the living of our days.  

Desert Mother Anna Syncletica from Egypt puts it this way:  

“In the beginning there are a great many battles and a good deal of suffering for those who are advancing towards God and afterwards, ineffable joy.  It is like those who wish to light a fire; at first they are choked by the smoke and cry, and by this means they obtain what they seek: so we also must kindle the divine fire in ourselves through tears and hard work.” [p.43] May this Lenten season bring us to the ineffable joy of life lived more fully in the reality of God.  Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

LAKEWOOD UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST
2601 54th Avenue South  St. Petersburg, FL  33712
On land originally inhabited by the Tocabaga
727-867-7961

lakewooducc.org
lakewooducc@gmail.com

Date:  March 12, 2023
Scripture Lessons:  Exodus 17:1-7 and John 4:5-42
Sermon:  Dried Up?
Pastor:  Rev. Kim P. Wells

One of our extravagant indulgences as a household is to have a pool service clean our pool each week.   We started it one year when we were away for an extended time, and just never stopped it.  It’s pretty nice to have the pool cleaned once a week – especially our pool which is overhung with trees in our woodsy backyard.

The person who comes to clean the pool changes frequently.  The guy doing it now has been coming for over a month – a long stint for us.  So, when he came this week, Jeff, my spouse, went out to greet him.  They got to talking.  Not a surprise since Jeff is gregarious and so is the pool guy.  I could hear them conversing in the backyard.  I glanced though the window and they are both working at cleaning the pool. . .  When he came in, Jeff told me about the young man.  And I want to share one part of his story with you.

Apparently, when the young man was in high school, a teacher, yes, a teacher, told him flat out – You’re not going to go anywhere.  You might as well drop out.  Stop coming to school.  Yes, a high school teacher in the public schools here in Pinellas County told him that.  And just for the record, he is not Black.  You’re not going anywhere.  Just stop coming.

Now, before we go on, I want to acknowledge that being a teacher is an extremely stressful profession.  It is a very hard job.  And it takes its toll in many, many ways.  And there is little to no support for many teachers – from the school, the educational system, the government, maybe even from their family.  So we want to have compassion for the teacher who gave the young man that discouraging assessment of his future.  

I also want to say that here at LUCC we have had many teachers in the congregation, active and now some retired.  And it has been part of our mission as a church to be a community of support for those teachers so that they can do their best in their ministry of teaching and supporting the growth and maturation of the students.  This is important to our church because we know that being a teacher is not easy and that many forces undermine the hopes and dreams of those who go into teaching with the desire to be an influence for good in the lives of the students.

So, our pool cleaning technician was told he wasn’t going to amount to much.  So, you know what he did?  First he changed schools.  And then, he did as the teacher advised.  At 15 he simply stopped attending school all together,   And did not go back.  And has never graduated.  No GED.  He is 33.  

This young man was told that he was worthless.  Useless.  A burden?  An annoyance?  From the story we heard from the gospel of John this morning, we can well imagine that the woman in the story who came to the well had also been told, maybe not in so many words, that she was worthless.  Useless.   Maybe even a burden.  Certainly an annoyance.  

You see, she was coming to the well at noon.  That is a HUGE red flag.  Going to the well for water was an important social event for the women of the village.  The women would all go to the well at the same time, in the cool of the morning, or the cool of the evening.  It was a time to gather, to visit, to exchange stories.  To talk about their kids.  And their husbands.  Trade recipes.  To give and receive support and comfort and advice.  It was a time of community and connection.  But in the story, the woman who engages with Jesus comes to the well at midday.  In the heat of the day.  Because, well, she was not wanted, not welcome, among the women of the village.  Why?  Because of her many relationships?  Again, 6 partners?  Was she cast off?  Unwanted?  By the men in her life?  Or was there something else?  We don’t know.  But we are told that she is an outcast from her village, her community.

We are also told in the story of the hatred between the Samaritans and the Jews.  That stemmed from an historic difference, centuries old, about where God should be worshiped.  Now, they were bitter enemies.  

And Jesus was a man.  A man did not talk with a woman outside of the home in that cultural context, except perhaps to a family member.  So an interaction between a man and a woman, strangers, in public, was absolutely forbidden according to religious and cultural customs.  

When the disciples return and find this conversation going on, at the well, at noon, between Jesus and a Samaritan woman, they are aghast.  They don’t know where to start – “. . . no one dared to ask, ‘What do you want of him?’ or ‘Why are you talking with her?’”  This encounter was so shocking, the normally loquacious disciples are driven to stunned silence.  

To a Jewish man, this woman is nothing less than despicable – beyond worthless, useless; she was an annoyance, and a burden.  

Yet, we have been given this story.  Of Jesus.  A Jewish man.  The Messiah.  Initiating an encounter with this woman.  The story relates one of the longest conversations in the gospels between Jesus and another person let alone a woman.  And it is an involved conversation.   Not only about the well and her husbands, practical matters.  In the womanly sphere.  But there is an in depth theological discussion.  About the Samaritans and the Jews.  About the Messiah.  About the history of their faith and its scriptures and stories.  Jesus makes a clear declaration of his identity to this useless, annoying woman.  He offers his gift of living water, Love which satisfies, heals, connects, includes, sustains, refreshes, validates, and affirms, to this woman who has been told that she is worthless and seems to have yet to experience a trustworthy love in her life. 

The woman then becomes the first evangelist in this gospel.  She  leaves her clay jar and invites the town, populated with people who have hated her and vilified her and ostracized her, to meet this religious teacher.  She invites the village to hear about this living water.  She immediately shares the gift that she is given.  Because, of course, it is true Love, and true Love must be shared, given away, spread, disseminated, with profligate abandon.  

In the orthodox Christian tradition, the woman at the well has been given a name, Photini.  It means, ‘the enlightened one.’ She is honored with a saint day.  She is revered in readings and song.  

The story from John tells of a person who was no one, or even less than no one, that became someone through the love of Jesus.  Someone who was not supposed to amount to anything, someone useless, worthless, someone who wasn’t going to go anywhere, has an encounter with Jesus, and evangelizes her whole town, and is remembered and revered.  

In the Torah, God calls the Hebrew people out of obscurity, away from the fleshpots of Egypt, to become a blessing to the world – to give the world the living water of Divine Love, compassion and justice.  The Hebrews are led away from the familiar customs, material comforts, and power arrangements that they know and understand.  To create something new.  And it is not an easy transition.  In the story from Exodus, the people are clambering for water.  Give us water.  Give us water.  And through Moses, God gives them what they need.

In the story of the woman at the well, again we see a story of Divine love drawing people away from the customs, comforts, and power arrangements that they have come to know and understand.  Into new territory.  

This involves giving up what they have come to know and appropriating a different worldview, different assumptions, it is an invitation to a new realty.  The reality of the commonwealth of God.  Which includes everyone.  No exceptions.  Even a promiscuous woman from an enemy nation.  

There are so many people thirsty today – for love, for meaning, for purpose, for connection, for validation, for respect.  Today, so many people feel alienated from their true humanity, from Divine Love, and certainly from religion.  

And this is the reason that the church exists:  To engage those who are cast aside, vilified, forgotten, devalued, and disrespected.  And to share the living water, Divine Love, with all.  The mission of the church is to let people know that they are loved, all people.  We are here to give the living water that sustains and refreshes everyone.  

Yet, often the church seems to be contributing to the disrespect of humanity, to the divisions that cause harm and that undermine the universal, unconditional, eternal love of God.  The church often seems to stemming the flow of the living water instead of taking it to those who are thirsty.

When we are in Spain walking the Camino de Santiago and we see the ornate gold adorning the sanctuaries of so many churches, we are continually reminded of the church’s role in subjugating peoples of other lands.  The riches of Mexico glitter in Spain.  The church has a long history of appropriation and of subjugation.  And this continues in the church today.  Much of the church still does not ordain women.  Along with sexism, racism is alive and well in the church.  The church perpetuates patriarchy and the damage it causes.  Much of the church continues to try to blame and control women’s bodies.  The church continues to devalue non-Western cultures and to impose culture along with religion.  The church also contributes to the dehumanization of people who are not cisgender, people whose sexual orientation or gender identity doesn’t fit narrowly defined norms created and imposed by society including much of the church.

All of this and more is in direct conflict with the legacy of the gospel of Jesus – the living water offered fully and freely to the woman at the well and others who are considered less than, other, deviant, unworthy.  

In the book Eve’s Pilgrimage, there is a beautiful description of the flowing of living water at a jubilee concert in Rome around the turn of the millennium when there was a focus on international debt reduction.  Author Tina Beattie offers this description of the concert: 

“The evening began with an Iranian Muslim Women’s ensemble singing verses from the Qur’an, and for the next two hours we were swept up in a celebration of music and dance that seemed to emanate from a different universe to the baroque extravaganza of the basilica next door.  Here, the extravagance lay not in the brash proclamation of Rome’s power frozen in marble and bronze but in the human body and voice — the female body and voice — transformed into a living icon of praise.  Peruvian dancers, American sopranos, a Filipino choir, African, Polish and Romanian musicians, Korean women like bright butterflies in their national dress — that night the Vatican was truly catholic, and woman was truly incarnate.  The evening ended with a group of young Italian ballet dancers, dressed in slinky costumes in the colours of the jubilee logo.  As they writhed sinuously up the steps and arched their backs and raise their arms to the risen Christ [The Paul VI concert hall, where the concert was held, contains a vast bronze sculpture of the resurrection.], I wanted to pinch myself.  Could this possibly be happening on the Pope’s doorstep?  This was Eve risen, redeemed, beautiful, sexy, dancing where she should always have danced, in the heart of Christ’s Church on earth.”  [In Resources for Preaching and Worship: Year A, Quotations, Meditations, Poetry, and Prayers, compiled by Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild, pp. 18-19.]

That is the living water that Jesus offers.

Jesus does not treat the woman at the well like a second class citizen, less than.  She is not considered different.  She is not ‘othered.’  In fact, in the story, Jesus seeks her out so we can see what it is to be truly freed of all that separates, divides, diminishes, and drains.  And he offers the refreshing, sustaining, transforming, life giving water of Divine Love specifically to her. 

It is the Lenten season, so it is a time when we reflect on our spiritual life.  We seek to be people of faith.  We are here in church.  We want to follow Jesus.  So we may be wondering, have we received this living water?  Is it sustaining us?  Is it refreshing us?  Are we saying yes to the Good News?

Well, we can look at our lives.  Do we seek out those who are different than we are?  Do we engage with those we do not agree with?  Are we involving ourselves with people from different cultures than ours?  And different religions?  And no religion?  How do we treat those from a different political party?  As enemy?  Less than?  Other?  Are we respecting and affirming the full humanity of women and girls?

Do we find ourselves reaching out?  Offering love?  Seeking understanding?  Are we giving affirmation?  Acceptance?  Validating the humanity of those considered less than, other, annoying, bothersome, burdensome?  Are we looking at others with compassion, seeking understanding?  That is Divine Love flowing through us.

If we are seeking to love our enemies and to engage with the ‘other’ than the living water of Divine Love may very well be flowing through us into the world where it is desperately needed.  

When we embody the gospel, as Jesus did, we find Divine Love flowing out from us.  A spring.  A fountain.  A river.  Not a stagnating pond.  Despite all the messages telling us we can’t make a difference.  It doesn’t matter.  Only money talks.  Things can’t change.  We aren’t going to amount to anything.  And when we reach out in Love, seeking to share the living water with others, we find that we ourselves are actually revived and refreshed.  We are made new by that spring of Divine Love.  Don’t be afraid of a dip in the pool!   Amen.  

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.