call

Sermon: Moses

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 6 Comments

Author’s Note: This sermon was written for the installation of Kahu Keoki Kiwaha as Pastor of Puka’ana Congregational Church UCC in Captain Cook, Hawai’i. Unfortunately I fell ill and was unable to deliver it. I am deeply grateful to the Rev. Jonathan Roach for taking on that task, literally reading it in the car on the way to the church that Saturday morning.

Kahu Kiwaha has my best wishes and fervent prayers as he begins the work of his calling as Pastor and Teacher, and I look forward to many years of shared ministry.

January 13, 2024

Exodus 3:1-12
Luke 22:14-20, 24-27

When a kahu is first installed or ordained, they make the choice of the Scripture for that ordination or installation service. Other kahu look carefully at their selection, which most of the time, unsurprisingly, is a call story: one of the prophets, one or more of the disciples, perhaps an apostle. It says a lot about how they understand God’s call to them, about the ministry they believe they’ll undertake, even about their ongoing relationship with God.

So I eagerly awaited the word: whose call story would Keoki Kiwaha choose? And it was: Moses.

Wait. Moses?

Moses.

Oh, dear. Keoki, you poor unfortunate soul.

Moses had about as unwelcome a call, and as challenging a ministry, and as unsatisfactory a fulfillment of his ministry, as you can imagine. He was just out watching sheep, when the burning bush and the divine voice called. He was directed to perform the simple task of freeing the people of Israel from Pharoah, and later to guide them to their ancestral home. In the end, he died on a hilltop, gazing at the promised home that he would not reach.

Keoki, I am so sorry. And this certainly explains why you’ve been holding God’s call at arm’s length for so long.

Moses may hold the record for most protests offered to God by a summoned prophet. I count four. One: “Who am I?” Two: “Who are you?” – a good question when a deity starts giving you directions, actually. Three: “They won’t believe me or listen to me.” Four: “I’m a lousy public speaker.”

Four protests. Actually, four unsuccessful protests. Take note. God was more stubborn than Moses. God is more stubborn than you.

Cheryl Lindsay writes at ucc.org, “A common thread in biblical call narratives is the inherent insufficiency of the called. Some are reluctant due to the costs associated with the work. Others question that God is actually seeking them. Nearly all considered themselves ill-equipped for the assignment that God invites them to fulfill.” Dan Clandenin echoes that at JourneyWithJesus.net: “No one in their right mind would think themselves worthy or capable of that call — or any call, for that matter.  To speak the unspeakable.  To name the Unnameable. The presumption.  The audacity. The futility. To remove your sandals and stand on ‘holy ground.’”

Of course you’re not “worthy.” Who is? What you are is the one God called. You have everything you need, or you have the ability to learn everything you need, or you will grow into what you need, and what did God say when Moses asked, “Who am I?”

God said, “I will be with you.”

God says the same to you, Keoki.

Like Moses, you have things to learn. Please learn not to whine as much as Moses. My goodness, he could whine. Yes, the people are hungry. Yes, the people are thirsty. Yes, you don’t know how to find the food and the water not just to satisfy but to nourish them. But you don’t need to go to God and say, “They’re about to kill me.” If they are, God knows that and doesn’t need to be reminded. If they’re not – and they’re probably not – God knows that, too, and do you really need to hear the divine sigh that goes with the divine rolling of the eyes?

“The people are hungry and the people are thirsty and God, I don’t know what to do. I need your help.”

Why couldn’t Moses learn that prayer?

You could also learn to delegate better than Moses. It’s a low bar. One of his regular whines was that everybody depended on him. Because he was really bad at assembling a team of leaders to support his community. Who told him he needed help? Everybody. His family. His father-in-law. The elders he ought to have equipped. His designated successor, Joshua. God. I mean, everybody knew that Moses overdid it.

You have congregational leaders who have done this for a long time. I know that leads to the frustration of “We’ve always done it that way” – but you folks here at Puka’ana know not to say that, right? Some of the things we’ve always done that way – which haven’t always been done that way, just done that way in living memory and sometimes not even that – some of those things are done that way because they work. Some of them don’t work any more. Some of them never did work but it looked like they did. Together you’ll figure out what’s good, what’s better, and what we can leave behind because the past is where it belongs.

Moses… wasn’t good at that.

Moses also wasn’t good at getting support from other leaders around him. You have colleagues on this island, on other islands, and throughout the United Church of Christ. You have access to an educational system that has been equipping kahu for about four hundred years – which, I have to admit, sometimes falls into the category of “perhaps we ought to change this process just a lot.” Get the support you’ll need.

Moses wasn’t good at that.

He was good at staying centered in God’s call – eventually. He kept his focus on the freedom of his people. He kept his focus on their survival. He kept his focus on the standards by which they would live. He kept his focus on their journey with God. None of those tasks were easy, by any means. If Moses had gone after the frequent distractions, however, far too many of them might have failed.

Be clear in your call. That’s not a one-and-done. The fact that you’ve accepted a call to leadership in Christ’s Church at this moment does not define how you live out that call in the coming years. It will shift and it will change. The world’s needs are not constant, so God’s call is not changeless. God’s love, yes. The ministry you do to express God’s love: that is new with the dawn. Be clear in your call.

Moses’ first call was to human freedom. I think that may be a common element for most calls to ministry. Whether it is freedom of the body, or release of the mind, or the unburdening of the soul, God has consistently called prophets and apostles and a Messiah to set my people free.

Be clear in your call.

Remember that you are not Moses. You are Keoki. Keoki has strengths and abilities that Moses did not. You, for example, do not need somebody else to speak for you. You can sing like Miriam as well as speak like Aaron. So you don’t need to make Moses’ mistakes, either. You can make Keoki’s mistakes. I assure you that I’ve found it much easier to make Eric’s mistakes than those of Jeremiah, my own Biblical call icon.

Learn from Moses’ mistakes as well as his successes. Learn also from Keoki’s mistakes and from your successes.

You have a long road ahead, Kahu, and I suspect that like Moses’ journey, the one thing it will not resemble is a straight line. As Harry Chapin sang, “There’s no straight lines make up my life, and all my roads have bends.” Lean with the curves. Lean into the curves. Slow down where you have to, because roadside ditches are unpleasant and the plummeting cliffs that are their alternatives are worse. As I found one day on a road on Maui, sometimes you’ll have to back up and let others go by or things will go very badly indeed.

And… don’t be surprised when you don’t reach the Promised Land in this lifetime.

Commentators over the centuries have spilled a lot of ink over Moses’ death before he reached the Promised Land. Why why why didn’t he make it over the Jordan River? Was it fair? Was it right? Was it consistent with the mercy of God?

Our journey to the Promised Land, however, isn’t one that ends in this lifetime. In this lifetime, we labor and lead and preach and teach for a community that more closely resembles the Peaceable Realm of God. Nobody – including Moses, including Isaiah, including Jeremiah, including Ezekiel, including Mary, including Simon Peter, including Paul of Tarsus, including Jesus – have established the Peaceable Realm on Earth. People have gotten closer. People have stepped further away. But reached it? No.

With all the best wishes for your success in ministry and with all appreciation of your talents and with all anticipation of your growing skills, you’re not going to get there either. Not in this life.

It’s the grace of God that, in the end, sustains us throughout our Earthly journey. It’s the grace of God that, in the end, guides us in sight of our destination. It’s the grace of God that, in the end, makes the bridge from this life, through death, to the goal toward which we’ve labored. It’s the grace of God that, in the end, will bring us home.

Moses. Really? Well. God bless you.

God blessed the world when Moses was called. God blessed the world when Keoki was called. God bless us all as we find our freedom and make our way to God’s eternal home.

by Eric Anderson

The photo of Keoki Kiwaha (r.) presenting a lei to the newly elected General Minister and President of the United Church of Christ, the Rev. Dr. Karen Georgia Thompson, was taken in July 2023 by Eric Anderson.

Nathanael

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

“Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.’ Nathanael said to him, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ Philip said to him, ‘Come and see.'” – John 1:45-46

I made the journey down the Jordan
to hear the Baptist’s words, not Philip’s dreams.
Admittedly, if John had said he was
Messiah, I’d have turned my head.
But no. He told us he was just an echo
of Isaiah, straightening the roads.

Oh, Philip, my old friend. How many figments you
would follow! I am not so credulous.
Messiah? Here? Unlikely, don’t you think?
He’d either be upon the road, an army at
his heels, or hidden in a cave as David did.
Messiahs do not listen to a Baptist.

And he’s from where? From Nazareth?
Oh, Philip, you have lost your mind.
Can anything of good or right come out of there?
They’re all too ordinary, Philip, stuck
in their pursuit of daily bread.
You’ll never find Messiah in that place.

But now: you’ve told me, “Come and see.”
For friendship and for mercy, I will come.
Forgive me if the skeptic’s frown distorts my face.
I have no skill to wear deception’s mask.
Your Messianic man will know me when he sees me.
He’ll know I bring to him no thought of guile.

A poem/prayer based on John 1:43-51, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Second Sunday after the Epiphany.

The image is Nathanaël sous le figuier (Nathaniel Under the Fig Tree) by James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2008, 00.159.59_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195839.

Story: The Greatest

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 7 Comments
An ‘apapane who is not diving.

January 22, 2023

1 Corinthians 1:10-18
Matthew 4:12-23

Even when he was very young, they said of him, “This ‘apapane will be one of the greatest singers of his generation.” He had a sweet and true voice, with an ability to produce trills that were faster than anyone had ever heard before. He had a range from mauna to makai, high notes to low notes, and each one was pitch-perfect and noteworthy.

“Such a singer,” sighed the aunties and the uncles and the tutus. “Such a singer.”

All would have been absolutely perfect if he had wanted to be the greatest ‘apapane singer of his time. But he didn’t.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a singer, and it wasn’t that he disliked singing. One of the reasons everybody knew how good he was is that he did enjoy singing. He loved singing. He sang a lot, and he sang beautifully when he did. The problem was that he really wanted to be the greatest diver of his generation.

If you have been wondering why you’ve never heard about ‘apapane divers, well, it’s because they don’t.

He’d been watching the koa’e kea, you see, who nest in the cliffs near the ohi’a trees where the ‘apapane build their nests. He’d first admired them as they soared around Halemau’uma’u and the Kilauea crater, riding the rising air column over the summit. They are elegant when they soar.

Just to see them fly some more, he’d followed some down the slopes from the summit to the sea, which is where koa’e kea go fishing. That had been an eye-opener. He circled at some distance and watched while a bird would hover briefly, spot a fish below the surface, and then dive straight down to catch it. What grace! What elegance!

That, he was sure, was the way to be.

It made him nervous, but he decided to try it. He had no appetite for fish, mind you, so he didn’t worry much about where to dive. He just picked a spot, hovered briefly in mid-air, pointed his beak down, and dove.

It was his first attempt, so it wasn’t all that bad, but things did not go well once he hit the water. His feathers clumped up and he couldn’t see which way was up. His bird-feet had no webs between the toes so even though he instinctively paddled his legs, not much happened. His first dive was about to become his last dive when a beak grabbed him and hauled him to the surface. There was something of a flurry, and then he was hanging from the beak of a koa’e kea heading back to shore.

It dropped him on the ground, wet and disheveled, and now that it didn’t have anything in her beak she said, “What was that all about?”

“I want to be the greatest diver on the island,” gasped the ‘apapane.

She looked him up and down – feathers not meant for ocean water, feet without webs, and a beak designed for bugs and nectar, not fish.

“I don’t think that’s going to work,” she said. “I think it’s likely to drown you.”

He had to admit this was true.

“I’ll tell you what, though,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen an ‘apapane dive before at all, so right now you’re the best ‘apapane diver on the island. But… I think it best you don’t try it again.”

“I won’t,” he said, as he felt his feathers start to dry. “I’ll go back to singing.”

“Good plan,” she said. “I think that will work a lot better.”

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

In the video above, I am telling the story from memory. My memory can be… inventive.

Photo by Eric Anderson.

Climbing

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

Then [Elijah] lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. – 1 Kings 19:-6

I know just what you will say, LORD.
“What are you doing here?” you’ll ask.
Oh, I will have an answer, which
will not be any good as an excuse.

Still I climb the mountain, seeking you,
though you have never been so far before
amidst the labors and travails and trials.
Still now, yes now, I journey and I climb.

I’ll tell you I was running to you, and
we neither of us will be much deceived.
I’ll tell you I’m the only one, and yes,
I know as well as you the truth of that.

Amidst the carnage of the wind I’ll stand,
amidst the terror of the quaking earth the same,
against the roaring of the flames I’ll bare my face,
then hide it from you when your stillness comes.

How pointless is my journey and my climb!
I know full well the words I’ll hear: “What are
you doing here?” And I will have no answer
but to whine, and sigh, and wait for what come next:

Your next assignment, roles familiar:
enlist new friends and colleagues to the work
of justice-making, faith-inspiring,
community-building, righteousness-living.

You’ll send me back and chide me
that I thought I was alone, as there were not
countless people who, in their imperfect way
live humble, faithful, righteous lives.

But God, when I am humbled by
your so appropriate rebuke, I’ll cling to this
remembrance as I turn the journey from
the mountain and am homeward bound:

When I was running needlessly and weary
beyond thought or strength, you came to me.
Just like the angel fed Elijah when he fled,
you gave me comfort, solace, rest,

Before you pushed me down the mount again.

A poem/prayer based on 1 Kings 19:1-15a, the Revised Common Lectionary Alternate First Reading for Year C, Proper 7 (12).

The image is The Prophet Elijah in the Desert, a sketch by Alexander Ivanov (19th cent.) – Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9087568.

In the Silence

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

“And immediately they left their nets and followed him.” – Mark 1:18

Here you come again, O Jesus,
striding on the (rocky? sandy? weedy?) shore
to where I’m busy – busy, Christ, I tell you! –
with the labor of your call.

And you – oh, you – you have another call,
I’m sure, to summon me away
from this old fishing style to some new one,
from catching those… well, catching… what?

For if I am a fisher, then I fish the ponds
of fish you’ve caught before, and rarely reach
the waves upon the beach, and never stretch
beneath the ocean billowing.

Instead, I try to show the long-caught fish
just what it is to be a fish of yours,
to be a fishing fish, a loving fish,
a sharing-of-your-loving fishing fish.

As dear Mark left unspoken your
persuasive words to Simon, Andrew, James and John,
I wait within the silence yet to hear
your summons to be…?

A poem/prayer based on Mark 1:14-20, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Third Sunday after the Epiphany.

The image is a painting of the call of Simon and Andrew in the La Barca de la Fé, Templo Parroquial de San Andrés Buenavista, Tlaxco, Tlaxcala, México. Photo by Enrique López-Tamayo Biosca – https://www.flickr.com/photos/eltb/8399897831/sizes/o/in/photostream/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24055602.

Haul in the Nets

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

“Haul the net in, Simon.”

“How can I do that? My hands are full with the lines of the net I just cast, Andrew. Haul it in yourself.”

“Must I do everything?”

“No. Just haul your own net in.”

Sigh. “Just give me one hand, Simon. This one’s heavy. First mine, then yours.”

Sigh. “All right then… Got my lines together. Here’s my hand. Give the call to pull.”

“Pull! Now pull again! OK, move your hand along; I’ve got it steady… PULL!”

“Well, you weren’t kidding. That’s a heavy net.”

“Thanks, Simon. Let’s do yours.”

“All right. Oh, look.”

“Look where?”

“Behind you, Andrew. There’s that Jesus coming back.”

“Did he leave?”

“I thought he did. He went down the Jordan, where that fellow John’s been preaching. I didn’t think that he’d be back.”

“He’s always been a funny one. Half a foot on earth and half in heaven.”

“Yeah. But here he comes.”

“It’ll be good to see him.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, here’s my hand. Let’s get your net hauled in, my brother.”

“Maybe Jesus will be impressed how good we are at catching fish.”

A dialogue based on Matthew 4:12-23, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel reading for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany.

The image is The Calling of Saint Peter and Saint Andrew (Vocation de Saint Pierre et Saint André) by James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2007, 00.159.56_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195832.