God's always "hooking us," pulling us back: back to the Word, back to the Meal, back to the Font...back to the community.

This blog is for the purpose of sharing around each Sunday's Bible readings & sermon at Shepherd of the Valley Lutheran Church.

Get Sunday's readings here. We follow the Narrative Lectionary.
(In the summer, we return to the Revised Common Lectionary' epistle or Second Reading here.)

So, what's been hooking you?

So, what's been hooking you?


Here you can...

Sunday, October 2, 2016

October 2 -- Passover & Deliverance



Heather, my spouse, is a doula.  A doula offers non-medical support and care to laboring moms.  She started as a volunteer doula, but a few years ago was offered and has been the role of Assistant Director for the whole program at UCSD Medical in Hillcrest.  In addition to attending many births still, she now schedules and manages the 100+ volunteers and trains new volunteer doulas.

The word doula comes from the Greek; it means servant or slave.  The work of the doula is to be that nurturing caring presence during labor and birth.  In seminary, long before Heather was a doula, we all used to joke about how nice it would be to have a “life doula” -- just someone to follow you around everywhere and through every decision you make with positive, supportive, nurturing words:  “You’re doing everything right.  You’re amazing.”  Wouldn’t that be great? 

Well, there’s obviously more to being a doula than that:   They’ve got a ton of wisdom and experience around labor and giving birth.  And one of my favorite stories and concepts that Heather tells me, part of every new doula’s training, is the importance of “holding the space”.  The doula, she teaches, holds the space.

There’s a story about one a doula who attended a birth.  Mom was on the bed early in labor, doula was by her side, until suddenly the laboring mom politely asked her doula if she could please move slightly to the side, toward the back of the bed...center of room...over by the door...out the door into the hallway.  Doula thought that was a little strange, maybe she felt a little useless and silly (especially in our productive-doing culture).  Nursing staff kept coming by the room, asking if they could help this woman in purple scrubs standing outside the door.  “Nope.  I’m just the doula.”  Couple hours later… “Nope.  I’m just the doula.”  x2.   Still she stayed there, every once in a while checking in with mom.  Head in the door, making eye contact:  “Need anything?  Ok.  I’m right here.”  For 12 hours, Mom labors and doula stays out in that hallway.  The nursing shift changed over.  Heather says someone eventually got the doula a chair, but not for a long time.  

Birth happened.  Baby’s great.  Mom’s great.  Doula goes home after doing her paper work.  Meets with the mom some days later in the routine follow-up.  [pause]  Mom can’t stop the tears:  “I could never have done it without you.  You made this birth possible.  I knew I could do it, because you were out there.”   Holding the space.  The doula held the space, and that meant everything.  There’s a more popular image in the doula world, I understand, of the knitting doula.  Rocking chair…

Holding the space, the future is possible and even hopeful if the doula’s sitting there knitting -- or keeping vigil out in the hall.  The birth can happen.  The new life can begin.  Because the space is being held.

These ancient rituals [pointing to bible]...hold the space as well.  These strange practices -- Passover, Holy Communion, the liturgy in general (i.e. our order of worship Gathering-Word-Meal-Sending) -- friends in Christ, for us and for all those who heed the Word of God -- these practices hold the space, make it possible in times of terror, times of violence, times of bitter strife, times of joy, times of birth, times of death too, these ancient and profound rituals hold the space. 

For some they might seem silly:  A lamb?  Bitter herbs?  Unleavened bread?  Why?  For some they might seem empty:  Church on Sunday, white robes, altar paraments, processions, tiny baptismal fonts?  Why?  But for us who hear and do our best to follow after God’s Word, we find liberation and hope in the rituals.  These rituals are our servants, our doulas that hold the space, and support the birth of something new.  

This was certainly the case for the ancient Hebrews.  I mean, why not just run for it?  Why this elaborate ritual?  And why is it still practiced today?  

Walter Brueggemann, Old Testament scholar, says that we, like the Egyptians, are a “culture devoted to amnesia”.  We so easily forget our past...and we are obsessed with securing our future.  We -- as a culture -- are pretty lousy at being in the now...at “holding the space”.  Brueggemann writes:  “Those who neither remember nor hope are profoundly vulnerable to consumerism...filling the void left by the eradication of that extra dimension of historical awareness that belongs to healthy humanness.”  He goes on, “Thus when the community says, ‘Do this in remembrance,’ it is not engaged in a mere history lesson or a simple act of piety.  It is rather, engaged in an act of resistance against any ideology that will destroy any Passover-driven humanness” (NIB, Vol. 1, 787).  [pause]  The Egyptians were the world’s most brutal super-power; they sought to erase any memory of the past, and aimed to strike fear about the future.  But the Passover, “holds the space”: such ritual is an act of resistance against 1) amnesia and 2) despair -- against forgetting about the past, and against a debilitating fear for the future. 

This is how worship functions for us as well.  This is what worship offers us, friends in Christ:  It is the antidote for amnesia.  We practice the traditions of the past, we remember those who have gone before us -- this week, October 4 we commemorate St. Francis of Assisi, who did his great share of “holding space” -- we remember the people of God down through the ages.  When our backs are against the wall, when we’re pushed up against the Red Sea, when amnesia threatens, and despair creeps in:  We remember.  “On the night in which Jesus was back up against the wall, he took bread and gave thanks…”  
We remember the Israelites of old, for whom God enables a new birth, a new freedom -- the ritual holds the space -- and there’s a new freedom from the chains and the cruelty that had held them back for so many generations.  

God brings to birth a liberation.  And that doesn’t just make everything easy now.  The wilderness?  Parenting?  A beautiful new birth brings with it a whole set of new complications.  But this is how worship ought to function for us as well.  This is what worship and ritual offers us, friends in Christ: it’s also the antidote for fear about the future.  Simply put, in this meal, there is hope.  Christ is present with us as we look forward, and move forward in faith.  The ritual holds the space for a new birth to happen, a liberation.  

Another professor notes that the Passover is the antidote for cruelty.  Remembering the cruelty inflicted on our people, we will never inflict such cruelty against another group of human beings, we will never despise a race, based on their country of origin or the color of their skin, we will never oppress a people under the chain and the whip of slavery and humiliation, we will never tolerate the cruelty that our ancestors witnessed...we will remember our story.  [slowly] And live in grace and peace, bringing to birth mercy (rather than P’s heard-heartedness), forgiveness (rather than P’s impatience), reconciliation (rather than P’s isolation) and peace (rather than P’s dominance).  Worship “holds the space” for us, for that new birth to take place.  And God blesses us and our worship.  AMEN.  

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