The Weekly View

Sunday, July 18, 2021

Dear St. Luke family:   

For the next two Sundays, I’ll be on vacation.  My husband David and I are headed to the Chicago area, where most of his family lives.  We’ll participate in the delayed celebration of the life of his aunt, who passed away during the pandemic.  It will be a family reunion; memorial services always are, with much laughter and sharing of memories as well as tears.  We’ll spend the week with David’s family, and then drive to Des Moines, Iowa, to celebrate my birthday with my brother and his wife.  My brother and his wife moved to Des Moines from California to be closer to her family.  She was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s about 5 years ago, so I’ll be glad to see my baby brother and offer him some emotional support.  After Des Moines, David and I will celebrate our 25^th wedding anniversary in downtown Chicago before heading home.

The trip is all about family, and relationships, and maintaining ties across distances.  We haven’t seen most of these family members since before the pandemic.  Maintaining in person connections seems to be the work ahead of most of us as the pandemic eases.

That includes maintaining relationships with our church family.  The pandemic forced us to change the way we did things.  We’re all grateful for the technology that allowed us to gather safely for worship.  It turns out some of our meetings and gatherings work just as well or better on Zoom.  A Zoom meeting also reduces our carbon footprint.  But we’ve also learned that we lose something by not being with each other in person.  Many of you will remember the ad slogan during the 1960’s for long distance phone calls: “It’s the next best thing to being there.”  Perhaps Zoom is now the next best thing to being there, but it isn’t being there.  Research shows that people need people, and not just online.  We need to be present, in person, with each other for our emotional and even for our physical health.  Over Zoom, you can’t share in laughter, hear your neighbors sing, catch nuances of expression, or give or receive hugs.  You can’t hear the music as it’s meant to be heard.  You can’t share a story over a cup of coffee and a doughnut.  You can’t greet newcomers and help them to feel welcome at St. Luke.  

It will take time for people to feel comfortable returning to church.  People have different needs for safety.  We must respect that.  This summer, many of us will miss Sundays at church because we are catching up on missed family time.  That is wonderful, something to celebrate.  And I look forward to the time when we are all back in the sanctuary again.

This Sunday, come hear Dvera Hadden, who will be preaching from Chapter 2 of Ephesians, “When Walls Divide Us.”  I’m grateful to Dvera, Becky Viebrock, Beth Potillo-Miller, Erich Miller, Jose Guarcas, liturgist Laura Hislop, and to all who help make worship happen while I’m away.

Grace and peace,
Joanne Whitt
Interim Pastor

Sunday, July 11, 2021

King David and the ark of the covenant

Mark Chagall, c. 1956

Dear St. Luke family:   

I’ve quoted author Brené Brown in sermons a few times.  Brown is a sociologist and author who, as one writer put it, “put vulnerability on the map” a little over ten years ago in a TEDTalk entitled “The Power of Vulnerability” (2010) (which you can see here).  Brown explains that vulnerability – that is, uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure – is the key to connection.  After all, love itself is uncertain.  It leaves us emotionally exposed.  Further, to put our art, our writing, our photography, our ideas out into the world with no assurance of acceptance or appreciation – that’s also vulnerability.  To let ourselves sink into the joyful moments of our lives even though we know that they are fleeting, even though the world tells us not to be too happy lest we invite disaster – that’s also vulnerability.

In this Sunday’s Scripture passage, King David makes himself vulnerable by “dancing with all of his might before the Lord” as the Ark of the Covenant is brought into Jerusalem.  It may have been politically savvy, as well, but it was also vulnerable.  His wife, Michal, condemns him for appearing foolish in front of the people of the kingdom.  King David wasn’t cool, but what Michal doesn’t understand is that his dance connected him to the people.  As Brown puts it, “In order for connection to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be seen, really seen. … Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, and creativity.  It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability and authenticity.  If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper or more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”

What might it mean in your life if the appropriate response to the presence of the Lord is to be vulnerable, to be authentic, to be really seen, to be “uncool”?  This week, our music director Becky Viebrock told me the choir is preparing an anthem for later this summer entitled, “I’m Gonna Sing When the Spirit Says Sing.”  Other verses to this old spiritual include, “I’m gonna pray when the Spirit says pray,” “I’m gonna shout when the Spirit says shout,” and even, “I’m gonna moan when the Spirit says moan,” and “I’m gonna dance when the Spirit says dance.”  All very uncool.  And what if we add, “I’m gonna speak up when the Spirit says speak up”?  And “I’m gonna share my ideas when the Spirit says share your ideas”?  And “I’m gonna try something new when the Spirit says try something new”?

And how can we help each other be more authentic, and less cool?

Don’t forget to “like” St. Luke on Facebook and check out this week’s Midweek Video on spiritual practices.

See you on Sunday!

Grace and peace,
Joanne Whitt
Interim Pastor

Sunday, July 4, 2021

Dear St. Luke family:   

 A number of years ago, I preached a sermon entitled, “The ‘E’ Word.”  The “E” word was “evangelism.”  Many of us in mainline Protestant churches cringe at that word.  We imagine televangelists, fundamentalists, and bad hairdos.  Jimmy and Tammy Faye Baker.  Pat Robertson.  Or corny bumper stickers, like “Honk if you love Jesus.”  Many of us are a little embarrassed by these images – maybe even more than a little.  That’s why I called it the “E” word.     

Evangelism does have a tarnished past.  We know there have been times when evangelism was the excuse for forcing the ways of one group of people onto another group.  Conquistadors, Manifest Destiny, all shapes and sizes of imperialism and colonialism have been cozy with Christian evangelism.  We’ve also seen evangelism used to promote intolerance.  How many of you have had a frustrating conversation with a well-meaning Christian, perhaps someone with pamphlets at your front door, who tried to convince you that even though you say you’re a Christian, you’re not their brand of Christian, and so, well, you’re just not Christian enough?

Then we encounter a passage like this Sunday’s passage, Mark 6:1-13, in which Jesus sends the disciples out to carry on his teaching and healing ministry.  Repeatedly, the New Testament confirms that we and all Christians are “sent.”  Jesus prays to God in John 17:18, “As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.”  At the end of John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you” (John 20:21).  In the “Great Commission” at the end of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations …” (Matthew 28:18-20).  We are sent by a sending God, the God who sent Jesus and who sent the Holy Spirit; the Jesus who sends us.   

Okay, we’re sent.  Where, and to do what?  In the 21^st century, in Northern California, we take a dim view of the kind of faith that insists, “My way or the highway.”  There are many paths to God.  But Matthew’s Gospel gives us a clue about what being “sent” might mean.  In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “You are the light of the world.  Let your light shine” (Matthew 5:14-16).  I love that image.  It always takes me back to childhood and the little song we learned in Sunday school: “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.  Let it shine, Let it shine, Let it shine.” 

This Sunday, we’ll explore what being “sent” might look like for Presbyterians, in Marin County, in 2021. 

Grace and peace,
Joanne Whitt
Interim Pastor