Over a year ago it seemed likely that my church in Washington, DC might be closed down. It is a United Church of Christ and United Methodist Church. It only worships in one building, but also owns three other buildings which it rents out. Well it turned out that the local United Methodist bishop felt that it would be better stewardship for the church to close, so the Methodists could get the money from their half of the buildings--to the tune of $20 million. So at the annual conference of the Baltimore-Washington UMC, it was proposed that the Methodists withdraw from the church, a motion which was tabled until this year's annual conference meeting...See more details from church leaders below--

I returned Saturday from the 222nd annual meeting of the Baltimore Washington Conference of the United Methodist Church. I had lunch Saturday with our new pastor, Reverend DeGroote. He is an impressive person. I think he will be good for us.

From our point of view, the most important event at the annual Conference was the withdrawal of the motion, introduced last year and tabled then by the 3000 plus voting members of the BWC, which sought to end Methodist participation in our church in the expectation that this would close our church and divide our assets between UMC and UCC.

Friday night, the bishop had our District Superintendent, Reverend Argo, stand before the body and move that the resolution introduced and tabled last year should be withdrawn. They had promised that the resolution would be terminated, so this was no surprise. The surprising and gratifying thing was the way it was done. Rev. Argo moved that the resolution be withdrawn but he did not explain what it was all about. It was almost seemed as though he were embarassed about the resolution and wanted to say as little as possible about it. My heart thumped when, after the bishop said "without objection it is so ordered," the room broke into loud and long applause. The members of the conference remembered us! They remembered the motion from last year! They showed through their applause their disapproval of the conference leadership's effort last year to close us and take our assets.

We have many friends in the UMC conference, friends we did not realize we have. With that applause and the withdrawal of that motion, I think it is fair to say that this chapter of our life as a church has closed. We can now look to the future and focus our energy on building our congregation, expanding our ministry, and meeting the needs of the people in our pews, in our neighborhood and in our community.
-- Jon Sanford

Note from the Council President
This is what I hope to be my final update on our situation with the United Methodist Church, which has taken many turns over the past 18 months. As you may recall from our most recent congregational meeting, the bishop of the UMC Baltimore-Washington Conference announced that he was going to appoint three pastors to serve in a newly-created "Foundry/United Cooperative Parish," with one of the pastors, Rev. Peter DeGroote, serving as the lead pastor for United. At our congregational meeting on April 30, we heard the bishop's announcement and then, after an opportunity to discuss the issues relating to it, adopted two resolutions in response to the announcement. The first was to reject the "shared ministry" as it was presented, because this idea had not yet been discussed between all three parties to our merged church, including our congregation and the UCC Central Atlantic Conference. The second resolution was to accept Pastor DeGroote as the new senior pastor for The United Church (and not as part of any "shared ministry" with another church). Both resolutions passed nearly unanimously.

After the congregational meeting, I sent copies of our adopted resolutions to Rev. David Argo, the district superintendent for our area of the conference. After some back-and-forth between Rev. Argo, myself and Jon Sanford, the Bishop's Cabinet made a new announce-ment, which appointed Pastor DeGroote as senior pastor of The United Church, without any mention of the "cooperative parish" which had been earlier proposed. Since we had already accepted this appointment at the congregational meeting, this new announcement concluded the appointment process and Pastor DeGroote will begin his service at United on July 1.

As you'll see in Jon Sanford's message in this newsletter, the cabinet withdrew its motion to end the Baltimore-Washington Conference's participation in United at its Annual Conference in May. This action represented the final step in our ongoing situation with the Conference, which began nearly 18 months ago. I'm sure that you all share my sense of relief that we have moved past this painful chapter in our church's history. I am grateful to everyone that helped us work through this situation, including the Council and the congregational task force, but most importantly, I thank you all for your patience and support. I look forward to turning the page and writing the next chapter in our unique church. We have proven to ourselves that we are still a strong and vibrant congregation, so I hope that we can continue to draw on that strength to accomplish our goals for the future. -- Jeremy Gosbee

Well, praise God the ministry of Die Vereinigte Kirche/The United Church of Washington, DC will continue. I will eagerly join them later this fall when I move to DC.

This is a reflection I wrote shortly after Easter about a t-shirt I made. Enjoy--it's actually fairly interesting.

To Whom Do You Claim Allegiance?

Awhile back I made a t-shirt online with a picture of President Bush in front of a stained-glass window on the front with text that says “This man is not my president OR PASTOR” On the back there is a picture of Rev. John H. Thomas, President and General Minister of the United Church of Christ. Above his picture there is text that says “This man is [my president and pastor].” Below the photo is a quote from Rev. Thomas: “God expects us to be ready, to be ready for doing justice in the midst of oppression, to be ready for peacemaking in the midst of dangerous conflict, to be ready for affirming life and resisting the culture of death.” I finally bought the shirt a week ago. Already I’ve received several comments for it.

I’m taking a masters-level course this semester that is discussing identity quite a bit. One of the theories we’ve surveyed is Judith Butler’s concept of performativity. Butler argues that through repetitive acts and ritual, we become our identities—gender, sexual orientation, class, religion, etc. There is a defined social construct that we perform our identities within, and face consequences if we subvert the norms of the culture’s view of that identity. So I’ve been thinking a lot lately about identity, and how I act out various parts of it.

My t-shirt is most likely initially viewed as a performance of politics. Certainly I am playing out my politics with it. From my perspective it says, “I do not accept the authority of President Bush.” But more so I see it as a theological performance. On the front of the shirt the words “this man is not my president” are not capitalized, but the words “OR MY PASTOR” are. This indicates that the theological statement is more important. More important than not simply accepting President Bush’s political authority, I do not accept his theology. I do not accept the President of the United States’ bad theology of the orphaned, widowed, and alien pulling themselves up by their bootstraps while he pulls all of their support from under them. I do not accept his authority or theology. However I do accept John Thomas as my president. I am nourished by his words of comfort and challenge. I find his vision of opposition to oppression and violence much closer to Jesus’ vision for his people.

But this is more than politics, theology, and authority. No, it is about whom one puts their greatest trust in. Does one claim one’s deepest loyalty to a sovereign nation or to the Sovereign Lord and the Church Universal? Does one pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America or to God? In a world of relativism it is easy to say, “Well, both of course.” I would argue against that. Jesus tells us that we cannot serve two masters, that we cannot serve both God and worldly idols, like money, beauty, success, acclaim, and yes, nation. Quakers and other religious groups have consistently refused to say the pledge of allegiance to the American flag, because their sole allegiance is to God. I think that is something to aspire to—to be able to truthfully claim that one only has allegiance to God.

Last Sunday many preachers undoubtedly told the story of two different parades entering Jerusalem. One came with military might, armor, and weaponry, with pomp and probably a great deal of circumstance as well. The other was a ragtag team of former tax collectors, fishermen, harlots, convicts, lepers, and their leader riding on a donkey. The way of the Crucified Christ was not the way of the imperial power. It is thought that the Jews expected their Messiah to come militantly and overthrow that other parade, the rule of the Romans. But he didn’t, God came into the world as a peasant who led and transformed the lives of those the religious leaders of the day refused to associate with.

Rev. Thomas’ words outline a vision alternative to the prevalent vision of many of our politicians in Washington. He reminds us that “liberty and justice for all” should not merely be an empty promise, but one that people of faith must work toward. He reminds us that in a culture obsessed with violence and self-interest, that we affirm the lives of all God’s children. John Thomas once asked, “Do we love Jesus more than the lure of respectability?” I, like many others, struggle with that question. How much am I willing to risk for the sake of the gospel. Am I willing to take an unpopular stance that may lose my privilege? Am I willing to not just “stand up” for peace and justice in the face of warring madness, but to act for peace and justice? How great of a sacrifice will each of us make? No matter how great the sacrifice, God does expect us as followers of The Way to be ready. The world draws us in so many directions, and we are defined by many different things. But what would it mean for us to join our Reformed brothers and sisters in answering the question of the Heidelberg Catechism, “What is your only comfort, in life and in death?” that we indeed “belong—body and soul, in life and in death” not to ourselves “but to our faithful Savior Jesus Christ”? It is helpful to remember that in the life of the early church that the phrase “Jesus is Lord” was a radical one. It meant that Rome was not the sovereign power over these early Christians, but that Jesus Christ was their sole authority. We can render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, however if we are to be true to the one we follow, we must not allow Caesar’s realm guide our vision, but the Realm of God. Again Rev. Thomas provides an alternative vision, asking “Could we raise the cup of wine and remember that our comfort and security comes from the vulnerability of the cross rather than the destructive power of violence?” This Eastertide, may we reflect, discern, and act on that vulnerability, our allegiance to the true Sovereign.

The following is this Sunday's reflection...It's basically a slightly revised version of the first sermon I gave, "Through the Valley...of Des Moines?" from November 2003.

2 July 2006
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
New Church United Church of Christ
Peoria, IL

Faith Healing
Mark 5: 21-43
James Semmelroth Darnell

Today’s gospel text, I must admit, is one of my favorite passages from the gospels. This is in part due to the fact that it is the first text I ever preached on, but also because when I first encountered the text in-depth, it spoke to me in a powerful and profound way. It is the amazing story of two powerful healings of two very different people.

When I first explored this text three years ago as an intern at Plymouth Congregational United Church of Christ in Des Moines, Iowa, my mentor, Rev. David Ruhe encouraged the question “Who are Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman today?” Who compares? Does anyone? The answer to this is yes, of course. It seems that anyone outcast from society today could be compared to this woman. The physically and mentally disabled, the deaf, the blind, the transgender, the homeless, the unemployed. But what most stuck out in my mind was the person with AIDS. This woman has been bleeding for twelve years. And because of this disease which she obviously can not help, even that doctors could not help according to the text, she is cast out of society. She is declared unclean. And no one may touch her until she is declared clean of her disease. Likewise men and women of all ages all across the globe are declared unclean of a blood disease, AIDS. Early in the history of the disease, people with AIDS were treated very much like lepers, ushered out of society, in their hour of greatest need. While there have been many in-roads since the days when AIDS was known as GRID (gay-related immune deficiency), in many places, too often people with AIDS are declared unclean.

And who is Jairus? Well, we know from the passage that in his own time, he was a pillar of the community, well-respected and liked, a leader of the Jewish temple of great authority. And most likely, among the first to make sure that the unnamed woman stayed in her place, which really was no place at all. Today, Jairus, in thinking of him as the direct opposite of this woman, I see as those who were the first to cry out that AIDS is God’s wrath on homosexuals, hemophiliacs, Haitians, and intravenous drug users. But perhaps he is also one of us—in our considerable privilege in terms of wealth, ethnicity, and class, among other things.

It is clear in the text that these two people are very different from each other. Jairus is a man of considerable wealth, honor, and prestige. The bleeding woman is so insignificant, so powerless, that we do not even know her name. So why then are these two told about in the same passage? One commentator reminds the gospel reader that the woman has been bleeding for twelve years. The bleeding was likely a result of childbirth. Jairus’ daughter is only twelve years old—and may not reach age 13, her entrance into womanhood. Now the number 12 has several theological significances—the number of the tribes of Israel and apostles of Jesus. But here, the commentator suggests, could it be that the bleeding woman is the mother of the child? Rev. Jim Mueller of Austin City Church ponders this possibility, saying, “Is it possible that the woman was bleeding for 12 years as a result of the birth of that daughter? Perhaps Jairus is her husband, and because of an abuse of the ceremonial laws she was deemed unclean because of her bleeding. Perhaps they reasoned that the bleeding was a result of some sin and the consequence of that sin is the death of her daughter. Maybe after trying doctor after doctor and ritual after ritual she was sent away.” I don’t know how much of a theological leap that might be, but it is interesting to ponder. Whether or not Jairus and the bleeding woman previously had a relationship together is not vitally important, though it might add another layer of healing in the story—the restoration of a family. Whatever their relationship was previously, at the point in their lives during the story they both long for healing. Despite vast differences, in this respect they are both amazingly alike.

The unnamed woman has been bleeding for twelve years. Twelve years! She has tried everything she could from witch doctors to miracle cures, and her problems have only worsened. For twelve years this bleeding has continued, and for those twelve years no one has touched her. Not a soul. Can any of us imagine what it would feel like? Not being touched for twelve years. I think some of us can recall some time in our lives when, even an embrace by a friend or even a stranger, was what could get us through the day without breaking down in tears. She is completely and utterly desperate to be healed.

Jairus’ daughter is deathly ill. He was at the height of his career and the top of his game, with power, money, and a family that he cares for deeply. When he least expected it, his daughter was stricken with this horrible disease. Now, all the money and the power in the world mean nothing. His little girl means the world to him. He stops at nothing, even begging a peasant to heal his child. Jairus too is completely and utterly desperate.
Jairus and the bleeding woman have nothing left. They have no other options. It seems that they have no hope. But they have both heard about this peasant, Jesus, who some say is a prophet, who some say is an imposter, who the most bold say is the Messiah come to bring forth the Reign of God. Mark doesn’t actually tell us what the two believe in that aspect. But what we do know is that they are sure of Jesus’ healing power through God. They know somehow that this rabbi, this Jesus of Nazareth is their remaining hope. They have faith enough that they are sure of being healed. They cannot see or prove with facts and figures, their healing. But these two, again so different but so alike, trust that God will get them through. Perhaps they remembered the words of the 23rd Psalm, “Yea through the valley of deaths shade I walk, none I’ll fear: because thou art with me.” Perhaps they realized that the verse says through the valley of death, indicating that God would somehow get them through.

And when it comes down to it, Jesus does nothing physically to heal the unnamed woman and Jairus’ daughter. It is because they so fervently believe that Jesus will heal them, that it happened. They fully trust that God will bring them to safety from the fires that blaze around them. The bleeding woman knows that if she can even touch Jesus’ clothes, his clothes, not his body even, but his clothes, she will be healed. Immediately as she touches the Nazarene’s robe, she is healed. The power of God shoots out from him into her, immediately stopping the bleeding. A simple touch saved her life. Jesus audaciously asks who touched him, among a swarm of dozens of people crowding around him. The woman fearfully goes before him and confesses that it was her. Jesus tells her, “Your FAITH has made you well, go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” It is God’s promise of everlasting hope become physical. Just as he says this, some of Jairus’ cronies come and tell Jairus not to bother Jesus any longer since his daughter has died. But Jesus assures Jairus that she is not dead, and that if he only believes that God will restore her health, it will happen. So Jairus, Jesus, James, and John travel to Jairus’ home. Once they arrive, they see and hear all the mourners already weeping and crying out over Jairus’ little girl’s death. When Jesus asks why they mourn when the child is only sleeping, all the mourners laugh at him. Jesus, his two disciples, and the parents of the girl go into the house, and into the child’s room. The Lord simply says, “Little girl, get up.” So she does, and begins walking around like nothing happened! The child was at death’s door, but Jairus’ faith raises her up back to health. What an amazing amount of faith!

Just the same with the person with AIDS and the one in power who condemns that person. It no longer matters who they are. There are situations when they are both led to desperation, and are down on their knees. In that moment nothing else matters, but faith.

I mentioned earlier that when I first encountered this text deeply it spoke to me. At that time I was in the midst of depression. I knew very few people in Des Moines, and was incredibly lonely. I began to go to sleep earlier each night, 10, 9, 8 o’clock…sometimes as early as 7PM, just so I didn’t have to deal with things. One night I recall, I opened my New Century Hymnal and I sang every hymn in it that I knew. I came to “Jesus Loves Me.” Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong; they are weak, but He is strong. At that point I just started crying. The words, so simple, but so true, hit me so forcefully. I am weak, but through Christ am strengthened. It reminded me that I’m not alone, that I’m never alone. As long as I have faith, God will get me through the valley of death’s shade. When we have faith we need not fear, for God is with us. It may seem like there is no hope left, that all the happiness has left our lives, that no one is there for us. But remember brothers and sisters, we have hope, we have more than just fleeting moments of happiness, we have joy in our relationship with God, we are always loved, more “unconditionally” than any human can vow to love us, and most of all we have eternal rest and peace in Christ.

When I originally preached on this text many months after finishing my internship in Des Moines, most people didn’t know it but I was still suffering through depression. Yet I meant every word of what I preached, because the only thing that made me get out of bed every morning was the knowledge that yes Jesus loves me, was with me always, and cried with me. That faith sustained me—and yes, led me out of the darkness of depression, with the support of family, friends, church, and counseling. Faith does indeed heal. We have the opportunity many times in our lives to choose faith or fear—and I, for one, have chosen faith, and found how powerful it can be.

It does not matter who or where we are. Whether it be Jerry Falwell in his smug condemnation in Lynchburg, Virginia, someone dying of AIDS in Ethiopia, the bleeding woman and Jairus in Palestine, or someone just trying to answer God’s call in Des Moines, Iowa, God is there. We are all the same, in that no matter where we are in our lives whether in our most joyous celebration or in or own personal hell, God is there to comfort us, to bring us through. In this cross there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, rich nor poor, abled or disabled, Israeli nor Palestinian, immigrant or citizen; we are all equal in God’s eyes. Thank God for that. People are fallible, society is fallible, churches are fallible, the Creator is not. When we have faith in God’s glory, the justice will be done. We absolutely must have faith, because without faith that the Most High will do what is promised, how can God make it happen? We must build each other up in our faith, encouraging one another. How can we possibly walk past a child of God in pain and not help them? So brothers and sisters, let us all be as Christ to each other, letting his Spirit come through us, touching others’ lives and healing them. After all we were bleeding for twelve years, and by touching the Rabbi’s clothes we were healed. Can we not help others to feel that healing touch as well? Amen.