“We are God’s Gift of Light” by Margreta Silverstone
January 4, 2015
Celebrating the Feast of the Epiphany
Good morning, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in God’s sight and helpful for this faith community to hear.
Some weeks ago, I had a lovely conversation with Trish regarding life in general, the recent race and diversity class, her trip with Pat around Mississippi and other topics. In that conversation over tea at my dining room table, one desire that Trish shared was that I preach more frequently. I am generally a once a year preacher and you can check with celebration circle about that (they do keep records). Once a year works well for me, it is manageable in my life. Yet, I heard her request. My offering today, to stand here and speak, is my gift to her and to you because of that ask.
Another piece of what Trish and I talked about was the Children’s Sermon and their offering plate. I love the children’s sermon. There have been times in the past when the sermon that they received was what held the most truth and gospel for me. I am grateful for the gift that other church members, such as Trish, Larry, June and David, give when they give the children’s sermon. And thank you >>>>>>> for doing so today.
While I love the word, the children’s offering plate has bothered me, and to some extent, bothered Oslin too. Some years ago, Oslin asked me what he was supposed to put in the plate. We had a conversation about the offering plate and what can and should go in there. Considering the gift that our children are to us and to God, having the plate be empty did not seem right. And, the solution or approach that was part of my childhood didn’t seem right either. The children’s offering plate is not supposed to be a pass through for my parent’s fifty cents.
Money and the role that money plays in supporting life and comfort and connection has varied historically. We, in this area, now seem to use money as a shorthand way to assess transactions and worth. Money wasn’t so central in the past, although certainly there was value in it. The tradition of offerings in the past was also centered in the skills and non-monetary ways that people contributed to their community – whether that was in offering vegetables or healing herbs or animal products. The deeper gifts reflected upon the time and skill and passion of the individual.
For the poor, and for those whose riches are not easily translated into a monetary value, assuming that the only thing that can go into the offering plate or that can be presented as a gift is equivalent to some unit of dollar bills diminishes all of us. Finding a way to put, name and recognize these other gifts is, I believe, essential work for all of us. Without it, we mask how gifted we as a faith community are, how much each person gives already and how each member of this community offers skills and talents. Let me say it again, assuming that the only thing that can go into the offering plate or that can be presented as a gift is equivalent to some unit of dollar bills diminishes all of us.
During a worship service this fall, Jesse offered up a song called “Holy Now” by Peter Mayer. For me, that song was a turning point to look around and start naming, in my own note to God in the offering plate, the many gifts that come my way. To name the places where I may have offered to help our faith community and it didn’t translate into a dollar value. For example, Oslin and I have been doing the nativity scene downstairs. Sometimes, I look around to see if my fiber work is gracing this space (the vests or shawls that the kids wear when the light the candles, the banner in the corner). Sometimes I simply have to name the gifts that others are providing, such as Kenny and his welcome at the door, or Emmy Lou in preparing the bulletins. These gifts of time and love and attention belong in the offering plate as they build up God’s kingdom and our faith community.
I am still listening to this piece of music on a daily basis, but it holds a different note of importance for me now.
I can name the light of Jeffrey, Oslin and I as we, so many years ago, came up the elevator on a Christmas eve in 2005, like a traveling holy family that found its way to the magi and the gift of community.
I can name the light of my father, whose birthday is today.
I can name the lights of Melinda, Kavi and Ruth, who saw me through surgery this past Monday.
I can name the light of Oslin, whose 10th birthday we celebrated on December 30 (he says it was his best birthday ever).
I can name the light of Gail Silverstone, my mother-in-law, who was with Seekers on Christmas eve. We were with her on Christmas Day. But on Oslin’s birthday, at 12:45 pm, her physical light in this world stopped. She did not survive the single vehicle car accident she had on Sunday, December 28.
As Christ is God’s light and we follow Christ’s example, we too are God’s light. We too are God’s gift, given to each other to help each of us stay open and light and loving.
The “advantage” is that it is communion Sunday so the sermon can be short. I have yet to put thoughts to paper but the thoughts are there. And, well, if the thoughts have to come out in the middle of tears within the faith community, where else but in the faith community do tears belong? Broken and whole, we are the gifts of faith to each other, not simply the bread and cup.
This is a place, has been a place and needs to continue to be a place where tears are as normal as laughter. Not just that the building can hold this but that we as a people of God can hold this – holding the tears like crystal in the light of God’s love is a gift as well.
Molly Baskett, on December 22, 2014, shared this:
Molly goes on to remind the reader that Jesus is an example of God with skin on and closes with a prayer that we, as followers, remember to help others who need God with a little skin on these days.
For me, that God with skin on came this week with phone calls from friends whom I had lost contact with over the past two years, with Brenda showing up at my door with the 2 cans of tuna fish and bag of frozen peas that I needed to make Oslin’s favorite dinner on his birthday, with Linda and Bill bringing flowers.
Then, another reflection, on December 30, included a prayer by Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, written shortly before his assassination in 1980, offers this insight: