“A New Way…”

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, September 19, 2021, the seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost. “New Day, New Way!” series.

  Texts: Psalm 150, James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a

The Gaines-Cirelli household continues our long trek through the zombie apocalypse that is The Walking Dead. Now in season 7 of the T.V. show, we’ve come to understand that somewhere along the way, the primary adversaries and threat shifted from being the zombie hordes to other humans. As the crisis drags on and on, food, medicine, and other resources grow thin. Hope in any positive future and trust in any stranger are also in short supply. And people are all trying to survive. “Kill or be killed,” “survival of the fittest,” and “everyone’s out for themselves” are ongoing themes. Increasingly, the narrative is exploring questions about what a person is willing to do to survive, whether simply staying alive is worth losing your sense of “self” or basic humanity. 

This came to mind as I pondered our text from James for today: “where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind.” James goes on to point out how we pit ourselves against others and how, when we want something and can’t obtain it, we get into disputes and conflicts and are even willing to kill to get our way or what we want.

Perhaps I’m making James’ teaching bigger than what it’s meant to convey. After all, none of us are living in a zombie apocalypse. But we are living in a moment of profound upheaval and suffering. Right now grief is pervasive, trust is small, and fear is big. Violence and vulnerability are ever present. Supply lines are a mess and medicine, well… Everyone is trying to survive. These realities don’t necessarily bring out the best in people. Conflicts and disputes abound. 

A couple of days ago, I had an interesting conversation with a couple of folk I know who work at our local pub. They said that behavior in the restaurant has been really challenging as people have “come back.” The manager said she’d been cursed at and called names more in the last two months than she has in the past 5 years. People are upset that some things aren’t available (hello supply line issues!) or that they simply can’t get whatever it is they want. I can’t imagine this is an isolated incident. Our collective patience and emotional resources are worn pretty thin.

And we don’t even need all the extra stuff that is stressing and straining us right now to get caught in what James is talking about. Our whole culture encourages self-help and self-serve and selfies and self-promotion and…self obsession. Of course, there’s a healthy way to practice self care. But the food dished out daily for our consumption is selfishness with a side of envy. 

Cultural religion, popular “wisdom” with its materialism, ruthlessness in pursuit of power, and the drive win at all costs is pervasive and we have to be very careful to not worship at its altar. The idols of cultural religion promise happiness and abundance, but in deep ways, rob us of both. We can so easily get turned in on ourselves, on our own needs, on the things others have that we want—whether those things are possessions, relationships, jobs, positions, or whatever. And then if we’re not careful, if we’re not wise, we can make choices, act, and speak in ways that are hurtful both toward others and ourselves.

James contrasts this “earthly, unspiritual, devilish” wisdom with the “wisdom from above” that “is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” (James 3:17) The community for whom this was written appears to be a congregation of Jesus followers in the first century CE. And the point at its most basic is that selfishness and envy lead to conflict in community while “works done with gentleness born of wisdom” bear good fruits that “make for peace.” James is clear about wh

“Make Some (Joyful) Noise”

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, September 12, 2021, the sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost. “New Day, New Way!” series.

Texts: Psalm 100, James 3:5b-12

Water is absolutely necessary for life. Up to 60% of the human body is water. The whole creation depends on water in all its forms for life. Water can also be dangerous and destructive—storms, floods, undercurrents, and crashing waves can do so much damage. Anyone who’s been responsible for maintaining any kind of building—home, office, church—has likely learned that water can be one of the most persistent and challenging issues to manage. In both my home and here at Foundry, I’m constantly reminded that water not carefully contained or directed will flow any and everywhere. A water spot in my bedroom ceiling doesn’t necessarily identify where the water is breaching the roof, since water runs along any unbounded channel and finds a low place to seep into things. Over time, water causes rot and mold, rust and erosion. 

Words are like that. Today we are given our every three years reminder from the epistle of James that our words can do serious damage. Words and language are, of course, beautiful gifts and provide ways for us to communicate and connect with others, and to describe our deepest thoughts, feelings, and truths. I imagine most of us could tell of a time when someone’s words encouraged, comforted, affirmed, or inspired us. I remember once when I was feeling discouraged about things at a former congregation, a lay leader sent me a message with a list of all the things he saw that I’d helped to accomplish. Words of poetry, prayers, and scripture feed my spirit daily. My father was a man of few words and I have kept every little scrap of paper with any message he ever wrote to me. Words can be profoundly life-giving and sustaining. 

But words can also do great damage. Like water, words that flow into places where there aren’t good boundaries will just keep flowing, affecting everything and everyone they touch. And hurtful words do damage. Thoughtless slander or careless conjecture or cruel teasing or hateful speech hurt feelings, wound relationships, and erode a person’s confidence, trust, peace, and joy. I imagine all of us can think of words spoken to us or about us that have left deep scars on our hearts and spirits. The hurtful words are so difficult to shake.

I’ve found over the years that, along with small towns like the one I grew up in, workplaces and churches are super skilled at being “set ablaze by a small fire.” The “small fire” of gossip might be what someone thinks is a benign snippet of hearsay or might be a story shared for the purpose of venting or expressing disdain or judgment. But fire, like water, will spread and flow unless it is properly managed and contained. And a juicy little tidbit is fun to receive and to share and so, often, is not contained. Better to put that tidbit in a sealed doggy bag and let it sit in the fridge until you’ve forgotten it’s there and then, eventually, throw it out because you realize it isn’t something that’s nourishing or necessary. In other words, contain it. Zip it. These days, most of us know something about triangulation—that dynamic where two persons are in conflict and one or both of them try to draw a third person in to try to gain personal validation or support for their cause. That creates fertile ground for talking smack about the “other” person. If you’ve gathered around a fire and choose to chime in or pile on, you are—to work with the metaphor—throwing fuel on the fire and making it bigger and more damaging—not just to the person but to the whole community. Fires destroy things and hurt people. I find that anyone involved in leadership for human community needs skills in this kind of firefighting. 

There are appropriate ways and places to share concerns and to work through conflict. In any human community, there will be conflicts and d

“Come Home to Love”

A homily preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, September 5, 2021, the fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost. “Homecoming!” series.

  Texts: Psalm 126, James 2:8, 14-17

Today is a significant day in the history of Foundry United Methodist Church. It is a day we enter a truly new season of life, joining in-person worship here at the corner of 16th and P Street NW in Washington, DC with a robust online congregation gathered from near and far. Amidst the ongoing pandemics of COVID, systemic racism, environmental degradation, poverty, and violence, we have persevered over 18 months, physically distant, but spiritually connected. Together, we’ve suffered job loss and insecurity, virtual school, family stresses, a steady stream of marches and vigils demanding justice following the murder of George Floyd; we’ve suffered isolation, waves of grief, depression, languishing, an assault on our home, this capitol city, denominational stalemate and churn, and political strife that seeps into everything at every level. 

There may have been moments when we doubted this day would ever come, this day when, together, we reconnect to this sacred space and to the sacrament of Holy Communion whether we’re here in person or experiencing the sanctuary and sacrament from a remote location. And, like the Psalmist sings: this restoration is like a “dream.” Our mouths are filled with laughter and our tongues with shouts of joy! God has brought us through so much, has been life-giving water for us along the way, has set us down at this place of turning toward the new stretch of the journey ahead. Today we don’t rejoice because the work is done or because the journey will have no obstacles. We rejoice because we are restored to one another in the flesh and, I pray, restored to our shared task of being and becoming God’s dream for Foundry Church as we continue to lean in to the challenges and opportunities of the 21st century and our third century as a congregation. Today we come home. We come home to love.

The image at the heart of our “Homecoming” theme is from Psalm 126, that of the farmer who goes out, weeping, but with lifegiving seed to sow and then returns home with the harvest—the “sheaves”—of grain. Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the Psalm acknowledges Israel’s joy over God’s restoration in the past and then says:

And now, God, do it again—    bring rains to our drought-stricken livesSo those who planted their crops in despair    will shout “Yes!” at the harvest,So those who went off with heavy hearts    will come home laughing, with armloads of blessing.

That last phrase, “come home laughing, with armloads of blessing” struck me. I wonder what blessings we’re coming home with from our time out in the wilderness. Perhaps you learned new things about yourself—your own strength, fears, capacities, or priorities. Perhaps we’ve have gained deeper compassion or awareness of the systemic struggles and injustices in our society. Maybe you’ve met God in new ways or had an experience of God’s mercy that has expanded your capacity for faith, hope, and love. What blessing are you bringing as we “come home?” 

One of the things I’ve heard so often these many months is how much persons have yearned to be back in this space, to be re-engaged in the vital ministries we share. I have, over the years since becoming part of the Foundry family, tried to remind us not to take it for granted. Perhaps, we come home with a new appreciation for the power of our spiritual home at Foundry. //

The Psalm is clear that God’s grace is at work in the whole process of restoration and sustenance. But the people “bear the seed for sowing.” We have to do something—as our epistle makes quite clear: “If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?” God is always active, always pro

“Unwashed, Unmasked, Unbothered?”

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, August 29, 2021, the fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

    Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

“Is it bad to be really ticked off at people who won’t mask or get vaccinated?” I received this text several weeks ago from a member of the Foundry family. And, since then, I’ve received versions of the same question again and again. Headlines proliferate about the appalling behavior of citizens in school board and city council meetings and clashes between parents, teachers, and governors about the use of masks. And of course there are countless personal stories of church and family strife caused by the divides around vaccination, masking, and other public health protocols related to the COVID-19 pandemic. The accounts I’m reading, and receiving about what some folks are saying and doing really make it seem like we’re experiencing some kind of collective mental break—because either I’m losing my faculties of reason and proportion or a whole bunch of my siblings are.

Other common headlines these days highlight the stories of outspoken anti-vax, anti-mask advocates suffering and dying from the virus. And data points like: “About 99% of deaths today are people who did not get vaccinated. Patients dying in hospitals are telling loved ones they regret not getting the vaccine.” 

But of course any of these last points can and have been brushed off as inaccurate or hyperbole. One article I read chronicled the author’s effort to understand the reasoning of her brother who refuses to get vaccinated. What she receives seems reflective of much of what I’ve heard elsewhere. At the heart of it all, is lack of trust. Many people:

Don’t trust the actual vaccine (side effects and breakthrough cases)

Don’t trust the messengers (politicized–FDA a government organization could have been pressured to approve)

Don’t trust the data (unvaccinated passing to children? Children COVID data vs. other risks… the continued mutations…CDC wrong on a lot?)

The lack of trust is understandable since blatant misinformation has been allowed to spread unchecked all over social media from the start. Also, at the beginning of the pandemic, the former president downplayed the severity of the virus, decided to make masks a symbol of “liberal” oppression instead of a time-tested deterrent against dangerous infectious disease, and treated public health scientists who have decades of faithful service under their belt as if they are the enemy. The reaction—perhaps “overreaction”—from the other side of the aisle to shut and keep most everything shut down, whether it was well-intentioned or not, did its own damage to lives and livelihoods. A headline from the Brookings Institution last September summed up a key point, namely that “Politics is wrecking America’s pandemic response.”

Alongside these concerns is the reality that, as one scholar puts it, “If you aren’t white, you know a history that may make you weary about what the medical sector may be telling you to do.” For those who may not know that history, “The medical establishment has a long history of mistreating Black Americans — from gruesome experiments on enslaved people to the forced sterilizations of Black women and the infamous Tuskegee syphilis study that withheld treatment from hundreds of Black men for decades to let doctors track the course of the disease…” More recent “studies have found Black Americans are consistently undertreated for pain relative to white patients; one revealed half of medical students and residents held one or more false beliefs about supposed biological differences between Black and white patients.” 

Vaccine hesitancy among people of color is understandable due to these factors, though both Dr. Anthony Fauci and Rev. Jesse Jackson have used their platforms to make sure the public knows a leading researcher and developer for the vaccine at the National Institutes of Health is imm

Canceled

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, August 22, 2021, the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

  Text: John 6:56-69

Our Gospel passage is the conclusion of a story that began with Jesus feeding his congregation of more than 5000 people with one child’s lunch. (Jn 6:1-13) It’s a wonderful, crowd-pleasing story. But the next morning, Jesus preaches a sermon and things take a turn. Today we hear the last of many complaints that follow. The complaint making its way through the grapevine of Jesus’ grumbling congregation is, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” Jesus picks up on the grapevine grumbling and asks quite directly, “Does this offend you?” Evidently, the answer for most of the crowd was a resounding “yes.” Most of those in the crowd decided that they could NOT accept what Jesus was saying, that they could NOT accept what Jesus was offering, that they could NOT accept who Jesus WAS and they “turned back and no longer went about with him.”  // Y’all. Jesus got “canceled.” 

For some years now, there’s a thing called “cancel culture” that has been prevalent in public dynamics and has been a focus of concern and debate in the public square and in academia. “Cancel culture” at its most basic refers to the act of withdrawing support for someone or something in response to words or actions that are found to be offensive or inappropriate. There are certainly times when boycotting a business or critiquing an influential public figure’s words or actions are important ways to exert pressure for positive social change. And free speech is a critically important part of a democratic society. But the toxic environment of polarized, easily triggered, dehumanized and dehumanizing, either-or thinking and reactivity has been a perfect breeding ground for a version of “cancel culture” that is quite simply an exercise in public shaming and ostracism. It brands people with a proverbial scarlet letter such that they are no longer seen as worthy of any care, respect, or engagement whatsoever. “Cancel culture” is not unique to one “side” or perspective in our society. There are persons across the spectrum of so-called left to right of the political, religious, or academic spheres who “cancel” people due to perceived disloyalty to their brand of dogmatic purity, prejudice, or discomfort.

To be clear, the focus recently has often been on celebrities or powerful public figures who are not going to have their lives or livelihoods radically altered by the social outcry against them. Their egos and sometimes their jobs may get altered, but not their capacity to live or ultimately thrive. It’s important to recognize that there are some for whom getting publicly shamed—whether they did something egregious or not—really does threaten their lives. My point is simply that the public shaming at the heart of today’s “cancel culture” often leads to no good or more just outcome for anyone or for the larger society.

Today we are reminded that “cancel culture” is not really anything new. Most of those in the crowd—the followers or “disciples of Jesus”—“turned back and no longer went about with him.”  

What was so offensive that people would leave? What got Jesus “canceled” by so many?

Maybe it was the way Jesus talked or that his words were confusing. What does it mean to “abide in” Jesus? And what’s up with this idea that eating and drinking his flesh and blood has something to do with life “in” God? And is Jesus bread? And is it flesh or words that give life? 

And—oh, by the way—gross! Eating human flesh and drinking human blood? Perhaps they couldn’t stomach such talk. It is, by the way, a documented historical fact that there were those who persecuted early Christians due to the accusation that the Lord’s Supper was a cannibalistic rite. 

Maybe offense was taken at the fact that Jesus didn’t seem to be trying to “make nice,” but rather used provocative, earthy, unsentimental words to des

Wisdom At the Intersection

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli for Foundry UMC August 15, 2021, the twelfth Sunday after Pentecost.

Text:  1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14

The story we read in 1 Kings this morning always conjures for me a Genie in a Bottle:  “Ask what I should give you,” God says to Solomon. Sounds pretty awesome…or tempting. We all know stories where the punchline is: “be careful what you wish for.”

If God came to you today with this offer, what would you ask for?  No doubt there would be a variety of answers. A quick internet search to see what people would ask of a Genie who offered three wishes turned up everything from curing illnesses, feeding people, the ability to fly(?), well-being of loved ones, and of course riches, material possessions, good looks, and a perfect romance.  Even a very cursory search on this topic is pretty fascinating.  What would you ask for?

Solomon asks for wisdom.  God is pleased with this request.  But why? What is wisdom? And why does it matter to God?  Should it matter to us?

Let’s begin with what wisdom is NOT.  

Wisdom is not piles of facts and data. In this information age, a steady stream of input is bombarding us (and, increasingly that input is peppered with all sorts of made up stuff). Like water from a firehose, information overwhelms us and numbs us. But with all this information at our fingertips are we any wiser? Are we any closer to God or to God’s design or intentions for life? We may understand how things work; we may be able to describe the pieces, the causes and effects of measurable data. But this is not wisdom. My sense is that there are some people in the world who know a lot of things, who are brilliant with observing and manipulating data and ideas, but who do not possess what anyone would call wisdom. 

Also, wisdom is NOT something that you just “get” if you live long enough, something we automatically receive while passively meandering along the paths of life.  It’s not like a good wine that simply becomes better as it ages. Wisdom must be cultivated—more like the work of the vineyard—in order for it to grow. In other words, wisdom is not guaranteed for adults and it is not beyond the reach of the young. As sister Joan Chittister puts it, “Wisdom is not a passive virtue—wisdom is not just something we soak up if we live long enough not to be able to avoid it. We have to work at getting wisdom or we will live a very shallow life.” Chittister says that wisdom is available for everyone who pays attention to their lives and to God. This paying attention is, it seems, at the heart of how we “work at getting wisdom.” The story is told that soon after the death of the greatest rabbi in the region, a traveler said to one of his disciples, “Your rabbi was renowned for his wisdom.  What did he give greatest attention to in life?”  The disciple thought a minute and said, “To whatever he happened to be doing at the moment.”  

So wisdom is NOT information and data or something we can expect to mature without any effort on our part. But what is it? 

The concept of “wisdom” is translated a number of different ways in different versions of the Bible:  an understanding mind (NRSV), a discerning mind  (CEB), an understanding heart (KJV), a heart with skill to listen (NEB), a hearing heart (ASV), a God-listening heart (MSG).  Translators seem to labor to find a way to capture a union of head (mind), heart (soul/spirit/emotion), and will (discerning, understanding, listening, etc.). So at least one aspect of wisdom is being an integrated person (head, heart, and will) who, as a result, can be fully present in each moment. Maybe that is why some children seem so very wise—for they tend to live in the moment, to see and look around at the world with awe and wonder. And many children haven’t been “dis-integrated” yet… 

This aspect of wisdom is cultivated through doing our own personal work, it requires doing whatever it takes to know enough about yo

To Share In Its Blessings

Stacey Abrams

Aug.08.2021

https://foundryumc.org/archive/living-faith-at-the-intersection

Sermon: Little Voice

Rev. Dr. Lydia E. Muñoz

August 1, 2021

Foundry United Methodist Church, Washington DC

Esther 1: 12

 But Queen Vashti refused to come as the king had ordered through the eunuchs.

Proverbs 1: 20 - 22

Wisdom shouts in the street;    in the public square she raises her voice.21 Above the noisy crowd, she calls out.    At the entrances of the city gates, she has her say:

You should respond when I correct you.    Look, I’ll pour out my spirit on you.    I’ll reveal my words to you.

I wanted to be like men wanted me to be: 

an attempt at life; a game of hide and seek with my being. 

But I was made of nows, 

and my feet level on the promissory earth 

would not accept walking backwards 

and went forward, forward, 

mocking the ashes 

to reach the kiss of new paths.

These are the words of Julia de Burgos García (February 17, 1914 – July 6, 1953)  a Puerto Rican poet and advocate of Puerto Rican independence. She was a civil rights activist for women and Afro-Caribbean.  For many of us Puerto Ricans, her poetry is the feeling that runs through our veins. 

During a time when women were called to conform to the norms of marriage and child bearing, Julia de Burgos seemed to follow her own heart and inner voice making her own pathways that sometimes led her down some unpopular paths and even some mistakes; 3 of them specifically that ended in divorce-men who could not deal with her independent spirit.  But her heart also led her to down a path of creativity born out of a deep desire to see her beloved Island free and her people self-actualized, and she wanted that especially for its poor women. 

I think the hardest thing to do in life is to learn to pay attention to when our bodies speak to us. When that thing, that special sense, when the inklings of our heart speak to us.  Its hard because so many of us do not trust ourselves, because so many of us do not think we are enough. 

Brene Brown says,

“I believe that finding (and speaking with) your authentic voice is essential to being fully alive, connected, and creative. Revealing whom we truly are, what we believe and value, what and whom we love, as well as what keeps us up at night and what gets us up early can be very scary business. Allowing ourselves to be fully seen risks rejection, ridicule, and shame.”

Stepping fully into our voice, therefore, requires complete vulnerability.

I wonder if Vashti knew this?

I wonder if she understood the consequences of following her own inner voice that somehow had enough courage to recognize a bully when she saw one. 

Let me tell you about the bully I’m talking about here…

The opening line of the Book of Esther kind of gives us a clue.  It tells us that these events took place when Ahasuerus, (an easier pronunciation is his other name Xerxes) who conquest was as vast from India to Cush – 127 provinces in all. 

Xerxes was hosting a party to show off all his conquered territories.  This is the same king who insisted on conquering Greece – who wanted to complete the work that his father, Darius the Great could never complete and so plunged his entire energy and kingdom into a series of wars and conquests. 

War means people are killed 

war means that people are taxed, 

war means that usually the most disadvantaged have to give up everything to make it happen

 – and in the scripture reading there is also a hint of this because this particular party that Xerxes throws is about showing off his riches and beautiful treasurers and how great he was. 

This party lasted six months to be exact! Can you imagine? One particular part of the party lasted seven days and was basically a non-stop drinking binge.  Xerxes had ordered his servants for everyone to drink as much as they could. 

At the same time that this drinking competition was happening, Queen Vashti was holding a feast for the women in the palace.  I think there is something between the lines here – maybe Vashti knew what happens when men hungry of war begin to drink like th

SERMON - “ FOR SUCH A TIME AS THIS”

Scripture: Esther 4: 9-17 July 25, 2021

(Celebrating the 65th Anniversary of Full Clergy Rights for UM Clergywomen)Foundry UMC, Washington, DC

There are times when the words in a letter are burned into our memories. Such a letter to me got lost between the move of my first and second pastoral appointments. I had recently been ordained an Elder in Full Connection in the Florida Conference. I suppose I reasoned at the time that it didn’t matter anymore if I kept the letter. But it did matter because I can still quote it today - 47 yrs ago! - from the Chair of the Board of Ordained Ministry in 1974 - “Dear Charlene, You seem to be qualified for ministry, but because you are a woman, there might be issues in the future........ if you think you have a call to ministry, you could try to exercise it in another annual conference.” At the time I received the letter, it still didn’t sink in that I had been turned down royally, and the kind suggestion by the Registrar was to tell me to look elsewhere if I insisted on pursuing my calling. I began to hear all the negative voices in my head. Was I really called? Did I have the capacity to be a pastor? Can I finish seminary? I’m a

failure. The endless loop continued in my head. But more importantly, what was God saying to me? After crying all the way home on my flight from central Fla to the Chicago airport, and then getting to Evanston where I was a student at GETS, I was pretty much paralyzed, and not able to discern God’s voice or presence.

My soul was wounded and my spirit was crushed. But right away, I began to hear other voices speaking to me: from seminary students and faculty, from church friends, from my pastor, from my husband, and especially other women on the path to ordination.

“Don’t give up. Try again even if they said NO to you. Come to my Ann. Conf - we will take you. And most poignant from a professor - don’t let the church rob you of your calling. DON’T LET THE CHURCH ROB YOU OF YOUR CALLING! It’s a long story with several chapters, but suffice it to say that in another year, I applied again to my home conference and was accepted for Deacon’s orders and my first appointment as an Associate pastor. All because a Path was opened up to me by prayer, advocacy, a visit on our seminary campus by a Fla. Leader, a plea from me for another chance, a DS and a Sr. Pastor willing to give me a try and support me, offering me a place to serve. As it turned out, I would be the first female pastor in the Fla. Conference to be appointed to a local church, the first female Elder, the first female DS, and later, much later, the first female bishop in the SEJ.

When a discernment and support team accompanied me for a year as I was being called to the episcopacy, our theme for my candidacy was FOR SUCH A TIME AS THIS. The SEJ had yet to elect a female bishop after 4 quadrenniums of effort to elect gifted women candidates. In a book titled “Women Bishops of The United Methodist Church” Bishop Sharon Rader and Professor Margaret Ann Crain interviewed all the living women bishops of our denomination in 2019. In some way or many ways, all the women bishops have carried the unique and heavy burden of being the first woman - to serve in an appointment, to serve on a Cabinet, to birth a baby in an appointment, to lead on a Conference staff, to lead a delegation to Gen. Conference, and to be elected as bishops. Bishop Judy Craig, who is now in the Communion of Saints, said “When our dust is dust, they’ll remember us as those who did the first thing.” Bishop Susan Morrison stated, “To be claimed for a time such as this in the role I was in and the ability to touch lives is unbelievable. I’m awestruck.” Being firsts also meant being under constant scrutiny of what they said, how they looked, how they led, whether they could preach, how they presided and on and on. The reality is we were all under the stress of charting a new course as cl

A Sermon for Foundry United Methodist Church by Rev. Shalom Agtarap

July 18th, 2021

Genesis 21:14

Focus Statement: When systems are not made for us, god gives us blessing, shows us  compassion, revives us with life-giving water — to go our own way! 

Opening Prayer —  

I am the daughter of Filipino immigrants, hard-working, intelligent, spirit-filled people  who migrated to California. While I am a cradle United Methodist, my sisters and I were  often the only kids of color in a sea of white churches that my father was appointed to.  In ministry, I am a brown woman, ordained in an institution that never sought to ordain  women, much more Southeast Asian women. And my job is to reflect on scripture  compiled without a Hagar in mind. It’s as though I am a plant, whose roots are watered  in another garden. They had to be! If I were to be of any help to the Filipino immigrant  local church that sent me to seminary, I would have to divest from white ways of  knowing, storytelling and preaching. If I were to honor the elders who stuffed $20 bills in  my pocket as they pulled me in for a hug, blessing me in prayer and pocket money, I  would have to learn to bring the gospel to life in ways that honored indigenous ways of  being. The quickest way to dishonor them, would be to hide the parts of myself they  knew and loved and celebrated, in the pursuit of bringing the gospel fully alive. 

A garden opened up in my time at Wesley Seminary, just up the road from Foundry, I  soaked up the water that flowed from womanist, mujerista and other liberation  theologies. But I didn’t know how to hold the tension of being a second-gen Filipino  woman learning theology in a predominantly black and white context.  God-talk facilitated and imagined by people who have lived experience of  marginalization and resilience makes all the difference to our collective liberation but I  still needed to fill in the gaps. I found myself at crossroads many times. Socialized as an  Asian American, I’m taught to not rock the boat and fit in wherever I can. To always  excel, but to do so with great humility. What are you? Where are you from? Where are  you really from? Are questions I’ve been asked all my life and it has only accelerated  since I began serving as a pastor in predominantly white denomination. Instead of  seeing my identities as a curse, however, the gifts of womanist theologies remind me I  come from a place that I can be curious about. That I come from a people. That I come  from a culture. None of these can be erased and all of them are integral to how I  experience the world, to how I understand God at work. 

Womanist theology, I have learned, is a gift of intersections. And a central character who  helps inform this theology is the witness of Hagar in Genesis. 

As Delores Williams wrote in Sisters in the Wilderness, a seminal work in womanist  theology, “there are striking similarities between Hagar’s story and the story of African  American women. Hagar’s heritage was African, from Egypt, scripture says. Hagar was 

enslaved. Black American women had emerged from a slaved heritage and still lived in  its long shadow. Hagar was brutalized by her slave owner the woman named Sarah.  The narratives of enslaved women in the United States and even narratives of modern  day workers tell of brutal or cruel treatment from the wives of slave owners and from  contemporary white female employers.”1 

Hagar continues to speak to us today. Dr. Wil Gafney comments Hagar’s story has a  little something for everyone from enslavement on this continent and elsewhere — to all  the resistance and revolutionary spirit that has ever risen up against oppressive forces.  “Hagar is the mother of Harriet Tubman and the women who freed themselves..I see  God’s return of Hagar to her servitude as the tendency of some religious communities to  side with the abuser at the expense of abused women and their children. Ultimately  Hagar escapes her slaveholders and abus