Sermon Tone Analysis

This month of July, I’ve had a strained relationship with a seagull.

Here at the church, we have a sentinel seagull, one that perches atop the ridge of the building or upon the Northwest corner of the Horizon Room roof.

The past 3 or 4 weeks, this sentinel friend has been there to greet me first thing Sunday morning, when I pull into the parking lot.

For a bit, it likes to squawk at me, alerting me of its presence.

But, typically, seeing that I’m not deterred and plan to exit my car and move across the lot to the kitchen door below, it takes flight.

I enjoy watching seagulls fly around the shoreline, swooping for a bit of food or gathering up in flock to soar above in beautiful patterns.

But, that is not what this seagull does.

Nope.

Instead, this friend goes into full on dive bomb mode.

Wings outstretched, beak down, this fellow swoops down from the perch of the building, directly at me.

The first week, it came down at me and I didn’t really notice, but as I walked to the building, I felt it diving behind me and it even rustled my hair, brushing me with its webbed feet.

Not only does it like to greet me, but it also sends me out the door with a flyby.

Maureen and Kat had the occasion to witness this on the Sunday of Bellingham Pride.

I had finished up with saying my goodbyes from the service and changed into my clergy collar to head down to the festival.

Taking a load of things to my car, Mr. Seagull came a charging at me, bombing me as I scurried to the vehicle.

I turned to hightail it back into the building and the reverse bombing began to commence.

I escaped quickly, or so I thought, to the cover of the passthrough below the Horizon room, only to notice a faint trickle of something down my neck and back.

Yep.

The seagull loosed the bowel cannons upon me that day.

Thank you, again, Maureen, for helping me get cleaned up.

Ugh.

Ok, why tell this story??

Today, we remember that we are co-participants in God’s beautiful creation.

We remember the sacredness of life and all its beauty.

And we also wrestle with what it means, as humanity, to steward and care for this creation.

We’ll come back to the seagull.

But hold it in your mind as we hear our Gospel reading, as it is yet another of God’s creation that is cared for by God and we, as image bearers of God’s design, are so much more so beloved and entrusted with the beauty of this world to care for and build up.

Let’s hear out Gospel reading and remember our role in the sacred interconnection of things and how God lovingly cares for us amidst all that would drive us to worry and feel despair.

Luke 12:22-30 says...

Do Not Worry

(Mt 6:19–21, 25–34)

22 He said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear.

23 For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.

24 Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them.

Of how much more value are you than the birds! 25 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?

26 If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest?

27 Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.

28 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith!

29 And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying.

30 For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them.

Ok, a couple of quick notes on this passage.

One of the traditional ways we interpret the meaning of this passage is often related to possessions — clothing, food, shelter.

Basic needs for survival.

It’s easy for us to take these things for granted.

But if we pull back for a moment from that common reading, what I think is more crucial here is that we look not at our possessions or lack there of, but rather look at the way God has given precedence and responsibility to humanity.

Now, this can quickly get twisted into thinking we’re the only ones who matter, that the earth is sacred only because of our presence and how we utilize it.

But that’s not what’s going on here.

Think about the story of the garden of Eden and the creation of the world.

Each day, God closes by saying that the creation was good.

The stars, the sky, the waters, the earth, the trees, birds, animals, fish, all so very good.

But the culmination of this creation is humanity.

It is with humanity that the story reaches its climax.

Not, obviously we can get a big head over this.

But instead, it’s instructive — we are the end of the very good story and then, God entrusts all the other good things to sacred humanity, beloved children of God.

Genesis 1:28–31 (NRSV)

28 God blessed humanity, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”

29 God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food.

30 And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.”

And it was so.

31 God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.

And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

The sacred, good earth, is now in the hands of humanity, those who bear the sacred soul of the image of God.

This is our work, friends.

If you want to step back and consider what humanity is even for, why we exist, what purpose we have — it’s right here: care for the good, sacred earth God has abundantly blessed us with.

That’s the first and foremost thing — care for creation, love it, love thy neighbors, even the seagulls!

Let’s get back to the seagull.

Honestly, I think I get what’s happening here.

I don’t know if seagulls have facial recognition capabilities like crows do (I have another story about crows, but I’ll save that for another time).

But clearly, this seagull sees me each week and is trying to protect something.

Perhaps there is a nest nearby where I walk up from the parking lot.

That’s a reasonable explanation.

Or maybe they’re a very religious seagull and feel a righteous duty to protect this house of God.

Or maybe they’ve sat atop the sanctuary for so many weeks and listened to my preaching and they’re fed up and they’re trying to get me to stay away (I can’t listen to that guy yammer on one more week!!).

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that this seagull is worried about something and is doing its best to protect and ward off others.

We’ve got similar kinds of worries, right?

This text on worry is so relevant to our struggles today regarding climate change and justice.

I don’t know many folks who do not experience some kind of anxiety, worry, grief, and loss when they begin to see the widespread devastation and impending shifts that are beginning and will occur as our world warms and eco-diversity is threatened.

Worry is a very natural response.

Yet this teaching from Jesus reminds us that there is something greater than our worry.

Our worry exists and again, it’s relevant and natural.

We can’t ignore it.

But what gives me hope as we face a world on the brink is that we have something greater to hold to.

Friends, we are children of the Creator.

If you hear nothing else this morning, listen and remember, you are a beloved child of God.

The person next to you or across the sanctuary from you or the barista who made your coffee today — they are children of God too.

And God’s children are beloved and taken care of by our Creator.

Taken care of, like the birds getting the food they need, the lilies displaying beauty, the seagulls protecting their nests, the rabbits seeking shelter.

And more-so, beloved in such a way that we are blessed with the call to steward creation, not only participate as members of it, but actually make it better, to plant and reap harvest, to cultivate crops and generate food for the nations, to restore habitats of our beloved neighbor species and protect the water that nurtures life and growth.

Have we lost our sense of this?

It seems so, seems like we might need to rekindle the fire of stewardship and care in our collective hearts.

But the way out is not through simply worrying and observing.

The way forward is collaboration and ingenuity, radical improvisation and creativity to confront the great injustices of global climate change.

The work of Christ’s church is to participate in the renewal of all things, not just to wait for it to happen, but to get our hands dirty, literally, and figuratively, getting into the soil of our world and working together to save and support life all around us.

Jesus closes with this instruction and distinction between how God’s people are to function and how the “nations of the world”, the spirits of the age, the broader sentiments of hopelessness might lead us to live.

The way of children of God is to step past worry into concerted effort and action together.

The title of this sermon is “Sacred Earth, Sacred Soul” and it comes from the title of this book by John Philip Newell.

This book also inspires something of the Sacred Earth fair’s intentions, a rekindling of a sacred fire in us to connect and collaborate for the care of creation.

Newell’s writing is all about reclaiming a lost sense of our connection with creation and the sacredness of our calling to care for it.

He writes from the perspective of Celtic Christianity, a rich tradition that sees the deep interconnectedness of all creation, the breath of life that blows in the wind, the earthiness of our work tilling the soil and cultivating life.