Easter 6: May 5, 2024
John 15:9-17
As many times as we hear the word “commandments” this week, it is surprising that we are not supposed to respond with guilt and feelings of inadequacy. The reading from first John tells us that God’s commandments are not burdensome. The reading from Acts teaches us that the Holy Spirit is available to all who hear the word and believe. In the Gospel, we are invited to abide in the love of God. Even better, his wish is that “his joy may be in us, and that our joy may be complete.” The concept of law and gospel, so essential to our Lutheran understanding of scripture, is evident here.
Jesus says that he will no longer call his disciples servants, but friends because he has shared everything with them. The relationship between servant and master is based on law. The master assigns the tasks and the servant does them. While they may be friendly, they are unlikely to be friends. Communication is in the form of imperatives, and it only goes in one direction. While a servant may take pleasure in performing service for a master, and a master can appreciate the work of a servant, it doesn’t feel like a joy-based relationship. Although I doubt that anyone here today has a job title that includes the word servant, we all understand how it feels to do things out of a sense of obligation. Many see their jobs primarily as something that they have to do in order to support themselves and their families. We might see hauling our kids around to practices and events as an obligation sometimes. Most students, when asked why they are at school, will say it is because they have to be. It is easy to find oneself feeling that life is all “have to’s” and no “get to’s.” In my experience, that is not a joyful place.
Too many see religion as an obligation. They have to get up and go to church, convince their kids to come to church, Sunday school, or confirmation. They feel obligated to take their turn on the church council or teaching Sunday school. They resist the obligation of coming to church every Sunday for a whole month and serving as lay readers or ushers. The rest of the week is full of have to’s -- the weekend is for want to’s. This sense of obligation extends beyond church, as we view being faithful mostly as trying to avoid following our human inclination to sin. We should probably swear less, pray more, and read our bibles (or at least a devotional). Following Jesus means giving up what we enjoy.
But there is a difference between joy and enjoy. I enjoy going to the sale barn and leaning on a fence and looking at livestock. Strangely, I also enjoy many things that I do out of a sense of obligation. While visitation is a pastoral obligation and I don’t always look forward to visits, I almost always enjoy the visits. I attend as few meetings as possible, but I generally enjoy those that I do attend. Joy, however, always involves something more. Leaning on the fence looking at livestock is good, but joy is found when I bring a lamb to a nursing home and when children come to the farm and interact with the animals. Visiting with people is good, but working with them and walking alongside them brings joy.
Obligation gets us in the door. Fellowship kicks open that door and brings joy. When we serve without feeling like servants, we are on the right track. God does not motivate by fear or by external rewards because those motivations do not move us. God motivates by love and joy. AMEN
John 15:9-17
As many times as we hear the word “commandments” this week, it is surprising that we are not supposed to respond with guilt and feelings of inadequacy. The reading from first John tells us that God’s commandments are not burdensome. The reading from Acts teaches us that the Holy Spirit is available to all who hear the word and believe. In the Gospel, we are invited to abide in the love of God. Even better, his wish is that “his joy may be in us, and that our joy may be complete.” The concept of law and gospel, so essential to our Lutheran understanding of scripture, is evident here.
Jesus says that he will no longer call his disciples servants, but friends because he has shared everything with them. The relationship between servant and master is based on law. The master assigns the tasks and the servant does them. While they may be friendly, they are unlikely to be friends. Communication is in the form of imperatives, and it only goes in one direction. While a servant may take pleasure in performing service for a master, and a master can appreciate the work of a servant, it doesn’t feel like a joy-based relationship. Although I doubt that anyone here today has a job title that includes the word servant, we all understand how it feels to do things out of a sense of obligation. Many see their jobs primarily as something that they have to do in order to support themselves and their families. We might see hauling our kids around to practices and events as an obligation sometimes. Most students, when asked why they are at school, will say it is because they have to be. It is easy to find oneself feeling that life is all “have to’s” and no “get to’s.” In my experience, that is not a joyful place.
Too many see religion as an obligation. They have to get up and go to church, convince their kids to come to church, Sunday school, or confirmation. They feel obligated to take their turn on the church council or teaching Sunday school. They resist the obligation of coming to church every Sunday for a whole month and serving as lay readers or ushers. The rest of the week is full of have to’s -- the weekend is for want to’s. This sense of obligation extends beyond church, as we view being faithful mostly as trying to avoid following our human inclination to sin. We should probably swear less, pray more, and read our bibles (or at least a devotional). Following Jesus means giving up what we enjoy.
But there is a difference between joy and enjoy. I enjoy going to the sale barn and leaning on a fence and looking at livestock. Strangely, I also enjoy many things that I do out of a sense of obligation. While visitation is a pastoral obligation and I don’t always look forward to visits, I almost always enjoy the visits. I attend as few meetings as possible, but I generally enjoy those that I do attend. Joy, however, always involves something more. Leaning on the fence looking at livestock is good, but joy is found when I bring a lamb to a nursing home and when children come to the farm and interact with the animals. Visiting with people is good, but working with them and walking alongside them brings joy.
Obligation gets us in the door. Fellowship kicks open that door and brings joy. When we serve without feeling like servants, we are on the right track. God does not motivate by fear or by external rewards because those motivations do not move us. God motivates by love and joy. AMEN
Easter 5: April 28
Acts 8:26-40, 1 John 4:7-21, John 15:1-8
This week the lectionary gives us some essential truths, beginning with Jesus’ statements that, “I am the true vine, and my father is the vine grower” and “apart from me you can do nothing.” This statement has profound implications for how we understand what it means to be a person of faith. Think about one of the statements that often gets thrown out when we feel powerless: “God never gives us more than we can handle.” Rather than being reassuring, statements like this leave us questioning both the existence of God and our own ability to persevere. What can we handle without God? Nothing!
In addition to needing God, scripture tells us that we need community. Today’s gospel reading comes from the farewell discourse. Jesus is speaking to the disciples in the time between washing their feet and going with them to the garden, where he will be arrested. It is the Maundy Thursday commandment, “A new commandment I give to you: that you love one another—just as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples—if you have love for one another.” that sets up the next three chapters of John. Our epistle reading from First John reiterates the message in a slightly different light: “Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” When we are tempted to view faith as a private matter, we lose the opportunity for fellowship with God through fellowship with one another.
The story of the Ethiopian eunuch illustrates the other two readings beautifully. The eunuch is a person of some importance and has several advantages in his search for meaning. He can read, he has access to a copy of Isaiah, he can travel to Jerusalem to worship, and he has the time for reading and contemplation. On the other hand, he has been rendered physically unfit to belong in the groups among which he lives. The practice of castrating servants who would be given management responsibility was thought to make them more manageable and trustworthy. While they were a part of the inner workings of governments, they were also relegated to an inferior status. While the eunuch could go to Jerusalem to worship, he would not have been allowed beyond the outer courtyard because he would be seen as unnatural and unholy. In spite of this, or perhaps because of this, we find him reading Isaiah aloud in his chariot. It is no wonder that he is pondering a passage about silently suffering humiliation and injustice. While he is drawn to the passage, he does not know what it means, which brings Philip into the story.
Philip is one of those who has been scattered by Saul’s attempt to destroy the church by going house to house and dragging believers off to prison. Instead of destroying the church, Saul has unwittingly created a new group of prophets and disciples. An angel tells Philip to go to the wilderness road, where he chases down the chariot and speaks to the eunuch. There is a moment where the eunuch’s mind is opened and filled with the meaning of scripture. When water comes into sight, the eunuch says, “what is to prevent me from being baptized?” Philip baptizes him, and is immediately snatched away to Azotus, where he continues to spread the gospel, while the eunuch goes on his way rejoicing.
The thing that lingers with me about these readings is what they have to say about church and community, especially during confirmation season. The message of Jesus has always resonated with outsiders and outliers. As Jesus said, those who are well have no need of a doctor. There is danger that the church might come to view itself as those who are well; this was certainly the case with the church in Jesus’ time. Unless we can come to terms with our terminal sinfulness and helplessness, we cannot truly be the church. Our minds cannot be opened to the gospel until we thirst for it. We cannot spread the good news if we relegate it to Sunday mornings in a building. Most importantly, we cannot become gatekeepers. When someone asks, “what is to prevent me from being baptized?”, we must not hand them a document outlining our requirements. If we are to show others a God that they cannot see, it must be done by loving them. AMEN
Acts 8:26-40, 1 John 4:7-21, John 15:1-8
This week the lectionary gives us some essential truths, beginning with Jesus’ statements that, “I am the true vine, and my father is the vine grower” and “apart from me you can do nothing.” This statement has profound implications for how we understand what it means to be a person of faith. Think about one of the statements that often gets thrown out when we feel powerless: “God never gives us more than we can handle.” Rather than being reassuring, statements like this leave us questioning both the existence of God and our own ability to persevere. What can we handle without God? Nothing!
In addition to needing God, scripture tells us that we need community. Today’s gospel reading comes from the farewell discourse. Jesus is speaking to the disciples in the time between washing their feet and going with them to the garden, where he will be arrested. It is the Maundy Thursday commandment, “A new commandment I give to you: that you love one another—just as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples—if you have love for one another.” that sets up the next three chapters of John. Our epistle reading from First John reiterates the message in a slightly different light: “Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” When we are tempted to view faith as a private matter, we lose the opportunity for fellowship with God through fellowship with one another.
The story of the Ethiopian eunuch illustrates the other two readings beautifully. The eunuch is a person of some importance and has several advantages in his search for meaning. He can read, he has access to a copy of Isaiah, he can travel to Jerusalem to worship, and he has the time for reading and contemplation. On the other hand, he has been rendered physically unfit to belong in the groups among which he lives. The practice of castrating servants who would be given management responsibility was thought to make them more manageable and trustworthy. While they were a part of the inner workings of governments, they were also relegated to an inferior status. While the eunuch could go to Jerusalem to worship, he would not have been allowed beyond the outer courtyard because he would be seen as unnatural and unholy. In spite of this, or perhaps because of this, we find him reading Isaiah aloud in his chariot. It is no wonder that he is pondering a passage about silently suffering humiliation and injustice. While he is drawn to the passage, he does not know what it means, which brings Philip into the story.
Philip is one of those who has been scattered by Saul’s attempt to destroy the church by going house to house and dragging believers off to prison. Instead of destroying the church, Saul has unwittingly created a new group of prophets and disciples. An angel tells Philip to go to the wilderness road, where he chases down the chariot and speaks to the eunuch. There is a moment where the eunuch’s mind is opened and filled with the meaning of scripture. When water comes into sight, the eunuch says, “what is to prevent me from being baptized?” Philip baptizes him, and is immediately snatched away to Azotus, where he continues to spread the gospel, while the eunuch goes on his way rejoicing.
The thing that lingers with me about these readings is what they have to say about church and community, especially during confirmation season. The message of Jesus has always resonated with outsiders and outliers. As Jesus said, those who are well have no need of a doctor. There is danger that the church might come to view itself as those who are well; this was certainly the case with the church in Jesus’ time. Unless we can come to terms with our terminal sinfulness and helplessness, we cannot truly be the church. Our minds cannot be opened to the gospel until we thirst for it. We cannot spread the good news if we relegate it to Sunday mornings in a building. Most importantly, we cannot become gatekeepers. When someone asks, “what is to prevent me from being baptized?”, we must not hand them a document outlining our requirements. If we are to show others a God that they cannot see, it must be done by loving them. AMEN
Easter 4: April 21 (Confirmation Sunday at Saron)
John 10:11-18
All the talk of laying down one’s life on this, Good Shepherd Sunday, has called to mind the commendation that we use at funerals:
Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant _______.
Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him/her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen
It is also confirmation Sunday at Saron. Imagine if we asked confirmands, “Are you willing to lay down your life for your friends?” At the very least, that would get the attention of the confirmands and their families. Is that the kind of commitment that we are looking for? My answer is yes, but not in the way that you might think.
Jesus literally gave his life not only for his friends but for all of humanity -- the good, the bad and the indifferent. I don’t believe that we are being asked to be willing to die for our faith or our friends; we just don’t live in a time and place where this is called for. For the confirmands (and the rest of us) laying down our lives means setting aside our old selves in order to become something new and better. Even this is not nearly as big of a sacrifice as it might appear at first glance. We are not being asked to leave our friends, family and the comforts of home behind in favor of an isolated hut or cave where we will spend our remaining lives in seclusion. Instead, we are called to live differently within the spaces that we occupy.
Our sense of obligation and reward needs to be rewired so that we are not driven by the pursuit of wealth and personal satisfaction. I appreciate the way that this is stated in our reading from First John: “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?”
When asked which was the greatest commandment, Jesus replied that we are to love the Lord with all our heart, all our mind, and all our souls and to love our neighbor as ourselves. In doing this, we fulfill all of the other commandments. This takes reflection and repentance. We turn away from sin and toward God -- away from selfishness and toward selflessness. AMEN
John 10:11-18
All the talk of laying down one’s life on this, Good Shepherd Sunday, has called to mind the commendation that we use at funerals:
Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant _______.
Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him/her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen
It is also confirmation Sunday at Saron. Imagine if we asked confirmands, “Are you willing to lay down your life for your friends?” At the very least, that would get the attention of the confirmands and their families. Is that the kind of commitment that we are looking for? My answer is yes, but not in the way that you might think.
Jesus literally gave his life not only for his friends but for all of humanity -- the good, the bad and the indifferent. I don’t believe that we are being asked to be willing to die for our faith or our friends; we just don’t live in a time and place where this is called for. For the confirmands (and the rest of us) laying down our lives means setting aside our old selves in order to become something new and better. Even this is not nearly as big of a sacrifice as it might appear at first glance. We are not being asked to leave our friends, family and the comforts of home behind in favor of an isolated hut or cave where we will spend our remaining lives in seclusion. Instead, we are called to live differently within the spaces that we occupy.
Our sense of obligation and reward needs to be rewired so that we are not driven by the pursuit of wealth and personal satisfaction. I appreciate the way that this is stated in our reading from First John: “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?”
When asked which was the greatest commandment, Jesus replied that we are to love the Lord with all our heart, all our mind, and all our souls and to love our neighbor as ourselves. In doing this, we fulfill all of the other commandments. This takes reflection and repentance. We turn away from sin and toward God -- away from selfishness and toward selflessness. AMEN
Easter 3: April 14, 2024
Luke 24:36-48
“While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’” Today’s gospel reading follows the account of Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus, with which it has much in common. Most importantly, both show how Jesus can open our minds to understand the scriptures. The Emmaus story has Jesus explaining the scriptures to two disciples who fail to recognize him until he breaks bread with them. Only then do they remark how their hearts had burned within them while Jesus was teaching them. When the two return to Jerusalem, the other disciples are discussing how Jesus has also appeared to Peter. Along with the women who had been at the tomb, there are now at least five among them who have witnessed the resurrected Christ. Even so, when Jesus appears, they are “startled and terrified, thinking that they were seeing a ghost.” As I said last week, doubt is no obstacle to God. In today’s reading, Jesus eats in their presence before opening their minds.
These two passages set the tone for what it means to be church. We come together with a mixture of mindsets and emotions, including joy, disbelief and wonder. Wonder is a term that is often connected to childhood as in, “a childlike sense of wonder,” and we are certainly in a wondrous season. There are so many questions about the resurrection, but we may feel childlike asking them: If Jesus still had the holes in his hands, feet and sides, why wasn’t he bleeding all over the place? If the resurrected Jesus was a person again, how could he show in locked rooms and disappear? Now that Jesus is in heaven, is he still human? What about when he comes back? It is not the role of the church to answer these questions. Instead, the church provides a community in which wonder and wondering can be shared. Through the sacrament of Holy Communion, that sharing extends through the Communion of Saints and straight to Jesus. AMEN
Luke 24:36-48
“While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’” Today’s gospel reading follows the account of Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus, with which it has much in common. Most importantly, both show how Jesus can open our minds to understand the scriptures. The Emmaus story has Jesus explaining the scriptures to two disciples who fail to recognize him until he breaks bread with them. Only then do they remark how their hearts had burned within them while Jesus was teaching them. When the two return to Jerusalem, the other disciples are discussing how Jesus has also appeared to Peter. Along with the women who had been at the tomb, there are now at least five among them who have witnessed the resurrected Christ. Even so, when Jesus appears, they are “startled and terrified, thinking that they were seeing a ghost.” As I said last week, doubt is no obstacle to God. In today’s reading, Jesus eats in their presence before opening their minds.
These two passages set the tone for what it means to be church. We come together with a mixture of mindsets and emotions, including joy, disbelief and wonder. Wonder is a term that is often connected to childhood as in, “a childlike sense of wonder,” and we are certainly in a wondrous season. There are so many questions about the resurrection, but we may feel childlike asking them: If Jesus still had the holes in his hands, feet and sides, why wasn’t he bleeding all over the place? If the resurrected Jesus was a person again, how could he show in locked rooms and disappear? Now that Jesus is in heaven, is he still human? What about when he comes back? It is not the role of the church to answer these questions. Instead, the church provides a community in which wonder and wondering can be shared. Through the sacrament of Holy Communion, that sharing extends through the Communion of Saints and straight to Jesus. AMEN
Easter 2: April 7th
Acts 4:32-35, 1 John 1:1-10, 2:1-2, John 20:19-31
All four gospels end with a surprising degree of doubt. Just before Jesus gives the disciples the Great Commission, Matthew reports: “When (the disciples) saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.” The longer ending of Mark has both Mary Magdalene and two unnamed disciples reporting that they have seen the risen Christ and the disciples not believing them. In Luke, the disciples dismiss the report of the women who have returned from the tomb as “an idle tale,” and John gives us the story of “Doubting Thomas.” We don’t know why Thomas was not present when Jesus appeared, but we do know that the other disciples are hiding out of fear. It is possible that Thomas was the only disciple not to see Jesus even though he was the only disciple actively looking for Jesus. Excuse the pun, but look at the situation in light of this passage from the second lesson: “If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.”
This parallels the idea that if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. It seems that sin and doubt are interwoven, but not in the way that we are accustomed to thinking about them. We tell ourselves, or the world tells us, that sin is the opposite of righteousness, and that doubt is the opposite of faith. We forget that sin is a universal human condition and that righteousness comes only through grace. More dangerously, we equate certainty with faith.
This leaves us ill-equipped to deal with doubt, which I would argue is also part of the human condition. It also leads to a great deal of confusion about prayer.
Do you believe that God speaks -- that God has not been silent for the past couple of centuries? Do you believe that God speaks to you? Ten disciples saw Jesus, yet a week later they were still locked in the upper room. The eleventh disciple demanded not only to see for himself, but to thrust his hand where the sword had pierced Jesus. While it seems that Jesus chides Thomas for doubting, this is the most honest response to the resurrection. It is one thing for us to shout (or at least say loudly) Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! on Easter morning, it is another thing to believe it. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe points to a deeper relationship with God.
What do we do when prayer doesn’t seem to be working, when we feel that we are sinking and that God’s hand is not reaching out to us? The sickness is not healed, the addiction is stronger than anything that can be said or done about it, the abuse continues… What do we do when it seems that we’ve exhausted every way that we know to pray and we haven’t gotten any closer to knowing what to do? These are questions that I’ve wrestled with in my own life and as I’ve walked alongside others, and there is not a simple answer. The only thing that (I think) I know for sure is that we are not to say that we are in fellowship with God while we are walking in darkness, whether that darkness is sin or despair. AMEN
Acts 4:32-35, 1 John 1:1-10, 2:1-2, John 20:19-31
All four gospels end with a surprising degree of doubt. Just before Jesus gives the disciples the Great Commission, Matthew reports: “When (the disciples) saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.” The longer ending of Mark has both Mary Magdalene and two unnamed disciples reporting that they have seen the risen Christ and the disciples not believing them. In Luke, the disciples dismiss the report of the women who have returned from the tomb as “an idle tale,” and John gives us the story of “Doubting Thomas.” We don’t know why Thomas was not present when Jesus appeared, but we do know that the other disciples are hiding out of fear. It is possible that Thomas was the only disciple not to see Jesus even though he was the only disciple actively looking for Jesus. Excuse the pun, but look at the situation in light of this passage from the second lesson: “If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.”
This parallels the idea that if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. It seems that sin and doubt are interwoven, but not in the way that we are accustomed to thinking about them. We tell ourselves, or the world tells us, that sin is the opposite of righteousness, and that doubt is the opposite of faith. We forget that sin is a universal human condition and that righteousness comes only through grace. More dangerously, we equate certainty with faith.
This leaves us ill-equipped to deal with doubt, which I would argue is also part of the human condition. It also leads to a great deal of confusion about prayer.
Do you believe that God speaks -- that God has not been silent for the past couple of centuries? Do you believe that God speaks to you? Ten disciples saw Jesus, yet a week later they were still locked in the upper room. The eleventh disciple demanded not only to see for himself, but to thrust his hand where the sword had pierced Jesus. While it seems that Jesus chides Thomas for doubting, this is the most honest response to the resurrection. It is one thing for us to shout (or at least say loudly) Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! on Easter morning, it is another thing to believe it. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe points to a deeper relationship with God.
What do we do when prayer doesn’t seem to be working, when we feel that we are sinking and that God’s hand is not reaching out to us? The sickness is not healed, the addiction is stronger than anything that can be said or done about it, the abuse continues… What do we do when it seems that we’ve exhausted every way that we know to pray and we haven’t gotten any closer to knowing what to do? These are questions that I’ve wrestled with in my own life and as I’ve walked alongside others, and there is not a simple answer. The only thing that (I think) I know for sure is that we are not to say that we are in fellowship with God while we are walking in darkness, whether that darkness is sin or despair. AMEN
Easter: March 31, 2024
Mark 16:1-16
Easter morning for the two Marys was a journey from worry to alarm to terror and amazement. Jesus was dead, and it was their job to anoint him. As they walked, they discussed who might roll the stone away from the tomb. They had watched the crucifixion, so they had no doubt that Jesus was dead. This solemn morning was not the time for them to discuss what would come next for the women who had traveled with and provided for Jesus. The task at hand was to properly care for Jesus’ body. Finding the stone rolled away, they entered the tomb, apparently without any trepidation. It’s hard to tell whether their alarm came from the fact that there was a young man sitting in the tomb or that Jesus was not there. The young man’s reassurance, ““Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him.” might have helped once the women had time to remember that Jesus had predicted this three times, but it was simply too much to accept at the spur of the moment. Mark’s gospel ends, “terror and amazement had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
This ending feels unsatisfying to the point where several others have been tacked on. Surely they couldn’t keep this news to themselves! And, of course, they didn’t. Mark knew, and so did those for whom he was writing, that the disciples had made their way to Galilee and had been met there by Jesus. Just as Mark’s gospel began not with the nativity but with the proclamation of John the Baptist, it ends not with post-resurrection appearances or the ascension, but with the empty tomb.
Until the Transfiguration, Jesus has been healing people and telling parables, almost exclusively in the Galilee area. After the transfiguration, Jesus tells the disciples not to talk about what they have seen until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead. At that point, Jesus continues to prepare his disciples as they make their way to Jerusalem and his death.
As we gather this morning, we take comfort from the fact that Jesus died for us and lifted us up with him at the resurrection. We might even feel like we understand how that all works. Instead, we should embrace our uncertainty just as the Apostles must have. For them, the empty tomb was not proof that everything that they had been taught was true: the tumblers of their minds didn’t suddenly unlock. Instead, it was an invitation to go back to the beginning and start over. Jesus had taken care to explain his teachings to them, and now they would be able to understand them at a deeper level. The gospels are not just the teachings of Jesus as best as they could be remembered after the fact. Just as Jesus was the Word made flesh, the gospels come alive when we share them and ponder them in light of the fact that Jesus has saved us. Every time that we hear the Word, we can find something new in it. When we try to live in a manner that honors the Word, our eyes are opened to the goodness of God and the possibilities of His Kingdom.
The empty tomb is not the end of the story, and neither is the ascension. Even the return of the Lord is not the final act in the eternal story, but simply the end of an act. AMEN
Mark 16:1-16
Easter morning for the two Marys was a journey from worry to alarm to terror and amazement. Jesus was dead, and it was their job to anoint him. As they walked, they discussed who might roll the stone away from the tomb. They had watched the crucifixion, so they had no doubt that Jesus was dead. This solemn morning was not the time for them to discuss what would come next for the women who had traveled with and provided for Jesus. The task at hand was to properly care for Jesus’ body. Finding the stone rolled away, they entered the tomb, apparently without any trepidation. It’s hard to tell whether their alarm came from the fact that there was a young man sitting in the tomb or that Jesus was not there. The young man’s reassurance, ““Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him.” might have helped once the women had time to remember that Jesus had predicted this three times, but it was simply too much to accept at the spur of the moment. Mark’s gospel ends, “terror and amazement had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
This ending feels unsatisfying to the point where several others have been tacked on. Surely they couldn’t keep this news to themselves! And, of course, they didn’t. Mark knew, and so did those for whom he was writing, that the disciples had made their way to Galilee and had been met there by Jesus. Just as Mark’s gospel began not with the nativity but with the proclamation of John the Baptist, it ends not with post-resurrection appearances or the ascension, but with the empty tomb.
Until the Transfiguration, Jesus has been healing people and telling parables, almost exclusively in the Galilee area. After the transfiguration, Jesus tells the disciples not to talk about what they have seen until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead. At that point, Jesus continues to prepare his disciples as they make their way to Jerusalem and his death.
As we gather this morning, we take comfort from the fact that Jesus died for us and lifted us up with him at the resurrection. We might even feel like we understand how that all works. Instead, we should embrace our uncertainty just as the Apostles must have. For them, the empty tomb was not proof that everything that they had been taught was true: the tumblers of their minds didn’t suddenly unlock. Instead, it was an invitation to go back to the beginning and start over. Jesus had taken care to explain his teachings to them, and now they would be able to understand them at a deeper level. The gospels are not just the teachings of Jesus as best as they could be remembered after the fact. Just as Jesus was the Word made flesh, the gospels come alive when we share them and ponder them in light of the fact that Jesus has saved us. Every time that we hear the Word, we can find something new in it. When we try to live in a manner that honors the Word, our eyes are opened to the goodness of God and the possibilities of His Kingdom.
The empty tomb is not the end of the story, and neither is the ascension. Even the return of the Lord is not the final act in the eternal story, but simply the end of an act. AMEN
Palm/Passion Sunday: March 24
Before Moses led the people out of Egypt, God sent twelve plagues. While one might imagine that his intervention on their behalf made Moses a hero among the people, the opposite is true. From the time that he returned to Egypt and asked Pharaoh to free the people, the lives of the people had gotten harder. Pharaoh forced the people to produce the same number of bricks that they had always produced while no longer providing them with the straw needed for production. This left the people exhausted and angry, and it seemed to them that all that Moses was concerned about was their being allowed to worship rather than what they saw as more immediate and pressing needs. Although the people didn’t know it, God had hardened Pharaoh's heart, so there was never a chance that he would willingly let them go. After the ninth plague, Pharaoh told Moses that if he ever saw him again, he would kill him. It was at this point that Moses was given instructions for Passover, at the heart of which was the Paschal Lamb. Each household was to select, slaughter, and consume a lamb and then mark their doorposts with the blood of that lamb. Whatever remained of the lamb was to be burned before morning. They were to eat it hurriedly, fully dressed and ready to leave. Having done this, they would be spared from the tenth plague and set free to go to the Promised Land. Every year thereafter, they were to celebrate the Passover with a Festival of Unleavened Bread.
As a Jew, Jesus likely attended the Passover in Jerusalem every year of his life. It was and is a perpetual ordinance from God that the People observe how God delivered them from slavery to the Promised Land. As Jesus entered Jerusalem for his final Passover, he did so as the Paschal Lamb came to slaughter. Even as his disciples bicker about who will be seated at his right and left hands in paradise, Jesus heals the blind and cleanses the Temple. The Pharisees and scribes unsuccessfully challenge his authority, he denounces them, is anointed and prepared for burial, and orders preparations to be made for the Passover meal. At the meal, as the disciples continue to bicker, he tells them that he is offering himself as a sacrifice to seal a new covenant for all people with his blood. Peter is told that he will deny Jesus three times, Judas is dispatched to serve his role as the betrayer, and Jesus goes to the garden to pray. Indeed, betrayal and denial follow, and the disciples flee in terror as Jesus allows himself to be arrested. With each step, Jesus has gone deeper and deeper into the heart of what it means to be the lamb. All that is left is the descent into the tomb.
While all of the Gospels share a great deal of Jesus’ teaching in the final week of his life, the centerpiece for Holy Week is the new commandment included in John’s Farewell Discourse following Jesus washing the feet of the disciples: “Where I am going, you cannot come. I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
We will be known by our love for one another. I am reminded of the process of grafting an orphan lamb onto a ewe. Ewes know their lambs by scent, and there are many methods that shepherds use to confuse the scent: skin grafting, slime grafting, and introducing another strong scent are a few. The ewe can also be tied up or put in a stanchion until she accepts the new lamb. All of that is temporary. Full acceptance only happens once the ewes milk has passed through the lamb and she can smell it when she nudges the lamb under its tail, and you can’t fake that. AMEN
Before Moses led the people out of Egypt, God sent twelve plagues. While one might imagine that his intervention on their behalf made Moses a hero among the people, the opposite is true. From the time that he returned to Egypt and asked Pharaoh to free the people, the lives of the people had gotten harder. Pharaoh forced the people to produce the same number of bricks that they had always produced while no longer providing them with the straw needed for production. This left the people exhausted and angry, and it seemed to them that all that Moses was concerned about was their being allowed to worship rather than what they saw as more immediate and pressing needs. Although the people didn’t know it, God had hardened Pharaoh's heart, so there was never a chance that he would willingly let them go. After the ninth plague, Pharaoh told Moses that if he ever saw him again, he would kill him. It was at this point that Moses was given instructions for Passover, at the heart of which was the Paschal Lamb. Each household was to select, slaughter, and consume a lamb and then mark their doorposts with the blood of that lamb. Whatever remained of the lamb was to be burned before morning. They were to eat it hurriedly, fully dressed and ready to leave. Having done this, they would be spared from the tenth plague and set free to go to the Promised Land. Every year thereafter, they were to celebrate the Passover with a Festival of Unleavened Bread.
As a Jew, Jesus likely attended the Passover in Jerusalem every year of his life. It was and is a perpetual ordinance from God that the People observe how God delivered them from slavery to the Promised Land. As Jesus entered Jerusalem for his final Passover, he did so as the Paschal Lamb came to slaughter. Even as his disciples bicker about who will be seated at his right and left hands in paradise, Jesus heals the blind and cleanses the Temple. The Pharisees and scribes unsuccessfully challenge his authority, he denounces them, is anointed and prepared for burial, and orders preparations to be made for the Passover meal. At the meal, as the disciples continue to bicker, he tells them that he is offering himself as a sacrifice to seal a new covenant for all people with his blood. Peter is told that he will deny Jesus three times, Judas is dispatched to serve his role as the betrayer, and Jesus goes to the garden to pray. Indeed, betrayal and denial follow, and the disciples flee in terror as Jesus allows himself to be arrested. With each step, Jesus has gone deeper and deeper into the heart of what it means to be the lamb. All that is left is the descent into the tomb.
While all of the Gospels share a great deal of Jesus’ teaching in the final week of his life, the centerpiece for Holy Week is the new commandment included in John’s Farewell Discourse following Jesus washing the feet of the disciples: “Where I am going, you cannot come. I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
We will be known by our love for one another. I am reminded of the process of grafting an orphan lamb onto a ewe. Ewes know their lambs by scent, and there are many methods that shepherds use to confuse the scent: skin grafting, slime grafting, and introducing another strong scent are a few. The ewe can also be tied up or put in a stanchion until she accepts the new lamb. All of that is temporary. Full acceptance only happens once the ewes milk has passed through the lamb and she can smell it when she nudges the lamb under its tail, and you can’t fake that. AMEN
Lent 5: March 17, 2024
John 12:20-33
Sometimes a simple phrase strikes home. For me this week, it is: “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.” This phrase applies to Jesus because it is only through his suffering, death and resurrection that the disciples are able to remember and understand what he has taught them. For any of his followers who wondered why Jesus had no interest in power or fame, the crucifixion could have been the end. It almost was the end for the disciples, as they were overwhelmed by fear in the aftermath of the killing of Jesus. How could they have been expected to understand the idea that Jesus being lifted up first on the cross, then from the grave, and then into heaven would result in his drawing all people to himself? Those Greeks who asked to see Jesus were going to get much more than they bargained for! Jesus didn’t die for our sins because someone had to pay, he brought us and all of our baggage with him to the cross so that the New Covenant could be fulfilled.
The metaphor of the wheat seed also makes it clear what it means to love or hate our lives. Each of us carries the potential for eternal life with God in the same way that a seed has the potential for growth. In gardening and agriculture, seeds are generally put where they will have the best chance of being productive, yet they won’t all grow or yield well. In nature, the fate of a seed is much less predictable. Wind, birds, and animals take the seeds to a variety of places. While many never grow, some are hearty enough to grow in cracks in rock or other places seemingly unfit for growth. When we focus our energy on preserving this life and all that goes with it, we do not grow. It is only when we surrender our lives into the hand of God that we grow. AMEN
John 12:20-33
Sometimes a simple phrase strikes home. For me this week, it is: “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.” This phrase applies to Jesus because it is only through his suffering, death and resurrection that the disciples are able to remember and understand what he has taught them. For any of his followers who wondered why Jesus had no interest in power or fame, the crucifixion could have been the end. It almost was the end for the disciples, as they were overwhelmed by fear in the aftermath of the killing of Jesus. How could they have been expected to understand the idea that Jesus being lifted up first on the cross, then from the grave, and then into heaven would result in his drawing all people to himself? Those Greeks who asked to see Jesus were going to get much more than they bargained for! Jesus didn’t die for our sins because someone had to pay, he brought us and all of our baggage with him to the cross so that the New Covenant could be fulfilled.
The metaphor of the wheat seed also makes it clear what it means to love or hate our lives. Each of us carries the potential for eternal life with God in the same way that a seed has the potential for growth. In gardening and agriculture, seeds are generally put where they will have the best chance of being productive, yet they won’t all grow or yield well. In nature, the fate of a seed is much less predictable. Wind, birds, and animals take the seeds to a variety of places. While many never grow, some are hearty enough to grow in cracks in rock or other places seemingly unfit for growth. When we focus our energy on preserving this life and all that goes with it, we do not grow. It is only when we surrender our lives into the hand of God that we grow. AMEN
Lent 4: March 10, 2024
John 3:14-21
For God so loved the world -- the disobedient, the children of wrath, those who are dead through their sin, those who do evil, and even those who hate the light -- that he not only sent his only son, but raised him up, first on the cross and then from the dead -- so that whosoever believes -- not Jews or Greeks or Lutherans or Catholics or Republicans or Democrats or men or women or people with a certain color of skin or from a certain part of the world -- would not be perish but would have eternal life. The first two readings tell us that this happened in spite of the fact that, from the beginning, humanity has tended to prefer the darkness to the light. Adam and Eve trusted the serpent when it told them that God had lied to them. The chosen people begged to be returned to slavery in Egypt rather than continuing to follow God and Moses. Even so, God sent his son to die and to be raised up for us, and not even our indifference, apathy, or even outright hatred of the light could overcome it.
As the people in the wilderness had to turn toward the image of their sinfulness in order to live, so must we turn. The darkness can be comforting because we believe that it hides us -- that we can keep our sinful nature covered if we tend carefully enough to outward appearances. Surely God has better things to do than to look into the dark corners of our lives -- and John tells us that this is so. Jesus did not come to condemn because we have already condemned ourselves. In order to begin living the “eternal life,” we must step into the light and full exposure. Of course, God knows our hearts already; we are to take advantage of the light to see the good and the bad in ourselves so that we can lay it all at Jesus’ feet. AMEN
John 3:14-21
For God so loved the world -- the disobedient, the children of wrath, those who are dead through their sin, those who do evil, and even those who hate the light -- that he not only sent his only son, but raised him up, first on the cross and then from the dead -- so that whosoever believes -- not Jews or Greeks or Lutherans or Catholics or Republicans or Democrats or men or women or people with a certain color of skin or from a certain part of the world -- would not be perish but would have eternal life. The first two readings tell us that this happened in spite of the fact that, from the beginning, humanity has tended to prefer the darkness to the light. Adam and Eve trusted the serpent when it told them that God had lied to them. The chosen people begged to be returned to slavery in Egypt rather than continuing to follow God and Moses. Even so, God sent his son to die and to be raised up for us, and not even our indifference, apathy, or even outright hatred of the light could overcome it.
As the people in the wilderness had to turn toward the image of their sinfulness in order to live, so must we turn. The darkness can be comforting because we believe that it hides us -- that we can keep our sinful nature covered if we tend carefully enough to outward appearances. Surely God has better things to do than to look into the dark corners of our lives -- and John tells us that this is so. Jesus did not come to condemn because we have already condemned ourselves. In order to begin living the “eternal life,” we must step into the light and full exposure. Of course, God knows our hearts already; we are to take advantage of the light to see the good and the bad in ourselves so that we can lay it all at Jesus’ feet. AMEN
Lent 3: March 3
John 2:13-22
I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other God’s: not idols, not wealth, not wisdom, not even your manner of worshiping me. That’s not exactly how the commandment goes, but it is the message of our readings today. On the third new moon after leaving Egypt, the Israelites camped at the foot of Mount Saini, where God gives Moses a message for them:”‘You have seen what I did to the Egyptians and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now, therefore, if you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession out of all the peoples. Indeed, the whole earth is mine, but you shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.” When the elders hear the message, they reply: “Everything that the Lord has spoken we will do.” Three days later, God gives Moses the Ten Commandments. It might seem odd that a God who delivered his people from slavery would have them travel for 90 days and then give them a list of rules. If the people were left to their own devices, feasting, drinking and dancing would have been their preference. Even those who stood at the foot of Mount Saini as the voice of God thundered through the smoke that surrounded it were unable to hear the first commandment for what it meant: I have set you free. There is no longer need for you to be enslaved to anyone or anything.
In the epistle, Paul theorizes that God responded to that lack of understanding by sending his Son to be crucified -- an act that in no way aligns with human wisdom. This transformed the message from words into an action that could be believed without being understood. Faith is not the result of wisdom. The first step in understanding the resurrection is understanding that we cannot understand the resurrection. The crucifixion and resurrection don’t foster belief because they show what God can do. They are not simply signs. They are acts of love beyond our comprehension.
How, then, does the gospel reading fit? It is the year of Mark, and Mark places this story in Holy Week, yet we read the account from John, where it occurs at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. The answer comes when we look at Jesus’ actions at the temple in light of the first commandment. All of the commerce at the Temple was built on good intent. It was Passover, and people needed to make sacrifices to God. Since people were coming from all over, there needed to be a place to exchange money and a way to purchase animals to sacrifice. Perhaps there was some profiteering going on. Maybe those caring for the animals should have been more conscientious in keeping the area clean. But these hardly seem like reasons for Jesus to take the time to fashion a whip, drive all of the animals from the temple and overturn the tables. No, Jesus was angry because the ritual had overtaken the reason. Thoughts of thankfulness and praise had been replaced by concern for what should be placed on the altar and how much it might cost.
This is a message that we need to take to heart. Our stated mission is to work together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond, yet so much of what we do as church has little or nothing to do with that mission. As your pastor, I think about when I’m going to get my sermon written, how I can lead a worship that is inoffensive and engaging, who I should visit, when I’m going to be able to sneak off and play with my granddaughters, when my sheep are going to lamb, and a plethora of other things. While there is nothing really wrong with any of those lines of thought, they all lack meaning unless they are connected to our mission. Similarly, council meetings about furnaces, furnishings and facilities are necessary but unconnected to our mission. If Jesus came to my office or to our churches, what might he drive out or flip over? AMEN
John 2:13-22
I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other God’s: not idols, not wealth, not wisdom, not even your manner of worshiping me. That’s not exactly how the commandment goes, but it is the message of our readings today. On the third new moon after leaving Egypt, the Israelites camped at the foot of Mount Saini, where God gives Moses a message for them:”‘You have seen what I did to the Egyptians and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now, therefore, if you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession out of all the peoples. Indeed, the whole earth is mine, but you shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.” When the elders hear the message, they reply: “Everything that the Lord has spoken we will do.” Three days later, God gives Moses the Ten Commandments. It might seem odd that a God who delivered his people from slavery would have them travel for 90 days and then give them a list of rules. If the people were left to their own devices, feasting, drinking and dancing would have been their preference. Even those who stood at the foot of Mount Saini as the voice of God thundered through the smoke that surrounded it were unable to hear the first commandment for what it meant: I have set you free. There is no longer need for you to be enslaved to anyone or anything.
In the epistle, Paul theorizes that God responded to that lack of understanding by sending his Son to be crucified -- an act that in no way aligns with human wisdom. This transformed the message from words into an action that could be believed without being understood. Faith is not the result of wisdom. The first step in understanding the resurrection is understanding that we cannot understand the resurrection. The crucifixion and resurrection don’t foster belief because they show what God can do. They are not simply signs. They are acts of love beyond our comprehension.
How, then, does the gospel reading fit? It is the year of Mark, and Mark places this story in Holy Week, yet we read the account from John, where it occurs at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. The answer comes when we look at Jesus’ actions at the temple in light of the first commandment. All of the commerce at the Temple was built on good intent. It was Passover, and people needed to make sacrifices to God. Since people were coming from all over, there needed to be a place to exchange money and a way to purchase animals to sacrifice. Perhaps there was some profiteering going on. Maybe those caring for the animals should have been more conscientious in keeping the area clean. But these hardly seem like reasons for Jesus to take the time to fashion a whip, drive all of the animals from the temple and overturn the tables. No, Jesus was angry because the ritual had overtaken the reason. Thoughts of thankfulness and praise had been replaced by concern for what should be placed on the altar and how much it might cost.
This is a message that we need to take to heart. Our stated mission is to work together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond, yet so much of what we do as church has little or nothing to do with that mission. As your pastor, I think about when I’m going to get my sermon written, how I can lead a worship that is inoffensive and engaging, who I should visit, when I’m going to be able to sneak off and play with my granddaughters, when my sheep are going to lamb, and a plethora of other things. While there is nothing really wrong with any of those lines of thought, they all lack meaning unless they are connected to our mission. Similarly, council meetings about furnaces, furnishings and facilities are necessary but unconnected to our mission. If Jesus came to my office or to our churches, what might he drive out or flip over? AMEN
Lent 2: February 25
Mark 8:31-38
We come to this text fresh from God’s covenant with Abraham and Paul’s explanation of why that covenant worked. We have heard that the covenant with man and God is reciprocal, but not in the way that we think (or that we are likely to be comfortable with). We are most comfortable in our dealings when we can calculate the cost and reduce our contract to a simple if/then relationship. For example, the idea that if we follow the ten commandments, then God will be pleased is seductive in its simplicity. It doesn’t take long, however, to realize that we are not capable of following all of the commandments all of the time. Abraham likely would have preferred to be told, “If you leave your home and follow me, then, at a specified time or date, you will have the first of many sons. The end result will be that your descendants will be my chosen people forever.” While he did get most of that promise, it happened on God’s time.
Living with that uncertainty is what made God’s covenant with Abraham work. While Abraham and Sarah doubted their ability to conceive once they reached their nineties, they remained faithful. This faith was not broken when Abraham questioned God because when God’s response was, “wait and see,” Abraham could live with that. Paul tells us that this, not adherence to the law, added up to righteousness.
The gospel reading draws us right back into uncertainty. Peter can’t reconcile his idea of what it means to be Messiah with Jesus’ statement that he must suffer, die, and rise again. He seems to want Jesus to see that there must be a way that is easier on and for all of them. Jesus then attempts to explain to the disciples and all who are gathered the difference between setting one’s mind on the divine and setting it on the human. Humans want to be safe and comfortable. Of course they want to survive, but they want to do so in style. As Jesus says, we want the world. We would also like to know what the price of such a life might be. What do we need to give or do in order to please God and keep the blessings coming? Jesus points out that there is nothing that we can do or offer that will be enough to pay God back for the gift that is our very lives. The result is that the path to worldly satisfaction is not the path to righteousness. We need to bear the cross of our mortality and strive for the things that do not perish. AMEN
Mark 8:31-38
We come to this text fresh from God’s covenant with Abraham and Paul’s explanation of why that covenant worked. We have heard that the covenant with man and God is reciprocal, but not in the way that we think (or that we are likely to be comfortable with). We are most comfortable in our dealings when we can calculate the cost and reduce our contract to a simple if/then relationship. For example, the idea that if we follow the ten commandments, then God will be pleased is seductive in its simplicity. It doesn’t take long, however, to realize that we are not capable of following all of the commandments all of the time. Abraham likely would have preferred to be told, “If you leave your home and follow me, then, at a specified time or date, you will have the first of many sons. The end result will be that your descendants will be my chosen people forever.” While he did get most of that promise, it happened on God’s time.
Living with that uncertainty is what made God’s covenant with Abraham work. While Abraham and Sarah doubted their ability to conceive once they reached their nineties, they remained faithful. This faith was not broken when Abraham questioned God because when God’s response was, “wait and see,” Abraham could live with that. Paul tells us that this, not adherence to the law, added up to righteousness.
The gospel reading draws us right back into uncertainty. Peter can’t reconcile his idea of what it means to be Messiah with Jesus’ statement that he must suffer, die, and rise again. He seems to want Jesus to see that there must be a way that is easier on and for all of them. Jesus then attempts to explain to the disciples and all who are gathered the difference between setting one’s mind on the divine and setting it on the human. Humans want to be safe and comfortable. Of course they want to survive, but they want to do so in style. As Jesus says, we want the world. We would also like to know what the price of such a life might be. What do we need to give or do in order to please God and keep the blessings coming? Jesus points out that there is nothing that we can do or offer that will be enough to pay God back for the gift that is our very lives. The result is that the path to worldly satisfaction is not the path to righteousness. We need to bear the cross of our mortality and strive for the things that do not perish. AMEN
Lent One (with a dash of Ash Wednesday)
Mark 1:9-15
The Lord works in mysterious ways. Because of Wednesday’s weather, Baxter will celebrate a baptism and communion will include the imposition of ashes on the first Sunday of Lent. The lectionary texts make it clear that this is not a coincidence, but a message from God. Before you dismiss the idea of a message from God as an overstatement, I ask that you walk through a few of the threads that God has woven together this morning.
Let’s begin with the words that I will say as I pour the water into the font: “Through the waters of the flood you delivered Noah and his family, and through the sea you led your people Israel from slavery into freedom. In the river Jordan your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the Holy Spirit. By the baptism of Jesus’ death and resurrection you set us free from the power of sin and death and raise us up to live in you.” These words neatly wrap all of today’s readings into a tidy bundle. They also encapsulate the Lenten journey from Ash Wednesday to Easter.
The words that accompany the imposition of ashes, remember that you are dust and to dust you will return, remind us of our mortality and how God chose to become mortal through Jesus. The reading from Mark shows Jesus being reminded of his own mortality as he progresses quickly from baptism to being anointed the Son of God to the wilderness, where he is tempted by Satan. Jesus renounces his privilege almost as soon as he receives it, but he is not alone. He is with the wild beasts, and the angels wait on him.
Lest we have questions about the wild beasts, our first lesson tells us that God’s covenant is not only with Noah, but “every living creature of all flesh,” so there is no reason to impart evil intent on the wild beasts.
In the words of institution, we hear the new covenant in Jesus’ blood, shed for all people for the forgiveness of sin -- the thread that gives the fabric of faith the strength needed to respond to the call of Jesus: “The Kingdom of God has come near, repent and believe in the good news.” The message of Lent is that God is with us, that God has always been with us. The dust from which we come and to which we will return is the stuff from which creation came. It was present even before the spirit hovered over the waters and God spoke everything into existence. It will be present at the time of judgment and for all eternity. This means that we are never alone -- not at our birth or at our death or at any time in between. Lent reminds us of the need to repent and believe in that time between, a time that we spend largely in the wilderness. God’s covenant is not a promise of peace and happiness in this life; it is the promise that we are never alone. When we believe the good news of the gospel, it causes us to repent -- to turn toward God and away from what is not God. The more that we look for and listen to God, the more that we will see and hear. AMEN
Mark 1:9-15
The Lord works in mysterious ways. Because of Wednesday’s weather, Baxter will celebrate a baptism and communion will include the imposition of ashes on the first Sunday of Lent. The lectionary texts make it clear that this is not a coincidence, but a message from God. Before you dismiss the idea of a message from God as an overstatement, I ask that you walk through a few of the threads that God has woven together this morning.
Let’s begin with the words that I will say as I pour the water into the font: “Through the waters of the flood you delivered Noah and his family, and through the sea you led your people Israel from slavery into freedom. In the river Jordan your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the Holy Spirit. By the baptism of Jesus’ death and resurrection you set us free from the power of sin and death and raise us up to live in you.” These words neatly wrap all of today’s readings into a tidy bundle. They also encapsulate the Lenten journey from Ash Wednesday to Easter.
The words that accompany the imposition of ashes, remember that you are dust and to dust you will return, remind us of our mortality and how God chose to become mortal through Jesus. The reading from Mark shows Jesus being reminded of his own mortality as he progresses quickly from baptism to being anointed the Son of God to the wilderness, where he is tempted by Satan. Jesus renounces his privilege almost as soon as he receives it, but he is not alone. He is with the wild beasts, and the angels wait on him.
Lest we have questions about the wild beasts, our first lesson tells us that God’s covenant is not only with Noah, but “every living creature of all flesh,” so there is no reason to impart evil intent on the wild beasts.
In the words of institution, we hear the new covenant in Jesus’ blood, shed for all people for the forgiveness of sin -- the thread that gives the fabric of faith the strength needed to respond to the call of Jesus: “The Kingdom of God has come near, repent and believe in the good news.” The message of Lent is that God is with us, that God has always been with us. The dust from which we come and to which we will return is the stuff from which creation came. It was present even before the spirit hovered over the waters and God spoke everything into existence. It will be present at the time of judgment and for all eternity. This means that we are never alone -- not at our birth or at our death or at any time in between. Lent reminds us of the need to repent and believe in that time between, a time that we spend largely in the wilderness. God’s covenant is not a promise of peace and happiness in this life; it is the promise that we are never alone. When we believe the good news of the gospel, it causes us to repent -- to turn toward God and away from what is not God. The more that we look for and listen to God, the more that we will see and hear. AMEN
Transfiguration Sunday: February 11
Mark 9:2-9
Six days later than what? In our leap from Mark 1 to Mark 9, the nearest event to today’s reading is Jesus telling the disciples for the first of three times that he will suffer, die, and be resurrected. This is the moment in Mark where Jesus turns his teaching toward Jerusalem and his death. As we prepare ourselves for Ash Wednesday, Lent and Easter, we witness the transfiguration alongside three of the disciples. Jesus’ upcoming death and resurrection come as no surprise to us. For most of us, the roles of Elijah and Moses are unclear. At best, we might remember that Elijah was a prophet and Moses a lawgiver and that both died under mysterious circumstances. Even the words of God, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” seem straightforward to us. Everyone knows that Jesus was the Son of God and that we should listen to him. Why, then, do we even need Lent?
Perhaps we should focus on what Jesus says immediately preceding the Transfiguration: “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?” In a few days, many of us will be reminded that we come from dust and that to dust we are destined to return. While our lives have value, we are only a temporary configuration of the stuff of creation. As long as our focus is on ourselves, we are spinning our wheels. None of us wants to suffer and die, but we follow a God who became human and did exactly that.
The 40 days of Lent are meant to parallel Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness following his baptism. After being assured “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”, Jesus goes to the wilderness and renounces any privilege that being the Son of God might accord him on earth. As we consider whether or not to give up anything for Lent, we must remember the depth of Jesus’ sacrifice. Any fasting or abstinence on our part should serve as a reminder that we are called to use our short lives to figure out how to lose our lives for the sake of the good news.
During this Lenten season, we are going to hear the story of God’s covenant relationship with us. We are familiar with what God has promised us, but what do we know about our end of the deal?
Mark 9:2-9
Six days later than what? In our leap from Mark 1 to Mark 9, the nearest event to today’s reading is Jesus telling the disciples for the first of three times that he will suffer, die, and be resurrected. This is the moment in Mark where Jesus turns his teaching toward Jerusalem and his death. As we prepare ourselves for Ash Wednesday, Lent and Easter, we witness the transfiguration alongside three of the disciples. Jesus’ upcoming death and resurrection come as no surprise to us. For most of us, the roles of Elijah and Moses are unclear. At best, we might remember that Elijah was a prophet and Moses a lawgiver and that both died under mysterious circumstances. Even the words of God, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” seem straightforward to us. Everyone knows that Jesus was the Son of God and that we should listen to him. Why, then, do we even need Lent?
Perhaps we should focus on what Jesus says immediately preceding the Transfiguration: “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?” In a few days, many of us will be reminded that we come from dust and that to dust we are destined to return. While our lives have value, we are only a temporary configuration of the stuff of creation. As long as our focus is on ourselves, we are spinning our wheels. None of us wants to suffer and die, but we follow a God who became human and did exactly that.
The 40 days of Lent are meant to parallel Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness following his baptism. After being assured “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”, Jesus goes to the wilderness and renounces any privilege that being the Son of God might accord him on earth. As we consider whether or not to give up anything for Lent, we must remember the depth of Jesus’ sacrifice. Any fasting or abstinence on our part should serve as a reminder that we are called to use our short lives to figure out how to lose our lives for the sake of the good news.
During this Lenten season, we are going to hear the story of God’s covenant relationship with us. We are familiar with what God has promised us, but what do we know about our end of the deal?
Epiphany 5: February 4
Mark 1:29-39
Although we are still in the first chapter of Mark, the ministry of John the Baptist has begun and ended, Jesus has been baptized, the Spirit has declared him the Son of God, he has been tempted by Satan in the wilderness, he has called his first four disciples and his ministry of teaching and healing is well underway. It can be difficult to keep track of the passage of time in Mark since the story moves so rapidly. Today’s reading takes place on the evening of the Sabbath that was the setting of last week’s gospel, so Jesus has already taught at the synagogue and cast out a demon as our story begins. It can be tempting to view the beginning of the reading with a rather cynical eye: After church, Jesus and the disciples went to Simon’s house for dinner. Simon’s mother-in-law was sick, so Jesus healed her and she made them something to eat. Later, everyone else in town heard what was going on, so they all showed up so that their various aches and pains would also be cured.
It is easy for us to dismiss demon possession as ancient superstition and to diminish Jesus’ healings as simply returning people to good health. The healing of Simon’s mother-in-law points us in the right direction. When she begins to serve Jesus and the disciples, she does so in the same manner that the angels served Jesus during his time in the wilderness. She doesn’t just feel better, she has been resurrected, reborn.
The same is true of all of the people Jesus heals, as well as those who come to belief because of his teaching. Although Jesus forbids the demons to speak of him, the healed and the witnesses have become a part of the Living Word. AMEN
Mark 1:29-39
Although we are still in the first chapter of Mark, the ministry of John the Baptist has begun and ended, Jesus has been baptized, the Spirit has declared him the Son of God, he has been tempted by Satan in the wilderness, he has called his first four disciples and his ministry of teaching and healing is well underway. It can be difficult to keep track of the passage of time in Mark since the story moves so rapidly. Today’s reading takes place on the evening of the Sabbath that was the setting of last week’s gospel, so Jesus has already taught at the synagogue and cast out a demon as our story begins. It can be tempting to view the beginning of the reading with a rather cynical eye: After church, Jesus and the disciples went to Simon’s house for dinner. Simon’s mother-in-law was sick, so Jesus healed her and she made them something to eat. Later, everyone else in town heard what was going on, so they all showed up so that their various aches and pains would also be cured.
It is easy for us to dismiss demon possession as ancient superstition and to diminish Jesus’ healings as simply returning people to good health. The healing of Simon’s mother-in-law points us in the right direction. When she begins to serve Jesus and the disciples, she does so in the same manner that the angels served Jesus during his time in the wilderness. She doesn’t just feel better, she has been resurrected, reborn.
The same is true of all of the people Jesus heals, as well as those who come to belief because of his teaching. Although Jesus forbids the demons to speak of him, the healed and the witnesses have become a part of the Living Word. AMEN
Epiphany 4: January 28
Mark 1:21-28
Our first two readings set us up to consider God’s word. In Deuteronomy, we hear what Moses says, or what God says through Moses. Because he is a prophet, Moses’ word is law. We know, however, that the people were sporadic in their willingness and ability to follow the law. In the epistle, Paul is discussing different interpretations of dietary laws. Most of the meat available in Corinth has been sacrificed to various idols. Paul’s opinion is that, while eating or not eating the meat doesn’t impact his relationship with God, it does affect his ability to make God known to the people around him. We can look back to either of these texts to bolster our own ideas of what is and is not right or appropriate for believers Moses said, Paul said, the Bible says… And then there’s Jesus, the Word made Flesh.
In the twenty verses that precede our reading from Mark, the ministry of John the Baptist has begun and ended, Jesus has been baptized, the Spirit has declared him the Son of God, he has been tempted by Satan in the wilderness, and he has called his first four disciples. Mark is clearly in a hurry to tell the story of Jesus’ ministry, which he introduces: Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” The good news, the gospel, the Word of God has been fulfilled in the person of Jesus. Everything that God spoke through Moses and the prophets is embodied in Jesus. All of the epistles are attempts to explain Jesus.
Jesus goes to a synagogue, a place of words, and begins to teach. What happened at synagogues was similar to what happens at “Bible based” churches today in that there was no liturgy or music. Scrolls containing the scriptures were read and explained. While the scrolls were considered sacred, the teaching was done by a variety of traveling teachers. It seems that there was enough buzz about Jesus that he was considered someone who would have something to say at the synagogue. From the start, it was clear that Jesus was different from any teacher that had come before him. Instead of saying, “Moses said'' or quoting a noted Rabbi, Jesus taught with an authority that didn’t involve a third party. One might say that Jesus didn’t just know what he was talking about, he was what he was talking about.
The reaction of the unclean spirit reinforces this. Even if we acknowledge that Jesus was the word and that Jesus lived the word, we, like the unclean spirit, might ask Jesus, “What have you to do with us? Have you come to destroy us?” We have failed repeatedly to follow the laws that you gave Moses, we have not heeded the warnings of the prophets, and we have not benefited much from the teachings of the Apostles. If you are the model of how to live, how can we possibly measure up? Jesus doesn’t bother to argue with the spirit, simply saying, “Be quiet and come out of him!” It is interesting that the spirit’s exit is noisy. Perhaps that is one of the ways that the law can serve as a stumbling block as Paul warned. The old expressions: “What possessed you to do that?” or “What got into you?” come to mind. How loud are the voices in our minds that remind us of the many ways in which we have come up short, of our failings compared to the voice of Jesus telling us that he has brought the kingdom near and fulfilled the law? Somehow we hear criticism, whether it is whispered or shouted, internal or external, far more clearly that we hear Jesus’ message of Grace.
The Bible “says” a lot of things, but Jesus’ message was quite simple: repent and believe. Love one another as I have loved you. I am the light of the world -- the way, the truth, and the life. AMEN
Mark 1:21-28
Our first two readings set us up to consider God’s word. In Deuteronomy, we hear what Moses says, or what God says through Moses. Because he is a prophet, Moses’ word is law. We know, however, that the people were sporadic in their willingness and ability to follow the law. In the epistle, Paul is discussing different interpretations of dietary laws. Most of the meat available in Corinth has been sacrificed to various idols. Paul’s opinion is that, while eating or not eating the meat doesn’t impact his relationship with God, it does affect his ability to make God known to the people around him. We can look back to either of these texts to bolster our own ideas of what is and is not right or appropriate for believers Moses said, Paul said, the Bible says… And then there’s Jesus, the Word made Flesh.
In the twenty verses that precede our reading from Mark, the ministry of John the Baptist has begun and ended, Jesus has been baptized, the Spirit has declared him the Son of God, he has been tempted by Satan in the wilderness, and he has called his first four disciples. Mark is clearly in a hurry to tell the story of Jesus’ ministry, which he introduces: Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” The good news, the gospel, the Word of God has been fulfilled in the person of Jesus. Everything that God spoke through Moses and the prophets is embodied in Jesus. All of the epistles are attempts to explain Jesus.
Jesus goes to a synagogue, a place of words, and begins to teach. What happened at synagogues was similar to what happens at “Bible based” churches today in that there was no liturgy or music. Scrolls containing the scriptures were read and explained. While the scrolls were considered sacred, the teaching was done by a variety of traveling teachers. It seems that there was enough buzz about Jesus that he was considered someone who would have something to say at the synagogue. From the start, it was clear that Jesus was different from any teacher that had come before him. Instead of saying, “Moses said'' or quoting a noted Rabbi, Jesus taught with an authority that didn’t involve a third party. One might say that Jesus didn’t just know what he was talking about, he was what he was talking about.
The reaction of the unclean spirit reinforces this. Even if we acknowledge that Jesus was the word and that Jesus lived the word, we, like the unclean spirit, might ask Jesus, “What have you to do with us? Have you come to destroy us?” We have failed repeatedly to follow the laws that you gave Moses, we have not heeded the warnings of the prophets, and we have not benefited much from the teachings of the Apostles. If you are the model of how to live, how can we possibly measure up? Jesus doesn’t bother to argue with the spirit, simply saying, “Be quiet and come out of him!” It is interesting that the spirit’s exit is noisy. Perhaps that is one of the ways that the law can serve as a stumbling block as Paul warned. The old expressions: “What possessed you to do that?” or “What got into you?” come to mind. How loud are the voices in our minds that remind us of the many ways in which we have come up short, of our failings compared to the voice of Jesus telling us that he has brought the kingdom near and fulfilled the law? Somehow we hear criticism, whether it is whispered or shouted, internal or external, far more clearly that we hear Jesus’ message of Grace.
The Bible “says” a lot of things, but Jesus’ message was quite simple: repent and believe. Love one another as I have loved you. I am the light of the world -- the way, the truth, and the life. AMEN
Christmas Eve, 2023
The story of the birth of Jesus is remarkably spare: “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” We know that Mary and Joseph have traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be registered. Beyond that, there are a lot of blanks left to fill in, many of them having to do with the last bit.
The inn might have been many things, but it is highly unlikely that it is what we envision. Bethlehem was filled with people who were there because of their common ancestry; they were all related somehow. Mary and Joseph would have been looking for a place to lay their heads and especially a place where Mary could give birth. When we think of an innkeeper with no connection to Mary and Joseph pointing at the “no vacancy” sign and sending them to the stable, we leave Mary and Joseph alone (save for the collection of sheep, cows, camels, and an occasional cat, mouse, or drummer boy).
Another bit of information that Matthew contributes to the story is that the magi showed up in Jerusalem seeking “the baby who would be king of the Jews.” It is easy to forget that this happened some time after Jesus had been born and that the news terrified not only Herod, but all of Jerusalem, and that there is no mention of how many wise men there were. Including them in the nativity story adds a bit of menace along with some rather odd baby gifts.
The one blank that we never seem to fill in is, who was with Mary when she gave birth? In a town filled with her husband’s relatives, does it really make sense that she was sent to the stable to fend for herself? I find it hard to imagine that there wasn’t at least one woman who took it upon herself to help a young woman who was about to give birth -- even if they had no family obligation to do so, don’t you? As far as why it wouldn’t be included in the story, well, they were just women doing what women do. How different is the story of the nativity if we add a woman or two or three making Mary as comfortable as possible, talking her through the birth process, and handing her the baby Jesus? To take it a bit further, they would still be there to greet the shepherds and hear the amazing news that the angels had given them. Instead of lying stilly, at least one part of the little town of Bethlehem is buzzing with the excitement of new life and good news. Instead of not making any crying while sleeping on the hay, the little lord Jesus is the center of attention, surrounded by love and adoration, the star still shining brightly and the threat of Herod still far off. Doesn’t that feel right? AMEN
The story of the birth of Jesus is remarkably spare: “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” We know that Mary and Joseph have traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be registered. Beyond that, there are a lot of blanks left to fill in, many of them having to do with the last bit.
The inn might have been many things, but it is highly unlikely that it is what we envision. Bethlehem was filled with people who were there because of their common ancestry; they were all related somehow. Mary and Joseph would have been looking for a place to lay their heads and especially a place where Mary could give birth. When we think of an innkeeper with no connection to Mary and Joseph pointing at the “no vacancy” sign and sending them to the stable, we leave Mary and Joseph alone (save for the collection of sheep, cows, camels, and an occasional cat, mouse, or drummer boy).
Another bit of information that Matthew contributes to the story is that the magi showed up in Jerusalem seeking “the baby who would be king of the Jews.” It is easy to forget that this happened some time after Jesus had been born and that the news terrified not only Herod, but all of Jerusalem, and that there is no mention of how many wise men there were. Including them in the nativity story adds a bit of menace along with some rather odd baby gifts.
The one blank that we never seem to fill in is, who was with Mary when she gave birth? In a town filled with her husband’s relatives, does it really make sense that she was sent to the stable to fend for herself? I find it hard to imagine that there wasn’t at least one woman who took it upon herself to help a young woman who was about to give birth -- even if they had no family obligation to do so, don’t you? As far as why it wouldn’t be included in the story, well, they were just women doing what women do. How different is the story of the nativity if we add a woman or two or three making Mary as comfortable as possible, talking her through the birth process, and handing her the baby Jesus? To take it a bit further, they would still be there to greet the shepherds and hear the amazing news that the angels had given them. Instead of lying stilly, at least one part of the little town of Bethlehem is buzzing with the excitement of new life and good news. Instead of not making any crying while sleeping on the hay, the little lord Jesus is the center of attention, surrounded by love and adoration, the star still shining brightly and the threat of Herod still far off. Doesn’t that feel right? AMEN
Amalgam Sunday(s): December 10,17
Luke 1:26-38, 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16 ,1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
I refer to this as amalgam Sunday because the readings are from the lectionary for Advent three and four, and I will be preaching on them on Advent two and three because of the Sunday School Christmas programs and because we chose to start Advent a week early because there will not be a “regular” church on the fourth Sunday of Advent because it falls on Christmas Eve day. If you needed to read this paragraph multiple times, don’t feel bad; it is confusing, but the message to follow is much simpler.
The three readings are tied together by prophets and prophecies. Paul’s advice, to not take prophecy lightly, but to test everything, seems to resonate with the other two readings. As I explained in my introduction to the readings, David is just finding his way as the King of Israel. He is living in a fine house in a city that he has named for himself. God has shown his favor to David in multiple ways, and David feels like the next logical step is to build God a temple in “his”city. When he asks Nathan, the court prophet and advisor, about it, Nathan basically says that whatever David does is bound to be blessed by God. The problem with this is that Nathan hasn’t bothered to ask God what God wants. Nathan has advised without consulting, and God sets him straight. One message that we can take from this is that just because we can do something to honor God doesn’t always mean that we should do it. We are to listen for the word of God and to test our perceived answers against what is right and what is wrong.
Because he is now king, we might forget that David wasn’t even called in from tending the sheep when Samuel came to choose a king from among the sons of Jesse, his father. Because, as Lutherans, we spend almost no time considering Mary except as the mother of baby Jesus, we might struggle to see beyond her humble beginnings. Both are mistakes because both are examples of what matters to God and what does not. The common characteristics of the two are humility and a willingness to listen. The news that her son will be given the throne of his ancestor, David, is hardly the most surprising thing that she is told. She is still reeling from the appearance of an angel saying, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” Gabriel gives her some concrete evidence of the work of God through Elizabeth’s pregnancy and reminds her that nothing is impossible with God. Instead of dismissing this as a dream, Mary agrees to do what God asks of her, reminding us that even the young and humble can do great things if they are willing to listen to the word of the Lord. AMEN
Luke 1:26-38, 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16 ,1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
I refer to this as amalgam Sunday because the readings are from the lectionary for Advent three and four, and I will be preaching on them on Advent two and three because of the Sunday School Christmas programs and because we chose to start Advent a week early because there will not be a “regular” church on the fourth Sunday of Advent because it falls on Christmas Eve day. If you needed to read this paragraph multiple times, don’t feel bad; it is confusing, but the message to follow is much simpler.
The three readings are tied together by prophets and prophecies. Paul’s advice, to not take prophecy lightly, but to test everything, seems to resonate with the other two readings. As I explained in my introduction to the readings, David is just finding his way as the King of Israel. He is living in a fine house in a city that he has named for himself. God has shown his favor to David in multiple ways, and David feels like the next logical step is to build God a temple in “his”city. When he asks Nathan, the court prophet and advisor, about it, Nathan basically says that whatever David does is bound to be blessed by God. The problem with this is that Nathan hasn’t bothered to ask God what God wants. Nathan has advised without consulting, and God sets him straight. One message that we can take from this is that just because we can do something to honor God doesn’t always mean that we should do it. We are to listen for the word of God and to test our perceived answers against what is right and what is wrong.
Because he is now king, we might forget that David wasn’t even called in from tending the sheep when Samuel came to choose a king from among the sons of Jesse, his father. Because, as Lutherans, we spend almost no time considering Mary except as the mother of baby Jesus, we might struggle to see beyond her humble beginnings. Both are mistakes because both are examples of what matters to God and what does not. The common characteristics of the two are humility and a willingness to listen. The news that her son will be given the throne of his ancestor, David, is hardly the most surprising thing that she is told. She is still reeling from the appearance of an angel saying, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” Gabriel gives her some concrete evidence of the work of God through Elizabeth’s pregnancy and reminds her that nothing is impossible with God. Instead of dismissing this as a dream, Mary agrees to do what God asks of her, reminding us that even the young and humble can do great things if they are willing to listen to the word of the Lord. AMEN
Advent 2: December 3 Mark 1:1-8, Isaiah 40:1-11
Have you ever wondered why Mark’s gospel doesn’t include a single word about the birth of Jesus? The reason might be that birth isn’t really the beginning of anyone’s story. We are all born into families with histories with parents who have different hopes and dreams for us. We are part of cultures that have developed over time with a mix of ancient traditions and innovations. Mark is making it clear that Jesus is the culmination of something that God has been working on since before the beginning. John the Baptist is not the first new prophet in 400 years. He is the return of the prophetic voice -- perhaps even the return of Elijah himself. The fact that generations went by without the voice of God being heard does not mean that God was silent. In the same way, the death of Jesus will not be the end of his story because he will baptize not with water but with the Holy Spirit.
What a difference it makes when we remember that the world did not begin with our births and that it will not end with our deaths. Instead, we are living within an almost infinitesimally small portion of an ongoing story that was set in motion through the voice of God at creation. In the first lesson, Isaiah reminds the people that even though they will dry up and wither like grass, they have a part to play in the story. Their role is to prepare the way, but they will not do it alone. God will flatten the mountains so that they can build the roads. Before those mountains are flattened, the people need to climb them and shout at the top of their voices that God is coming to care for them as a shepherd cares for his sheep.
Our job is essentially the same as theirs. We are to do what we can to ensure that the word of God is spread as widely as possible. Part of that is done through our actions, from caring for our neighbors to supporting missionaries. The other part is to offer our praises to God so that others know God’s goodness. Oh, and don’t forget: this might not feel urgent, but we have no way of knowing when the Lord will return. AMEN
Have you ever wondered why Mark’s gospel doesn’t include a single word about the birth of Jesus? The reason might be that birth isn’t really the beginning of anyone’s story. We are all born into families with histories with parents who have different hopes and dreams for us. We are part of cultures that have developed over time with a mix of ancient traditions and innovations. Mark is making it clear that Jesus is the culmination of something that God has been working on since before the beginning. John the Baptist is not the first new prophet in 400 years. He is the return of the prophetic voice -- perhaps even the return of Elijah himself. The fact that generations went by without the voice of God being heard does not mean that God was silent. In the same way, the death of Jesus will not be the end of his story because he will baptize not with water but with the Holy Spirit.
What a difference it makes when we remember that the world did not begin with our births and that it will not end with our deaths. Instead, we are living within an almost infinitesimally small portion of an ongoing story that was set in motion through the voice of God at creation. In the first lesson, Isaiah reminds the people that even though they will dry up and wither like grass, they have a part to play in the story. Their role is to prepare the way, but they will not do it alone. God will flatten the mountains so that they can build the roads. Before those mountains are flattened, the people need to climb them and shout at the top of their voices that God is coming to care for them as a shepherd cares for his sheep.
Our job is essentially the same as theirs. We are to do what we can to ensure that the word of God is spread as widely as possible. Part of that is done through our actions, from caring for our neighbors to supporting missionaries. The other part is to offer our praises to God so that others know God’s goodness. Oh, and don’t forget: this might not feel urgent, but we have no way of knowing when the Lord will return. AMEN
Christ the King: November 19, 2023
Matthew 25:31-46
At the heart of this parable is judgment. There is no room here for a universalist view that all have been saved through Jesus’ sacrifice. Instead of debating whether or not there will be judgment, this parable shows us how it will take place. It turns out that everyone will be surprised. The religious are not as good as they assumed and the irreligious are not as bad as they had been told. The self-consciously good are pretty bad and the careless ones are better than they pretended (Kennedy). The reason for their surprise is revealed when Jesus says, “just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” It is easy to forget that there is divinity in all of us. This parable calls us to treat every person as if they were Christ.
This might seem to be against our better judgment. Logic might tell us that as we grow in our understanding of God and in faith, the distance between ourselves and those who do not demonstrate faith will increase. This morning, someone told me that it was important that the youth of the church get together with other Christian youth so that when they walk down the halls at school they can know who is a Christian and who isn’t. I’m sure that her intentions are good, but this is clearly counter to the message of the parable. We don’t serve others because they are Christians, we serve them because they are Christ’s. The goal of Christianity isn’t to become holy in the sense that we become spotless and try to remain so; the more Christian we become, the more we are drawn to the “unwashed masses.”
The best way to prepare for the final judgment is to practice good judgment every day. As much as we might pray for a mountaintop experience that shows us the way, it is the hundreds of choices that we make every day that shape our minds and character, which is what ultimately determines our future. In a sermon published in 1960, Gerald Kennedy said it better than I ever could:
Every day is judgment day, for every life is shaped by the small events and the unnoticed responses. We are in deep need of a sensitivity that will not fail to register a warning when human need is passed by, and will keep us alert to the opportunity of worshiping God through service. It is not the sermon on Sunday morning that represents my best preaching, but a response to someone’s cry in the marketplace. It is not an eloquent testimony of my creed that is my best contribution, so much as an assurance of concern for the discouraged and hopeless.
We become Christians only when our daily lives are changed. The sure sign of Christ’s presence is the redemption of the small and common events which crowd in upon us every day. For life that sees a judgment in every human encounter is on its way toward achieving a new quality of greatness. AMEN
Matthew 25:31-46
At the heart of this parable is judgment. There is no room here for a universalist view that all have been saved through Jesus’ sacrifice. Instead of debating whether or not there will be judgment, this parable shows us how it will take place. It turns out that everyone will be surprised. The religious are not as good as they assumed and the irreligious are not as bad as they had been told. The self-consciously good are pretty bad and the careless ones are better than they pretended (Kennedy). The reason for their surprise is revealed when Jesus says, “just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” It is easy to forget that there is divinity in all of us. This parable calls us to treat every person as if they were Christ.
This might seem to be against our better judgment. Logic might tell us that as we grow in our understanding of God and in faith, the distance between ourselves and those who do not demonstrate faith will increase. This morning, someone told me that it was important that the youth of the church get together with other Christian youth so that when they walk down the halls at school they can know who is a Christian and who isn’t. I’m sure that her intentions are good, but this is clearly counter to the message of the parable. We don’t serve others because they are Christians, we serve them because they are Christ’s. The goal of Christianity isn’t to become holy in the sense that we become spotless and try to remain so; the more Christian we become, the more we are drawn to the “unwashed masses.”
The best way to prepare for the final judgment is to practice good judgment every day. As much as we might pray for a mountaintop experience that shows us the way, it is the hundreds of choices that we make every day that shape our minds and character, which is what ultimately determines our future. In a sermon published in 1960, Gerald Kennedy said it better than I ever could:
Every day is judgment day, for every life is shaped by the small events and the unnoticed responses. We are in deep need of a sensitivity that will not fail to register a warning when human need is passed by, and will keep us alert to the opportunity of worshiping God through service. It is not the sermon on Sunday morning that represents my best preaching, but a response to someone’s cry in the marketplace. It is not an eloquent testimony of my creed that is my best contribution, so much as an assurance of concern for the discouraged and hopeless.
We become Christians only when our daily lives are changed. The sure sign of Christ’s presence is the redemption of the small and common events which crowd in upon us every day. For life that sees a judgment in every human encounter is on its way toward achieving a new quality of greatness. AMEN
Pentecost 24: November 12
Amos 5:18-24, Matthew 25:1-13
Today’s gospel makes the most sense to me when it is read alongside the first lesson from Amos. Let’s start by asking ourselves a question: on a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the brightest, how bright is your light this morning? Remember that we are to let our lights shine so that others might come to God. How are we doing? As a group, are we a beacon, a single, flickering match, or something in between? Let’s bring the focus in a little tighter. Would you consider our worship this morning to be representative of a group of people celebrating the good news that they have been invited to the wedding feast, that their sins are forgiven, that they are loved unconditionally by God, that they have been saved?
If Amos dropped by, would he even care? I mean, it would be great if we sang louder, if we were more enthusiastic when we shared the peace, if at least a couple of you jumped up on your pew and shouted “AMEN” during the sermon every once in a while, but that isn’t what it is all about. In fact, Amos would likely ask us what we were so excited about and remind us that the day of the Lord is not about rainbows and unicorns; it will be a time of cleansing and fear and suffering, as we read in Revelation last week. Even the saved will be hiding until the moment that we pray for every week, the moment when God’s kingdom comes on Earth as it is in Heaven. In the meantime, watch out for bears and snakes.
In the meantime, we can begin the cleansing in a gentler manner as “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” Our worship is for naught if we hate our neighbor, if we don’t care about the hungry, the stranger, the sick, and the imprisoned. AMEN
Amos 5:18-24, Matthew 25:1-13
Today’s gospel makes the most sense to me when it is read alongside the first lesson from Amos. Let’s start by asking ourselves a question: on a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the brightest, how bright is your light this morning? Remember that we are to let our lights shine so that others might come to God. How are we doing? As a group, are we a beacon, a single, flickering match, or something in between? Let’s bring the focus in a little tighter. Would you consider our worship this morning to be representative of a group of people celebrating the good news that they have been invited to the wedding feast, that their sins are forgiven, that they are loved unconditionally by God, that they have been saved?
If Amos dropped by, would he even care? I mean, it would be great if we sang louder, if we were more enthusiastic when we shared the peace, if at least a couple of you jumped up on your pew and shouted “AMEN” during the sermon every once in a while, but that isn’t what it is all about. In fact, Amos would likely ask us what we were so excited about and remind us that the day of the Lord is not about rainbows and unicorns; it will be a time of cleansing and fear and suffering, as we read in Revelation last week. Even the saved will be hiding until the moment that we pray for every week, the moment when God’s kingdom comes on Earth as it is in Heaven. In the meantime, watch out for bears and snakes.
In the meantime, we can begin the cleansing in a gentler manner as “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” Our worship is for naught if we hate our neighbor, if we don’t care about the hungry, the stranger, the sick, and the imprisoned. AMEN
All Saints: November 5, 2023
Revelation 7:9-17
The reading from Revelation is near the culmination of a section titled, “The Scroll and the Lamb.” As John sees the scroll, an angel asks, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” John begins to weep because no one on heaven or on earth or under the earth is able to open the scroll. He is assured that there is one who is worthy, “ the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David.” John then sees a lamb, standing as though it had been slain. The lamb takes the scroll and begins breaking the seven seals. As each of the first four seals is broken, one of the living creatures shouts, “Come!” and a horse and rider responds to the summons. THese horses and their riders inflict death through sword, famine, pestilence, and wild beasts. When the fifth seal is opened, the souls of the martyrs cry out for God’s vengeance. They are each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the remaining martyrs have been killed. The sixth seal shows a preview of the coming destruction of the first heaven and earth. There is an earthquake, the sun turns black, the moon turns to blood, the stars fall from the sky, and the sky is rolled up like a scroll. “The kings of the earth and the great ones and the generals and the rich and the powerful and everyone slave and free hides in the caves and among the rocks, calling upon the mountains and rocks to fall on them and hide them from the wrath of the lamb.” This section ends, “the great day of their wrath has come; who can stand?”
Today’s reading is an interlude in the destruction and an answer to the question, “Who can stand?” First, four angels stand at the four corners of the earth, holding back the four winds until those who have been sealed with the “seal of the living God.” Then we have the great multitude, hearkening back to God’s promise to Abraham that his descendants would be like the grains of sand on a beach or the stars in the sky. This multitude includes the martyrs in their white robes as well as people from every nation on earth. Who can stand the judgment of the lamb? This group has emerged from the apocalyptic final judgment purified and victorious. The Lamb has not just rescued them from the consequences of sin in their past life; they have been enabled to live a new life in the time to come. This hasn’t been a passive process. Those who stand have washed their own robes in the blood of the Lamb. They have withstood suffering and cried out in despair before reaching this point, and they are not passive now.
Their response is unrestrained worship. When I was young, I remember hearing a comedian say that if Heaven was nothing but worshiping and learning about God, he would just as soon go to Hell. That bothered me then, and it bothers me now, but it has a kernel of truth in it. When we imagine the afterlife, how much of it has anything to do with God? Will God be in charge of the screening process? Is Jesus simply the host who has gone before us to prepare our rooms? Will we be given a heavenly hug and sent on to a glorious family reunion? What does it say about our faith that we can even imagine leaving the presence of God for any reason?
This leaks into our daily lives as well. During meditation on Wednesday, the leader asked us if we could accept the fact that God has made us perfect. My therapist once asked me to remember the first time that I understood that God loves me completely, just as I am. Neither one of these questions brought comforting answers to mind. I see myself as the person eating spaghetti and drinking grape Kool-aid in my white robe. In fact, the white enhances my dirtiness, while I would prefer to hide it. If I am going to be one of those who will stand, this needs to change. AMEN
Revelation 7:9-17
The reading from Revelation is near the culmination of a section titled, “The Scroll and the Lamb.” As John sees the scroll, an angel asks, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” John begins to weep because no one on heaven or on earth or under the earth is able to open the scroll. He is assured that there is one who is worthy, “ the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David.” John then sees a lamb, standing as though it had been slain. The lamb takes the scroll and begins breaking the seven seals. As each of the first four seals is broken, one of the living creatures shouts, “Come!” and a horse and rider responds to the summons. THese horses and their riders inflict death through sword, famine, pestilence, and wild beasts. When the fifth seal is opened, the souls of the martyrs cry out for God’s vengeance. They are each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the remaining martyrs have been killed. The sixth seal shows a preview of the coming destruction of the first heaven and earth. There is an earthquake, the sun turns black, the moon turns to blood, the stars fall from the sky, and the sky is rolled up like a scroll. “The kings of the earth and the great ones and the generals and the rich and the powerful and everyone slave and free hides in the caves and among the rocks, calling upon the mountains and rocks to fall on them and hide them from the wrath of the lamb.” This section ends, “the great day of their wrath has come; who can stand?”
Today’s reading is an interlude in the destruction and an answer to the question, “Who can stand?” First, four angels stand at the four corners of the earth, holding back the four winds until those who have been sealed with the “seal of the living God.” Then we have the great multitude, hearkening back to God’s promise to Abraham that his descendants would be like the grains of sand on a beach or the stars in the sky. This multitude includes the martyrs in their white robes as well as people from every nation on earth. Who can stand the judgment of the lamb? This group has emerged from the apocalyptic final judgment purified and victorious. The Lamb has not just rescued them from the consequences of sin in their past life; they have been enabled to live a new life in the time to come. This hasn’t been a passive process. Those who stand have washed their own robes in the blood of the Lamb. They have withstood suffering and cried out in despair before reaching this point, and they are not passive now.
Their response is unrestrained worship. When I was young, I remember hearing a comedian say that if Heaven was nothing but worshiping and learning about God, he would just as soon go to Hell. That bothered me then, and it bothers me now, but it has a kernel of truth in it. When we imagine the afterlife, how much of it has anything to do with God? Will God be in charge of the screening process? Is Jesus simply the host who has gone before us to prepare our rooms? Will we be given a heavenly hug and sent on to a glorious family reunion? What does it say about our faith that we can even imagine leaving the presence of God for any reason?
This leaks into our daily lives as well. During meditation on Wednesday, the leader asked us if we could accept the fact that God has made us perfect. My therapist once asked me to remember the first time that I understood that God loves me completely, just as I am. Neither one of these questions brought comforting answers to mind. I see myself as the person eating spaghetti and drinking grape Kool-aid in my white robe. In fact, the white enhances my dirtiness, while I would prefer to hide it. If I am going to be one of those who will stand, this needs to change. AMEN
Reformation Sunday: October 29
Jeremiah 31:31-34, Romans 3:19-28,
As a group, today’s readings lay out the new covenant. The reason that a new covenant is needed is that humanity has consistently proved unable to hold up their end of the Mosaic covenant, handed down with the ten commandments. So the new covenant replaces teaching one another with knowing; knowing comes with the realization that we are, as the commendation used at funerals states, sheep of (God’s) own fold, lambs of (his) own flock, and sinners of (his) own redeeming.
In the reading from Romans, Paul explains that the law (we are again back at the ten commandments) has always convicted us and forced us to acknowledge that we are sinners. This understanding is the great equalizer; once we understand our need for it, God’s grace, sacrifice, and atonement through Christ can become effective through faith.
Finally, the Gospel reading includes instruction on the new covenant from Jesus. This instruction reaches back toward Jeremiah’s prophecy; being taught about “the word” (which is what Jesus was when he came in the flesh) is just the beginning. Jesus teaches that discipleship is not an understanding, but a continuing. And what is the truth of which Jesus speaks? It is the understanding that extends all the way back to God’s covenant with Noah. Namely, that God promised never to destroy his creation again, even though humanity was fundamentally sinful. Knowing the truth -- that we are all completely unworthy, is what sets us free. This isn’t freedom as we normally think of it -- freedom from consequences and responsibilities -- but freedom from the need to compete, freedom from the need to judge, freedom from the burden of proving ourselves. AMEN
Jeremiah 31:31-34, Romans 3:19-28,
As a group, today’s readings lay out the new covenant. The reason that a new covenant is needed is that humanity has consistently proved unable to hold up their end of the Mosaic covenant, handed down with the ten commandments. So the new covenant replaces teaching one another with knowing; knowing comes with the realization that we are, as the commendation used at funerals states, sheep of (God’s) own fold, lambs of (his) own flock, and sinners of (his) own redeeming.
In the reading from Romans, Paul explains that the law (we are again back at the ten commandments) has always convicted us and forced us to acknowledge that we are sinners. This understanding is the great equalizer; once we understand our need for it, God’s grace, sacrifice, and atonement through Christ can become effective through faith.
Finally, the Gospel reading includes instruction on the new covenant from Jesus. This instruction reaches back toward Jeremiah’s prophecy; being taught about “the word” (which is what Jesus was when he came in the flesh) is just the beginning. Jesus teaches that discipleship is not an understanding, but a continuing. And what is the truth of which Jesus speaks? It is the understanding that extends all the way back to God’s covenant with Noah. Namely, that God promised never to destroy his creation again, even though humanity was fundamentally sinful. Knowing the truth -- that we are all completely unworthy, is what sets us free. This isn’t freedom as we normally think of it -- freedom from consequences and responsibilities -- but freedom from the need to compete, freedom from the need to judge, freedom from the burden of proving ourselves. AMEN
Pentecost 21: October 22, 2023
Matthew 22:15-22
How do we decide what is Caesar’s and what is God’s? For Jesus, choosing one or the other was a no-win situation. It can be argued that the same is true for us. The first two readings reminded us that God is the creator and ruler of all, and that everything belongs to God, and there are reminders in Matthew’s Gospel that we cannot serve both God and money. Jesus also goes into detail in Matthew about how difficult it will be for a rich person to get into heaven. This might lead us to believe that the path of righteousness leads us to the wilderness and solitude. We have simply to look at the life of Jesus to see the necessity of wilderness time.
Jesus also showed us the need to return to the world of worldliness. This is the discovery that Martin Luther also made -- the reason that he left his life as a monk and returned to the world. His intent was not to create an alternative to the Catholic church, but to share the message that God’s grace makes us all fit to live in the kingdom, to attend the wedding feast.
While Caesar played at being God, he was also a part of God’s realm. Christ does not call us to blindly support or submit to earthly powers. We are also not given the vision with which to discern God’s hand at work in the world. Of course, we are supposed to do our best to follow those powers which are right and to resist those that are wrong, but we need to trust God to help guide us. We are called to live in a way that provides an example for others so that they will be led to Godly lives. While that may involve a life of quiet contemplation for some, others are called to be more directly involved in fighting injustice. Isaiah has shown us how God used Cyrus, a powerful unbeliever. We must believe that he also has plans for seemingly powerless believers like us. AMEN
Matthew 22:15-22
How do we decide what is Caesar’s and what is God’s? For Jesus, choosing one or the other was a no-win situation. It can be argued that the same is true for us. The first two readings reminded us that God is the creator and ruler of all, and that everything belongs to God, and there are reminders in Matthew’s Gospel that we cannot serve both God and money. Jesus also goes into detail in Matthew about how difficult it will be for a rich person to get into heaven. This might lead us to believe that the path of righteousness leads us to the wilderness and solitude. We have simply to look at the life of Jesus to see the necessity of wilderness time.
Jesus also showed us the need to return to the world of worldliness. This is the discovery that Martin Luther also made -- the reason that he left his life as a monk and returned to the world. His intent was not to create an alternative to the Catholic church, but to share the message that God’s grace makes us all fit to live in the kingdom, to attend the wedding feast.
While Caesar played at being God, he was also a part of God’s realm. Christ does not call us to blindly support or submit to earthly powers. We are also not given the vision with which to discern God’s hand at work in the world. Of course, we are supposed to do our best to follow those powers which are right and to resist those that are wrong, but we need to trust God to help guide us. We are called to live in a way that provides an example for others so that they will be led to Godly lives. While that may involve a life of quiet contemplation for some, others are called to be more directly involved in fighting injustice. Isaiah has shown us how God used Cyrus, a powerful unbeliever. We must believe that he also has plans for seemingly powerless believers like us. AMEN
Pentecost 20: October 15, 2023
Matthew 22:1-14
This week’s parable is difficult to interpret. Last week, I had no doubt that the owner of the vineyard represented God. I have my doubts about the identity of the king in this parable. After his first invitation to the wedding feast that he has prepared for his son is ignored, he sends his slaves with the message that the food is ready. When the responses of the invited guests range from making light of the message to killing the messengers, the king becomes enraged and sends troops to destroy the offenders and burn their city. That being done, he sends his slaves back out to invite everyone who they can find. The wedding hall fills up with guests -- a mixture of both good and bad people. Everything seems to be fine until the king comes across a guest who is not wearing a wedding robe. When that guest is unable to explain why, the king has him bound and thrown out into the darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. The parable concludes with the mysterious line, “many will be called, but few will be chosen.”
The first part of the parable seems simple enough. God has sent prophet after prophet to the people of Israel, and they have been ignored, rejected, or even killed. Then and now, people are liable to put off any commitment to God in favor of things that seem more pressing. Most commentators agree that the destruction of the city refers to the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple. While this explains why Matthew included it, it doesn’t help today’s reader much; it is difficult to imagine someone being driven to murder by being invited to a feast.
Meanwhile, the destruction of the city must have been quick, because the feast is still on after it is accomplished. The messengers gather everyone who they can find to come to the feast. Since this is what the king asked them to do, his anger at the guest without a wedding robe is a real curveball. The idea that it was a tradition to provide wedding garments to the guests has been raised and discredited, so what was it that so bothered the king? This is where the commentators begin some serious verbal gymnastics. The guest in question was at the feast out of a sense of obligation, not with a sense of joy appropriate to the situation. The guest felt so confident in himself that he saw no need to even clean up before he came to the table. The guest saw his presence as a gift to the king, not the other way around… Most of the interpretations have something to do with the intentions rather than the actions of the guest, and they conclude that the message must be that “real” faith means letting go of self and embracing the joy and abundance of the kingdom. This might take the form of engaging in righteous works not as a way to earn salvation, but as a response to salvation.
All of these conclusions are fine, but I struggle to get them from the parable itself. The king is especially troubling as a representation of God. The invitation to the feast focuses on what is being offered to the guests -- lots of meat -- and doesn’t mention the occasion, the wedding, at all. The invited guests end up either being dismissed as unworthy or slaughtered. If this is meant to be a warning to the people of Israel, I suppose that it makes sense, but I am not sure why the newly-invited guests show up unless it is for a free meal. Watching a king who has just burned a city cast out a guest for not meeting the dress code seems like a strange invitation to the Gentiles, doesn’t it?
Matthew 22:1-14
This week’s parable is difficult to interpret. Last week, I had no doubt that the owner of the vineyard represented God. I have my doubts about the identity of the king in this parable. After his first invitation to the wedding feast that he has prepared for his son is ignored, he sends his slaves with the message that the food is ready. When the responses of the invited guests range from making light of the message to killing the messengers, the king becomes enraged and sends troops to destroy the offenders and burn their city. That being done, he sends his slaves back out to invite everyone who they can find. The wedding hall fills up with guests -- a mixture of both good and bad people. Everything seems to be fine until the king comes across a guest who is not wearing a wedding robe. When that guest is unable to explain why, the king has him bound and thrown out into the darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. The parable concludes with the mysterious line, “many will be called, but few will be chosen.”
The first part of the parable seems simple enough. God has sent prophet after prophet to the people of Israel, and they have been ignored, rejected, or even killed. Then and now, people are liable to put off any commitment to God in favor of things that seem more pressing. Most commentators agree that the destruction of the city refers to the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple. While this explains why Matthew included it, it doesn’t help today’s reader much; it is difficult to imagine someone being driven to murder by being invited to a feast.
Meanwhile, the destruction of the city must have been quick, because the feast is still on after it is accomplished. The messengers gather everyone who they can find to come to the feast. Since this is what the king asked them to do, his anger at the guest without a wedding robe is a real curveball. The idea that it was a tradition to provide wedding garments to the guests has been raised and discredited, so what was it that so bothered the king? This is where the commentators begin some serious verbal gymnastics. The guest in question was at the feast out of a sense of obligation, not with a sense of joy appropriate to the situation. The guest felt so confident in himself that he saw no need to even clean up before he came to the table. The guest saw his presence as a gift to the king, not the other way around… Most of the interpretations have something to do with the intentions rather than the actions of the guest, and they conclude that the message must be that “real” faith means letting go of self and embracing the joy and abundance of the kingdom. This might take the form of engaging in righteous works not as a way to earn salvation, but as a response to salvation.
All of these conclusions are fine, but I struggle to get them from the parable itself. The king is especially troubling as a representation of God. The invitation to the feast focuses on what is being offered to the guests -- lots of meat -- and doesn’t mention the occasion, the wedding, at all. The invited guests end up either being dismissed as unworthy or slaughtered. If this is meant to be a warning to the people of Israel, I suppose that it makes sense, but I am not sure why the newly-invited guests show up unless it is for a free meal. Watching a king who has just burned a city cast out a guest for not meeting the dress code seems like a strange invitation to the Gentiles, doesn’t it?
Pentecost 19: October 8, 2023
Matthew 21:33-46
Did any of you see the double rainbow on Thursday night? I can’t remember the last time that I saw a rainbow that was so vivid. Of course it reminded me of God’s words to Noah after the flood: “I will never again curse the ground because of humans, for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth.” This, in turn, brought to mind today’s parable, which illustrates God’s incomprehensible patience with and concern for humanity. The vineyard owner, who clearly represents God, does the same thing that God does after the flood by breaking the natural order of cause and effect or retribution.
We can trace this law even to the Golden Rule. If we treat others as we want to be treated, it is because we want the circle to be completed; we want to be treated as we want to be treated. There is little chance that we will continue being gracious to someone who treats us poorly, takes us for granted, or hurts us in any way. We withhold forgiveness until we are assured that the other party is sorry for what they have done. We expect, at the least, gratitude for our kindness to others. We expect others to be grateful for what they have, even while we complain about what we have. We forget, like the tenants, that everything that we have is a gift from God -- that it never belonged to us in the first place. We take credit for good fortune and make excuses for our shortcomings. We are a downright miserable bunch, but God loves us anyway.
The flood didn’t teach God how to manage his anger. Jesus didn’t come to earth to bolster the reputation of an angry God. God has always extended forgiveness to us even when we aren’t sorry, when we don’t ask, when we don’t even believe that we need it. No matter how many times we spit in his face, God keeps on loving us. Well, the parable tells us that there is a limit. The sticky wicket is that we can’t be certain when our last chance will be. AMEN
Matthew 21:33-46
Did any of you see the double rainbow on Thursday night? I can’t remember the last time that I saw a rainbow that was so vivid. Of course it reminded me of God’s words to Noah after the flood: “I will never again curse the ground because of humans, for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth.” This, in turn, brought to mind today’s parable, which illustrates God’s incomprehensible patience with and concern for humanity. The vineyard owner, who clearly represents God, does the same thing that God does after the flood by breaking the natural order of cause and effect or retribution.
We can trace this law even to the Golden Rule. If we treat others as we want to be treated, it is because we want the circle to be completed; we want to be treated as we want to be treated. There is little chance that we will continue being gracious to someone who treats us poorly, takes us for granted, or hurts us in any way. We withhold forgiveness until we are assured that the other party is sorry for what they have done. We expect, at the least, gratitude for our kindness to others. We expect others to be grateful for what they have, even while we complain about what we have. We forget, like the tenants, that everything that we have is a gift from God -- that it never belonged to us in the first place. We take credit for good fortune and make excuses for our shortcomings. We are a downright miserable bunch, but God loves us anyway.
The flood didn’t teach God how to manage his anger. Jesus didn’t come to earth to bolster the reputation of an angry God. God has always extended forgiveness to us even when we aren’t sorry, when we don’t ask, when we don’t even believe that we need it. No matter how many times we spit in his face, God keeps on loving us. Well, the parable tells us that there is a limit. The sticky wicket is that we can’t be certain when our last chance will be. AMEN
Pentecost 18: October 1
Matthew 21:23-32
Today we have another parable that Jesus tells in response to several questions. Just a day earlier, he rode into town on a donkey while the crowds shouted “Hosanna” and lined the road with palm leaves and cloaks. When he arrived in Jerusalem, “the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” to which the crowds replied, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” Then Jesus went to the temple, drove out the money-changers, and began to heal the blind and lame. When the children began chanting, “Hosanna to the son of David,” the chief priests were angry and asked, “Do you hear what they are saying?” The next day, Jesus returns to the temple and begins teaching. The religious leaders ask, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus kicks off the parable with a question of his own: “What do you think?”
Once again, the parable is straightforward and easy to identify with. Upon being asked by their father to work in his vineyard, one son flatly refuses but later goes while the other respectfully agrees yet never goes. While neither son is perfect, it is easy to answer Jesus’ question, “Which did the will of his father?” Clearly, it is important to practice what we preach. Only someone as delusional, corrupt, and power hungry as the religious leaders of Jesus’ time would be foolish enough to ignore that, right? So what’s in this story for us?
If we are honest, we likely see ourselves in both of the sons, so it isn’t a matter of deciding which we are. Besides, both are their father’s sons -- summoned and sent. The dissonance between their words and their deeds is not terminal. Perhaps it will help to think about the vineyard to which we have been sent, whether that be as individuals or as congregations: our families, our neighbors, our communities, our jobs, and what our work is supposed to be within them. As followers of Christ within our contexts, are we called to provide spiritual care along with helping others with their material needs? Where is the line between providing for ourselves and our families and becoming materialistic? How can we help others with their spiritual needs if we don’t have the language to explain our own relationship with Christ? Does it matter if we do the right thing for the wrong reason? Would we be better off with good intentions than with results? How do we measure anyway?
There isn’t a simple, one size fits all answer to these questions. On Wednesday night, I asked the confirmands, “What does it mean to be a Christian?” It’s not an easy question to answer because it is like a nesting doll where every answer leads to another question. My current answer is that being a Christian means that I am engaged in a relationship with God through Jesus and that deepening that relationship is the essential work of my lifetime. For those tempted to reply, “And how’s that working out for you?” I’ll get back to you on that. AMEN
Matthew 21:23-32
Today we have another parable that Jesus tells in response to several questions. Just a day earlier, he rode into town on a donkey while the crowds shouted “Hosanna” and lined the road with palm leaves and cloaks. When he arrived in Jerusalem, “the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” to which the crowds replied, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” Then Jesus went to the temple, drove out the money-changers, and began to heal the blind and lame. When the children began chanting, “Hosanna to the son of David,” the chief priests were angry and asked, “Do you hear what they are saying?” The next day, Jesus returns to the temple and begins teaching. The religious leaders ask, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus kicks off the parable with a question of his own: “What do you think?”
Once again, the parable is straightforward and easy to identify with. Upon being asked by their father to work in his vineyard, one son flatly refuses but later goes while the other respectfully agrees yet never goes. While neither son is perfect, it is easy to answer Jesus’ question, “Which did the will of his father?” Clearly, it is important to practice what we preach. Only someone as delusional, corrupt, and power hungry as the religious leaders of Jesus’ time would be foolish enough to ignore that, right? So what’s in this story for us?
If we are honest, we likely see ourselves in both of the sons, so it isn’t a matter of deciding which we are. Besides, both are their father’s sons -- summoned and sent. The dissonance between their words and their deeds is not terminal. Perhaps it will help to think about the vineyard to which we have been sent, whether that be as individuals or as congregations: our families, our neighbors, our communities, our jobs, and what our work is supposed to be within them. As followers of Christ within our contexts, are we called to provide spiritual care along with helping others with their material needs? Where is the line between providing for ourselves and our families and becoming materialistic? How can we help others with their spiritual needs if we don’t have the language to explain our own relationship with Christ? Does it matter if we do the right thing for the wrong reason? Would we be better off with good intentions than with results? How do we measure anyway?
There isn’t a simple, one size fits all answer to these questions. On Wednesday night, I asked the confirmands, “What does it mean to be a Christian?” It’s not an easy question to answer because it is like a nesting doll where every answer leads to another question. My current answer is that being a Christian means that I am engaged in a relationship with God through Jesus and that deepening that relationship is the essential work of my lifetime. For those tempted to reply, “And how’s that working out for you?” I’ll get back to you on that. AMEN
Pentecost 17: September 24
Matthew 20:1-16
Like many of Jesus’ parables, today’s reading is told in response to a question. Actually, it is in response to several questions. beginning with the rich young man who asks, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” After Jesus tells him to sell all of his possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow him, the disciples ask, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus tells them that, “For mortals (salvation) is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” Still thinking of the rich young man, Peter asks, “Look, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” Jesus tells him that when creation has been restored and he is seated on his throne, the disciples will also be enthroned, each to judge one of the twelve tribes of Israel. Had he stopped there, the parable would be unnecessary. The hierarchy of Heaven from Jesus to the disciples to the people of Israel would be established. However, Jesus goes on to say, “everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my name’s sake will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” Not only is Jesus including everyone; he is also upsetting what would seem to be the logical order of Heaven.
Even if we understand that God’s ways are not our ways and our thoughts are not his thoughts, it is difficult to make sense of this parable or to understand what it tells us about the kingdom of God. The situation itself is entirely accessible. It is crunch time, and the harvest must be gathered. The landowner goes into town at the crack of dawn and hires a group of workers. Because of the urgency of the harvest, the landowner returns to town every few hours and hires everyone he can find each time. The first group of workers was hired for the usual daily wage, the second group is told that they will be paid what is right, and pay is not mentioned to the remaining workers. It is only when the workers begin to receive their pay that the logic of the story falls apart. Yes, it is the landowners money, and he can spend it however he wants, but how is he ever going to get anyone to work a full day if he angers the best workers and rewards the slackers?
This is the point where we need to remember the questions that led up to the parable: What must we do to have eternal life? and Who can be saved? The answer here is that we have to answer the call to work in the vineyard, and the payment is nothing less than salvation. In his book, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC, Frederick Buechner uses the experience of love as an analogy for salvation, saying, “When you love somebody, it is no longer yourself who is the center of your own universe. It is the one you love who is. You forget yourself. You deny yourself. You give of yourself, so that by all the rules of arithmetical logic there should be less of yourself than there was to start with. Only by a curious paradox there is more. You feel that at last you really are yourself. You give up your old self-seeking self and thereby become yourself at last. You do not love God so that, tit for tat, he will then save you. TO love GOd is to be saved. To love anybody is a significant step along the way. you do not love God and live for him so you will go to Heaven. Whichever side of the grave you happen to be talking about, to love God and live for him is Heaven. It is a gift, not an achievement. You can make yourself moral. You can make yourself religious. But you can’t make yourself love. ‘We love,’ John says, ‘because he first loved us.” Who knows how the awareness of God’s love first hits people. We all have our own tales to tell, including those of us who wouldn’t believe in God if you paid us. Some moment happens in your life that you say Yes to right up to the roots of your hair, that makes it worth having been born just to have happen. Whether you thank God for such a moment or thank your lucky stars, it is a moment that is trying to open up your whole life. If you turn your back on such a moment and hurry along to Business as Usual, it may lose you the ball game. If you throw your arms around such a moment and bless it, it may save your soul.
Matthew 20:1-16
Like many of Jesus’ parables, today’s reading is told in response to a question. Actually, it is in response to several questions. beginning with the rich young man who asks, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” After Jesus tells him to sell all of his possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow him, the disciples ask, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus tells them that, “For mortals (salvation) is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” Still thinking of the rich young man, Peter asks, “Look, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” Jesus tells him that when creation has been restored and he is seated on his throne, the disciples will also be enthroned, each to judge one of the twelve tribes of Israel. Had he stopped there, the parable would be unnecessary. The hierarchy of Heaven from Jesus to the disciples to the people of Israel would be established. However, Jesus goes on to say, “everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my name’s sake will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” Not only is Jesus including everyone; he is also upsetting what would seem to be the logical order of Heaven.
Even if we understand that God’s ways are not our ways and our thoughts are not his thoughts, it is difficult to make sense of this parable or to understand what it tells us about the kingdom of God. The situation itself is entirely accessible. It is crunch time, and the harvest must be gathered. The landowner goes into town at the crack of dawn and hires a group of workers. Because of the urgency of the harvest, the landowner returns to town every few hours and hires everyone he can find each time. The first group of workers was hired for the usual daily wage, the second group is told that they will be paid what is right, and pay is not mentioned to the remaining workers. It is only when the workers begin to receive their pay that the logic of the story falls apart. Yes, it is the landowners money, and he can spend it however he wants, but how is he ever going to get anyone to work a full day if he angers the best workers and rewards the slackers?
This is the point where we need to remember the questions that led up to the parable: What must we do to have eternal life? and Who can be saved? The answer here is that we have to answer the call to work in the vineyard, and the payment is nothing less than salvation. In his book, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC, Frederick Buechner uses the experience of love as an analogy for salvation, saying, “When you love somebody, it is no longer yourself who is the center of your own universe. It is the one you love who is. You forget yourself. You deny yourself. You give of yourself, so that by all the rules of arithmetical logic there should be less of yourself than there was to start with. Only by a curious paradox there is more. You feel that at last you really are yourself. You give up your old self-seeking self and thereby become yourself at last. You do not love God so that, tit for tat, he will then save you. TO love GOd is to be saved. To love anybody is a significant step along the way. you do not love God and live for him so you will go to Heaven. Whichever side of the grave you happen to be talking about, to love God and live for him is Heaven. It is a gift, not an achievement. You can make yourself moral. You can make yourself religious. But you can’t make yourself love. ‘We love,’ John says, ‘because he first loved us.” Who knows how the awareness of God’s love first hits people. We all have our own tales to tell, including those of us who wouldn’t believe in God if you paid us. Some moment happens in your life that you say Yes to right up to the roots of your hair, that makes it worth having been born just to have happen. Whether you thank God for such a moment or thank your lucky stars, it is a moment that is trying to open up your whole life. If you turn your back on such a moment and hurry along to Business as Usual, it may lose you the ball game. If you throw your arms around such a moment and bless it, it may save your soul.
Pentecost 16: November 17
Matthew 18:21-35 The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant
As I thought about this parable, the toughest line of the Lord’s Prayer, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us,” came to mind. I call this the toughest line because I would like to be forgiven far more and far better than I forgive others, and it seems quite likely that God is better at forgiveness than I am. It was easy to reduce the meaning of the parable to something like, “We cannot receive the forgiveness of God until we have shown forgiveness to our fellow man.” (Barclay). Do you see the problem here? If we are forgiving in order to be forgiven, are we really forgiving, or are we just trying to placate God?
When I read Barbara Brown-Taylor’s sermon on this text, I realized that the heart of this parable isn’t about the importance of the act of forgiveness, but what true forgiveness is. The king forgives the servant in every sense of the word: he lets go of his feelings of resentment and his claim on the servant for repayment. The king has not simply decided that it isn’t worth the trouble of punishing the servant or that the amount that he will get back in relation to what he is owed is insignificant; that would be forgiveness from the head. The king, knowing full well the enormity of the debt, forgives the servant from his heart. Forgiveness allows both of them to move forward, while resentment would have kept them stuck. According to Taylor, “The only reason for any of us to forgive each other is because we want the relationship back again, which is hard to do when you are keeping score.”
There are a couple of reasons that the servant missed this. First of all, the relationship between king and servant, between lender and borrower, is generally not seen as a relationship of equals. Don’t we often
think of our relationship with God that way? No matter how many times we hear it, we still wonder how God could possibly care about creatures as wretched as us. The second reason has more to do with how we think forgiveness works. We often apologize because we feel that it is expected of us. We aren’t quite sure what we did wrong, but someone seems upset with us. Our apology is a way of asking them to get over it and start being nicer to us. Even when we are moved to ask for forgiveness by the knowledge that we have done something wrong, what we really want is for the other person to quit busting our chops about it.
In his video on this week’s gospel, Matthew Kelly said, “Often, our need to forgive is greater than the other’s need to be forgiven.” This goes back to the restoration of relationship that true forgiveness brings. When we forgive, we let go of all of the junk that keeps us from really seeing the other person -- our memories of past wrongs, our fear of getting less than we give from the relationship -- and free ourselves to build deep, meaningful relationships. We sometimes separate forgive and forget, but they are two sides of the same coin. When we remember something, we bring past events into our present consciousness. Forgetting literally means un-getting, letting go. This is what Jesus meant when he told the disciples, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:23 NRSV)
Because he doesn’t understand that he has been forgiven, and not just excused, the servant is unable to forgive the man who owes him money. He doesn’t really even see the man, just the debt. When we retain the sins of others, we are stuck. When we forgive the sins of others, we are able to move forward. We all need to forgive as badly as we need to be forgiven. AMEN
Matthew 18:21-35 The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant
As I thought about this parable, the toughest line of the Lord’s Prayer, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us,” came to mind. I call this the toughest line because I would like to be forgiven far more and far better than I forgive others, and it seems quite likely that God is better at forgiveness than I am. It was easy to reduce the meaning of the parable to something like, “We cannot receive the forgiveness of God until we have shown forgiveness to our fellow man.” (Barclay). Do you see the problem here? If we are forgiving in order to be forgiven, are we really forgiving, or are we just trying to placate God?
When I read Barbara Brown-Taylor’s sermon on this text, I realized that the heart of this parable isn’t about the importance of the act of forgiveness, but what true forgiveness is. The king forgives the servant in every sense of the word: he lets go of his feelings of resentment and his claim on the servant for repayment. The king has not simply decided that it isn’t worth the trouble of punishing the servant or that the amount that he will get back in relation to what he is owed is insignificant; that would be forgiveness from the head. The king, knowing full well the enormity of the debt, forgives the servant from his heart. Forgiveness allows both of them to move forward, while resentment would have kept them stuck. According to Taylor, “The only reason for any of us to forgive each other is because we want the relationship back again, which is hard to do when you are keeping score.”
There are a couple of reasons that the servant missed this. First of all, the relationship between king and servant, between lender and borrower, is generally not seen as a relationship of equals. Don’t we often
think of our relationship with God that way? No matter how many times we hear it, we still wonder how God could possibly care about creatures as wretched as us. The second reason has more to do with how we think forgiveness works. We often apologize because we feel that it is expected of us. We aren’t quite sure what we did wrong, but someone seems upset with us. Our apology is a way of asking them to get over it and start being nicer to us. Even when we are moved to ask for forgiveness by the knowledge that we have done something wrong, what we really want is for the other person to quit busting our chops about it.
In his video on this week’s gospel, Matthew Kelly said, “Often, our need to forgive is greater than the other’s need to be forgiven.” This goes back to the restoration of relationship that true forgiveness brings. When we forgive, we let go of all of the junk that keeps us from really seeing the other person -- our memories of past wrongs, our fear of getting less than we give from the relationship -- and free ourselves to build deep, meaningful relationships. We sometimes separate forgive and forget, but they are two sides of the same coin. When we remember something, we bring past events into our present consciousness. Forgetting literally means un-getting, letting go. This is what Jesus meant when he told the disciples, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:23 NRSV)
Because he doesn’t understand that he has been forgiven, and not just excused, the servant is unable to forgive the man who owes him money. He doesn’t really even see the man, just the debt. When we retain the sins of others, we are stuck. When we forgive the sins of others, we are able to move forward. We all need to forgive as badly as we need to be forgiven. AMEN
Pentecost 13: August 27
Matthew 16:13-20
I can’t remember ever stopping at this point -- hearing Peter correctly identify Jesus without immediately screwing it up and being told, “Get behind me, Satan.” It seems apt to stop here, because Matthew’s account of the life of Jesus is about to take a major turn. Jesus has been traveling about with the disciples, teaching, healing and preaching while responding to challenges from the Pharisees. The setting for today’s reading, Caesarea Philippi, is the site of shrines to many of the Greek gods, along with Herod’s temple. In this setting, it seems like Jesus is asking why the disciples are following him instead of worshiping someone or something else. The first question, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” shows that people have an incomplete understanding. The second question, “But who do you say that I am?” yields the correct answer. More importantly, the answer reflects a special kind of understanding.
You know the saying, “It’s not what you know but who you know that matters.” Jesus praises Peter not for giving the correct answer, but because his answer comes through divine revelation. It isn’t simply that Jesus has performed enough miracles (or done enough tricks, depending on how you look at it) to finally convince the disciples that he is the messiah. Instead, Peter is able to profess faith in something that he cannot understand. By doing so, he has become the first Christian -- the first stone in the foundation of the church.
We know that Peter will soon be reminded of the incompleteness of his understanding, and today’s reading ends with the disciples being told not to tell anyone that Jesus is the Messiah. That is because the next step of their education is about to begin as Jesus turns toward Jerusalem and his death.
Matthew 16:13-20
I can’t remember ever stopping at this point -- hearing Peter correctly identify Jesus without immediately screwing it up and being told, “Get behind me, Satan.” It seems apt to stop here, because Matthew’s account of the life of Jesus is about to take a major turn. Jesus has been traveling about with the disciples, teaching, healing and preaching while responding to challenges from the Pharisees. The setting for today’s reading, Caesarea Philippi, is the site of shrines to many of the Greek gods, along with Herod’s temple. In this setting, it seems like Jesus is asking why the disciples are following him instead of worshiping someone or something else. The first question, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” shows that people have an incomplete understanding. The second question, “But who do you say that I am?” yields the correct answer. More importantly, the answer reflects a special kind of understanding.
You know the saying, “It’s not what you know but who you know that matters.” Jesus praises Peter not for giving the correct answer, but because his answer comes through divine revelation. It isn’t simply that Jesus has performed enough miracles (or done enough tricks, depending on how you look at it) to finally convince the disciples that he is the messiah. Instead, Peter is able to profess faith in something that he cannot understand. By doing so, he has become the first Christian -- the first stone in the foundation of the church.
We know that Peter will soon be reminded of the incompleteness of his understanding, and today’s reading ends with the disciples being told not to tell anyone that Jesus is the Messiah. That is because the next step of their education is about to begin as Jesus turns toward Jerusalem and his death.
Pentecost 12: August 20
Matthew 15:10-20
On the surface, the message of the gospel seems to be that the Pharisees, with their focus on following the laws, have it all wrong. Faith is not about rules and rituals (how a person acts); it is about what is in a person’s heart. Because of the way that Jesus and the Pharisees so often clash in the gospels -- they seem to ignore all of the good that Jesus does because he does it on the Sabbath or in another way that breaks the complex network of rules that they have built in an attempt to follow the commandments -- we tend to dismiss them altogether as nothing more than foils for Jesus and obstacles to the “new covenant.” Common sense tells us that not all Pharisees were alike, which allows us to look more closely at their motivation.
While the religious leaders in Jesus’ time were compromised, that hardly makes them unique. It is easy to remember the struggles and squabbles of the people under Moses as they made their way from Egypt to the promised land, but we sometimes forget other important details. The Babylonian Exile, when many of the people of Israel were forcibly removed from their homeland and spent generations living elsewhere, might be the most important of those details. Those who were exiled had to choose between observing their faith, worshiping as those in their new locations did, or doing some sort of mixture. If and when they returned to Judah, they had to deal with this mix of those who returned and those who had never left, those who were very strict about following their religious customs and those who had changed their manner of worship, those who had added things from other religions, those who had not, and those who had drifted away from religion altogether. The Pharisees as they are portrayed in the gospels clung to things like dietary restrictions and ritual handwashing as a way to preserve their Jewish distinctiveness. In that way, it is no different than current disagreements about who can receive the sacraments, whether infant baptism is legitimate, or which translation of the Bible is authentic.
In spite of their spiritual blindness, Jesus is not dismissing everything that the Pharisees believed. Like Isaiah, Jesus uses the ten commandments as his baseline for what is pure and what is impure. This too resonates with the differences between the various branches of Christianity today and the question that my Missouri Synod friend likes to ask me -- “Are the ten commandments rules to be followed, or just suggestions?” Jesus addresses this in the Sermon on the Mount when he says, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” The way that Jesus presents it in today’s gospel shows us that saying that we follow the commandments is not enough; nor is focusing our energy on outwardly keeping them. For example, following the first commandment by never swearing is commendable, but it isn’t the point. Not killing anyone or sleeping with someone else’s spouse are part of following the commandments, but there is more to it than that.
The New Covenant involves having the rules written on our hearts -- on a disposition that leads us to do what is right and to live according to the teachings of Jesus. AMEN
Matthew 15:10-20
On the surface, the message of the gospel seems to be that the Pharisees, with their focus on following the laws, have it all wrong. Faith is not about rules and rituals (how a person acts); it is about what is in a person’s heart. Because of the way that Jesus and the Pharisees so often clash in the gospels -- they seem to ignore all of the good that Jesus does because he does it on the Sabbath or in another way that breaks the complex network of rules that they have built in an attempt to follow the commandments -- we tend to dismiss them altogether as nothing more than foils for Jesus and obstacles to the “new covenant.” Common sense tells us that not all Pharisees were alike, which allows us to look more closely at their motivation.
While the religious leaders in Jesus’ time were compromised, that hardly makes them unique. It is easy to remember the struggles and squabbles of the people under Moses as they made their way from Egypt to the promised land, but we sometimes forget other important details. The Babylonian Exile, when many of the people of Israel were forcibly removed from their homeland and spent generations living elsewhere, might be the most important of those details. Those who were exiled had to choose between observing their faith, worshiping as those in their new locations did, or doing some sort of mixture. If and when they returned to Judah, they had to deal with this mix of those who returned and those who had never left, those who were very strict about following their religious customs and those who had changed their manner of worship, those who had added things from other religions, those who had not, and those who had drifted away from religion altogether. The Pharisees as they are portrayed in the gospels clung to things like dietary restrictions and ritual handwashing as a way to preserve their Jewish distinctiveness. In that way, it is no different than current disagreements about who can receive the sacraments, whether infant baptism is legitimate, or which translation of the Bible is authentic.
In spite of their spiritual blindness, Jesus is not dismissing everything that the Pharisees believed. Like Isaiah, Jesus uses the ten commandments as his baseline for what is pure and what is impure. This too resonates with the differences between the various branches of Christianity today and the question that my Missouri Synod friend likes to ask me -- “Are the ten commandments rules to be followed, or just suggestions?” Jesus addresses this in the Sermon on the Mount when he says, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” The way that Jesus presents it in today’s gospel shows us that saying that we follow the commandments is not enough; nor is focusing our energy on outwardly keeping them. For example, following the first commandment by never swearing is commendable, but it isn’t the point. Not killing anyone or sleeping with someone else’s spouse are part of following the commandments, but there is more to it than that.
The New Covenant involves having the rules written on our hearts -- on a disposition that leads us to do what is right and to live according to the teachings of Jesus. AMEN
Pentecost 11, August 13 Matthew 14:22-23
This week’s gospel is another familiar story. Last week’s gospel began with Jesus going to the other side of the sea to be alone and to pray after hearing of the murder of John the Baptist. The disciples and thousands of others beat him there. After spending the day healing them and then feeding them, Jesus sends them all back where they came from and goes up the mountain to pray. On their return trip, the disciples’ boat is battered by wind and waves, and they aren’t making any progress. In this account, it doesn’t seem to be the storm that frightens them -- it is when they see Jesus walking on the water that they become terrified and cry out. As the Lord has done so many times before, Jesus tells them, “Do not be afraid,” and, as God said to Moses from the burning bush, “I am.” As is his way, Peter says, “If it is really you, command me to come to you on the water,” takes a few steps, notices the wind, and begins to sink. As he reaches out to save him, Jesus asks, “Why did you doubt?”
That question does not refer just to the moment when Peter was distracted by the wind. Remember that the disciples had just witnessed the feeding of the five thousand and had each been left with a heaping basket of leftovers. Even so, their first thought when they saw a mysterious figure on the water wasn’t, “Jesus!” but “a g g g ghost!!!” And it is not Jesus who decides to take this opportunity to give the disciples a vivid illustration about the power of faith and what can happen when faith wavers; it was Peter’s idea to challenge Jesus in this way.
The biggest obstacle to understanding this story is over-analysis. It doesn’t occur to the disciples to ask Jesus for help reaching their destination safely through the storm any more than it occurred to them that the crowd could be fed. In fact, their response to seeing Jesus is to cry out in fear and confusion. When Peter notices the wind and begins to sink, Jesus is right there, able to grab his hand immediately and save him. Even so, it is not until Jesus and Peter join them in the boat and the wind ceases that the disciples declare, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Christ is always as close as our outstretched hand. We spend much of our lives oblivious to that, whether because we don’t think that we need help or because we think that we are beyond help. AMEN
This week’s gospel is another familiar story. Last week’s gospel began with Jesus going to the other side of the sea to be alone and to pray after hearing of the murder of John the Baptist. The disciples and thousands of others beat him there. After spending the day healing them and then feeding them, Jesus sends them all back where they came from and goes up the mountain to pray. On their return trip, the disciples’ boat is battered by wind and waves, and they aren’t making any progress. In this account, it doesn’t seem to be the storm that frightens them -- it is when they see Jesus walking on the water that they become terrified and cry out. As the Lord has done so many times before, Jesus tells them, “Do not be afraid,” and, as God said to Moses from the burning bush, “I am.” As is his way, Peter says, “If it is really you, command me to come to you on the water,” takes a few steps, notices the wind, and begins to sink. As he reaches out to save him, Jesus asks, “Why did you doubt?”
That question does not refer just to the moment when Peter was distracted by the wind. Remember that the disciples had just witnessed the feeding of the five thousand and had each been left with a heaping basket of leftovers. Even so, their first thought when they saw a mysterious figure on the water wasn’t, “Jesus!” but “a g g g ghost!!!” And it is not Jesus who decides to take this opportunity to give the disciples a vivid illustration about the power of faith and what can happen when faith wavers; it was Peter’s idea to challenge Jesus in this way.
The biggest obstacle to understanding this story is over-analysis. It doesn’t occur to the disciples to ask Jesus for help reaching their destination safely through the storm any more than it occurred to them that the crowd could be fed. In fact, their response to seeing Jesus is to cry out in fear and confusion. When Peter notices the wind and begins to sink, Jesus is right there, able to grab his hand immediately and save him. Even so, it is not until Jesus and Peter join them in the boat and the wind ceases that the disciples declare, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Christ is always as close as our outstretched hand. We spend much of our lives oblivious to that, whether because we don’t think that we need help or because we think that we are beyond help. AMEN
Pentecost 10: August 6, 2023
Isaiah 55:1-5, Romans 9:1-5, Matthew 14:13-21
“When Jesus went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.” If we put the word compassion on a continuum, we might begin with pity, followed with sympathy, then empathy, then compassion, and, finally, mercy. After hearing of the death of John the Baptist, Jesus decides to withdraw to the wilderness by himself. The crowds hear his plans and beat him to his destination. I have always assumed that Jesus wanted to be alone and that the crowds were intruding on that wish, and that might be so, but the text doesn’t say so. It is equally possible that Jesus felt the need to be with the crowd in a place that would remind them of John and his ministry and/or that the crowds raced ahead not because they were selfish, but because they wanted to console and support Jesus in his grief.
I have also always thought that a big part of the message of this story is that the church must remember the physical needs in the world and not just the spiritual. As I mentioned earlier, today’s first and second lessons give perspective on that idea as Isaiah invites the people both to delight themselves in rich food and to listen to the good news while Paul laments that the people have turned away from God’s blessings. Perhaps Jesus’ statement, “They need not go away” is as much about the need to be together as it is about hunger.
The second part of Jesus’ statement, “you give them something to eat” places the responsibility on the disciples. Even though they have been sent out with the power to heal, it doesn’t occur to the disciples that they can feed the crowd with the five loaves and two fish that they have brought.
Perhaps they felt that the healing of the sick among the crowd had been miracle enough and that the people were capable of feeding themselves if they would just walk out of the wilderness. Maybe they were tired or they believed that Jesus needed time alone to rest and pray.
Whatever the case, Jesus told them to bring the food to him. He then gave thanks for, blessed, broke, and shared the food. We don’t know how the next part worked. Did mountains of bread and fish appear immediately? Did the food multiply as it was being passed around? Did the people empty their pockets and purses of what they had brought? In such a large crowd, how many even realized what was happening? We do know that the food was returned to the disciples for distribution -- that they were, literally, the ones who fed the crowds. We also know that there were twelve baskets of leftovers. There are many theories about the significance of the twelve baskets. I like the simplest explanation best: each disciple ended up with a basket. And that’s all there is. Matthew gives us no reaction from the crowd or the disciples, and no explanation from Jesus. Instead, Jesus immediately dismisses the disciples and the crowds and goes up the mountain alone to pray.
My key takeaway from the feeding of the 5,000 is what it reveals about the covenant relationship. Jesus doesn’t view a day spent in fellowship with the people as an intrusion on his journey to the mountain and fellowship with God. It is his very nature to have compassion on us -- to heal us, feed us, and dwell amongst us. There is no power in heaven or on earth that can separate us from the love of Christ -- not even our own indifference. AMEN
Isaiah 55:1-5, Romans 9:1-5, Matthew 14:13-21
“When Jesus went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.” If we put the word compassion on a continuum, we might begin with pity, followed with sympathy, then empathy, then compassion, and, finally, mercy. After hearing of the death of John the Baptist, Jesus decides to withdraw to the wilderness by himself. The crowds hear his plans and beat him to his destination. I have always assumed that Jesus wanted to be alone and that the crowds were intruding on that wish, and that might be so, but the text doesn’t say so. It is equally possible that Jesus felt the need to be with the crowd in a place that would remind them of John and his ministry and/or that the crowds raced ahead not because they were selfish, but because they wanted to console and support Jesus in his grief.
I have also always thought that a big part of the message of this story is that the church must remember the physical needs in the world and not just the spiritual. As I mentioned earlier, today’s first and second lessons give perspective on that idea as Isaiah invites the people both to delight themselves in rich food and to listen to the good news while Paul laments that the people have turned away from God’s blessings. Perhaps Jesus’ statement, “They need not go away” is as much about the need to be together as it is about hunger.
The second part of Jesus’ statement, “you give them something to eat” places the responsibility on the disciples. Even though they have been sent out with the power to heal, it doesn’t occur to the disciples that they can feed the crowd with the five loaves and two fish that they have brought.
Perhaps they felt that the healing of the sick among the crowd had been miracle enough and that the people were capable of feeding themselves if they would just walk out of the wilderness. Maybe they were tired or they believed that Jesus needed time alone to rest and pray.
Whatever the case, Jesus told them to bring the food to him. He then gave thanks for, blessed, broke, and shared the food. We don’t know how the next part worked. Did mountains of bread and fish appear immediately? Did the food multiply as it was being passed around? Did the people empty their pockets and purses of what they had brought? In such a large crowd, how many even realized what was happening? We do know that the food was returned to the disciples for distribution -- that they were, literally, the ones who fed the crowds. We also know that there were twelve baskets of leftovers. There are many theories about the significance of the twelve baskets. I like the simplest explanation best: each disciple ended up with a basket. And that’s all there is. Matthew gives us no reaction from the crowd or the disciples, and no explanation from Jesus. Instead, Jesus immediately dismisses the disciples and the crowds and goes up the mountain alone to pray.
My key takeaway from the feeding of the 5,000 is what it reveals about the covenant relationship. Jesus doesn’t view a day spent in fellowship with the people as an intrusion on his journey to the mountain and fellowship with God. It is his very nature to have compassion on us -- to heal us, feed us, and dwell amongst us. There is no power in heaven or on earth that can separate us from the love of Christ -- not even our own indifference. AMEN
Pentecost 7: Jul7 16
Matthew 13:1-23
I have always viewed this parable as being mostly about the soil. My greatest insight has been that the different types of soil aren’t different people or groups of people; they are present in each of us. While I still believe that is true, my eyes have been opened to a more important message this time around. It began when I was leading worship at Johnson Memorial on Wednesday, and we were singing the hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness” (733 in the red hymnal) when it hit me that it is God who is faithful. That might not sound like much of an insight, but I have spent an inordinate amount of my preaching talking about human faith -- what it is, how we can get more, and how it shows out in the world -- and virtually none reflecting on the astounding faithfulness of God.
Looked at from this perspective, the Parable of the Sower takes on new life. During all of the time that we spend worrying about our own successes and failures, our birds, rocks, and thorns, God continues to patiently sling seeds. While we lament the decline of society, the lack of morality, and the loneliness, isolation, and hostility, the rain and snow come down from heaven and water the earth, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater. Regardless of our ability or inability to measure it, God’s word never returns to him empty.
The section of “Holy Moments” that we just finished discussing focused on hope as a part of the divine plan. Matthew Kelly defines holy moments as “a single moment in which you open yourself to God. You make yourself available to Him. You set aside personal preference and self-interest, and for one moment you do what you prayerfully believe God is calling you to do.” One of the things that makes a moment holy is that you acknowledge the humanity of another person. This can be as simple as smiling at them. Kelly believes that each of these moments has an effect not only on the recipient, but also on the actor. The effect is that we move past the need to evaluate the relative worthiness of others to receive our time and attention, and others, especially those who have lost hope, begin to see their own value. You might call it indiscriminate kindness.
In her sermon on this text, Barbara Brown Taylor imagines a farmer who has stopped sowing several times -- putting out foil to scare the birds away, picking rocks, and pulling weeds. “When he woke the next morning, he walked out into his field and found a big crow sitting on his fake owl. He found rocks he had not found the day before and he found new little leaves on the roots of the briars that had broken off in his hands.” Does this sound familiar? “The sower considered all of this, pushing his cap back on his head, and then he did a strange thing: He began to laugh, just a chuckle at first and then a full-fledged guffaw that turned into a wheeze at the end when his wind ran out.”
“Still laughing and wheezing he went after his seed pouch and began flinging seeds everywhere: into the roots of trees, onto the roof of his house, across all his fences and into his neighbors’ fields. He shook the seeds at his cows and offered a handful to the dog; he even tossed a fistful into the creek, thinking they might take root downstream somewhere. The more he sowed, the more he seemed to have. None of it made any sense to him, but for once that did not seem to matter, and he had to admit that he had never been happier in all his life.”
“Let those who have ears to hear, hear.”
Matthew 13:1-23
I have always viewed this parable as being mostly about the soil. My greatest insight has been that the different types of soil aren’t different people or groups of people; they are present in each of us. While I still believe that is true, my eyes have been opened to a more important message this time around. It began when I was leading worship at Johnson Memorial on Wednesday, and we were singing the hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness” (733 in the red hymnal) when it hit me that it is God who is faithful. That might not sound like much of an insight, but I have spent an inordinate amount of my preaching talking about human faith -- what it is, how we can get more, and how it shows out in the world -- and virtually none reflecting on the astounding faithfulness of God.
Looked at from this perspective, the Parable of the Sower takes on new life. During all of the time that we spend worrying about our own successes and failures, our birds, rocks, and thorns, God continues to patiently sling seeds. While we lament the decline of society, the lack of morality, and the loneliness, isolation, and hostility, the rain and snow come down from heaven and water the earth, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater. Regardless of our ability or inability to measure it, God’s word never returns to him empty.
The section of “Holy Moments” that we just finished discussing focused on hope as a part of the divine plan. Matthew Kelly defines holy moments as “a single moment in which you open yourself to God. You make yourself available to Him. You set aside personal preference and self-interest, and for one moment you do what you prayerfully believe God is calling you to do.” One of the things that makes a moment holy is that you acknowledge the humanity of another person. This can be as simple as smiling at them. Kelly believes that each of these moments has an effect not only on the recipient, but also on the actor. The effect is that we move past the need to evaluate the relative worthiness of others to receive our time and attention, and others, especially those who have lost hope, begin to see their own value. You might call it indiscriminate kindness.
In her sermon on this text, Barbara Brown Taylor imagines a farmer who has stopped sowing several times -- putting out foil to scare the birds away, picking rocks, and pulling weeds. “When he woke the next morning, he walked out into his field and found a big crow sitting on his fake owl. He found rocks he had not found the day before and he found new little leaves on the roots of the briars that had broken off in his hands.” Does this sound familiar? “The sower considered all of this, pushing his cap back on his head, and then he did a strange thing: He began to laugh, just a chuckle at first and then a full-fledged guffaw that turned into a wheeze at the end when his wind ran out.”
“Still laughing and wheezing he went after his seed pouch and began flinging seeds everywhere: into the roots of trees, onto the roof of his house, across all his fences and into his neighbors’ fields. He shook the seeds at his cows and offered a handful to the dog; he even tossed a fistful into the creek, thinking they might take root downstream somewhere. The more he sowed, the more he seemed to have. None of it made any sense to him, but for once that did not seem to matter, and he had to admit that he had never been happier in all his life.”
“Let those who have ears to hear, hear.”
Pentecost 6: July 9
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
I have preached on the second section of today’s gospel at several funerals, and I entered this week intending to focus on the first section. It felt comforting to plan a sermon about how contrary people are. It also provided scriptural evidence that I will never please everyone, or maybe even anyone, so there is no need to try. If I had to mention the yoke, I could do so in my explanation of the first and second lessons while picturing myself, like Jesus, yoked to people who couldn’t possibly appreciate the treasure that is me.
That didn’t work for a couple of reasons. I am just as liable as anyone to complain instead of listening or to pounce on any opportunity to criticize. More importantly, I’m not Jesus. As I mentioned earlier, our yokes are custom-fitted. That means that any chafing is either because we spend too little time yoked or because we can’t tolerate the idea of being yoked. So what does it mean to be yoked to Jesus?
Most importantly, it means that Jesus shares our burdens. God doesn’t give us a heavy load in order to test us; God doesn’t take away our burdens either. He patiently walks alongside us through both good times and bad. It also means that Jesus sets the pace. Whether we struggle to race ahead or we drag our feet, Jesus’ pace doesn’t vary. I am inclined to believe that he does more of his share of the pulling, but not that he can be rushed. One of the reasons that we are so stressed out and exhausted is that we struggle against the reins instead of settling in and pulling. It is not the work that we have to do that is overwhelming, but the fact that we don’t know where to start. In the same way, Jesus sets the course, or at least the destination. I believe that he waits patiently for us to realize just how near the barn is, and that he rejoices when we kick up our heels and rush headlong toward it.
At the heart of this metaphor is the reliance on action, not words. We are not being called to pass a written test on how to work in tandem with the Lord. Nobody expects a draft animal to comprehend, much less explain, the fundamentals of pulling a load. Finally, each yoke is unique, as is each burden. Our experiences likely do not translate well to others. The only way to appreciate the burdens of others is to walk alongside them -- preferably without giving them advice and instructions. At the end, it is all about surrendering our precious illusions of importance and individuality. AMEN
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
I have preached on the second section of today’s gospel at several funerals, and I entered this week intending to focus on the first section. It felt comforting to plan a sermon about how contrary people are. It also provided scriptural evidence that I will never please everyone, or maybe even anyone, so there is no need to try. If I had to mention the yoke, I could do so in my explanation of the first and second lessons while picturing myself, like Jesus, yoked to people who couldn’t possibly appreciate the treasure that is me.
That didn’t work for a couple of reasons. I am just as liable as anyone to complain instead of listening or to pounce on any opportunity to criticize. More importantly, I’m not Jesus. As I mentioned earlier, our yokes are custom-fitted. That means that any chafing is either because we spend too little time yoked or because we can’t tolerate the idea of being yoked. So what does it mean to be yoked to Jesus?
Most importantly, it means that Jesus shares our burdens. God doesn’t give us a heavy load in order to test us; God doesn’t take away our burdens either. He patiently walks alongside us through both good times and bad. It also means that Jesus sets the pace. Whether we struggle to race ahead or we drag our feet, Jesus’ pace doesn’t vary. I am inclined to believe that he does more of his share of the pulling, but not that he can be rushed. One of the reasons that we are so stressed out and exhausted is that we struggle against the reins instead of settling in and pulling. It is not the work that we have to do that is overwhelming, but the fact that we don’t know where to start. In the same way, Jesus sets the course, or at least the destination. I believe that he waits patiently for us to realize just how near the barn is, and that he rejoices when we kick up our heels and rush headlong toward it.
At the heart of this metaphor is the reliance on action, not words. We are not being called to pass a written test on how to work in tandem with the Lord. Nobody expects a draft animal to comprehend, much less explain, the fundamentals of pulling a load. Finally, each yoke is unique, as is each burden. Our experiences likely do not translate well to others. The only way to appreciate the burdens of others is to walk alongside them -- preferably without giving them advice and instructions. At the end, it is all about surrendering our precious illusions of importance and individuality. AMEN
Pentecost 5: July 2nd
Matthew 10:40-42
Let’s start with a couple of simple words: church and mission. The church is a building. We are in a church. According to scripture, we also are the church. In this sense, the word becomes a bit more difficult to define. In order to do so, it is helpful to look at the next word -- mission. Mission is something done by missionaries and organizations with mission in their name. Kevin Rosendahl is a missionary; his work is his mission. We neatly tie the two words together with our mission statement: working together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond. I’m glad that we took the time to clear that up. Have a nice week. Enjoy your 4th of July.
Well, there might be one small matter left: are we doing it? We have a church. We take excellent care of our church. While we don’t have a detailed missions program, we do support a missionary. We also support a number of organizations by providing them with quilts and a variety of kits that meet specific needs. You could say that we support numerous missionaries, many of which are based in our basements. The work of mission is being done by the few for the many, and that work is benefitting people in our community and beyond.
Does that make us a missional church? It sounds like Jesus is charging us to go thirty or forty steps further -- particularly those of us who aren’t called to drop everything and head overseas to the “mission field” or to gather at the church to quilt or to gather and organize supplies. The rest of us also bear responsibility for the mission of making Jesus known.
Fortunately, Jesus’ instructions on how to make him known to infinity and beyond are quite simple. All that we need to do is to welcome the stranger, care for the sick, and all of that stuff. We also need to let ourselves be cared for. Church is not a building, and it is not just certain people. Church is a community that shares the love of God with each other. AMEN
Matthew 10:40-42
Let’s start with a couple of simple words: church and mission. The church is a building. We are in a church. According to scripture, we also are the church. In this sense, the word becomes a bit more difficult to define. In order to do so, it is helpful to look at the next word -- mission. Mission is something done by missionaries and organizations with mission in their name. Kevin Rosendahl is a missionary; his work is his mission. We neatly tie the two words together with our mission statement: working together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond. I’m glad that we took the time to clear that up. Have a nice week. Enjoy your 4th of July.
Well, there might be one small matter left: are we doing it? We have a church. We take excellent care of our church. While we don’t have a detailed missions program, we do support a missionary. We also support a number of organizations by providing them with quilts and a variety of kits that meet specific needs. You could say that we support numerous missionaries, many of which are based in our basements. The work of mission is being done by the few for the many, and that work is benefitting people in our community and beyond.
Does that make us a missional church? It sounds like Jesus is charging us to go thirty or forty steps further -- particularly those of us who aren’t called to drop everything and head overseas to the “mission field” or to gather at the church to quilt or to gather and organize supplies. The rest of us also bear responsibility for the mission of making Jesus known.
Fortunately, Jesus’ instructions on how to make him known to infinity and beyond are quite simple. All that we need to do is to welcome the stranger, care for the sick, and all of that stuff. We also need to let ourselves be cared for. Church is not a building, and it is not just certain people. Church is a community that shares the love of God with each other. AMEN
Pentecost 4: June 25
Matthew 10:24-39
There are three ideas that jump out from today’s gospel:
The second statement contradicts our image of a God who wants nothing more than for creation to be restored and brought back into a right relationship with him. We have seen time and again the folly of attempting to make peace by waging war. There are many theories on what the sword is supposed to represent. I favor the idea that it represents the work necessary for real, lasting peace. Jesus had no interest in the kind of peace that the religious officials of his time made with Rome, although it made perfect sense by worldly standards that they do whatever it took to keep the Temple open. All that Jesus needed to do to keep his life was to water down his message so that it would stay in the Temple, where it was safe, and to say that Caesar was, at the very least, ruler of the earth.
The peace that God is interested in is preceded by a time of challenge, where we wrestle with our convictions and make decisions about the things that matter in this life. We need the sword to cut away that which is keeping us from those things. It gets really sticky when those things include our families, doesn’t it? But Jesus isn’t saying that we should love our families any less. It makes no sense to try to rank how much we love one person compared to another or to compare our love of God to our love of one another.
The danger is that our love for God may go against the conventional norms of a society that idealizes and even idolizes the family, particularly the nuclear family. While we may firmly believe that a household with two parents, one male and the other female, is the ultimate family configuration, that is not the only possible configuration. For example, cultures that raise their children collaboratively instead of in individual households have a rich history. Jesus’ concern wasn’t with family values in the sense that we might think about them. Those who choose not to get married, those whose marriages end in divorce, and those who struggle to get along with their spouses or children are not excluded from what mattered most to Jesus: Kingdom values.
Finally, there is the idea of finding our lives by losing them. This also is a contrast between kingdom values and worldly values. Along with “successful” marriages and raising “good” kids, we tend to think that finding our place in the world means accumulating both financial and social capital. We want to matter, which means that we want others to respect us and to listen when we speak. We want to be important, whether in the small circle of our family, the slightly larger circle of our congregation, or the wider circles of business and community. Ironically, the more time we spend defining and finding ourselves, the further we get from God. Like the sheep in the judgment parable, we are to give selflessly.
Don’t be afraid. Forget about yourself. Widen your idea of family. Don’t view peace as the absence of conflict, but as the alignment of your life with Kingdom values. You matter because you matter to God. AMEN
Matthew 10:24-39
There are three ideas that jump out from today’s gospel:
- Everyone who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.
- I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.
- Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.
The second statement contradicts our image of a God who wants nothing more than for creation to be restored and brought back into a right relationship with him. We have seen time and again the folly of attempting to make peace by waging war. There are many theories on what the sword is supposed to represent. I favor the idea that it represents the work necessary for real, lasting peace. Jesus had no interest in the kind of peace that the religious officials of his time made with Rome, although it made perfect sense by worldly standards that they do whatever it took to keep the Temple open. All that Jesus needed to do to keep his life was to water down his message so that it would stay in the Temple, where it was safe, and to say that Caesar was, at the very least, ruler of the earth.
The peace that God is interested in is preceded by a time of challenge, where we wrestle with our convictions and make decisions about the things that matter in this life. We need the sword to cut away that which is keeping us from those things. It gets really sticky when those things include our families, doesn’t it? But Jesus isn’t saying that we should love our families any less. It makes no sense to try to rank how much we love one person compared to another or to compare our love of God to our love of one another.
The danger is that our love for God may go against the conventional norms of a society that idealizes and even idolizes the family, particularly the nuclear family. While we may firmly believe that a household with two parents, one male and the other female, is the ultimate family configuration, that is not the only possible configuration. For example, cultures that raise their children collaboratively instead of in individual households have a rich history. Jesus’ concern wasn’t with family values in the sense that we might think about them. Those who choose not to get married, those whose marriages end in divorce, and those who struggle to get along with their spouses or children are not excluded from what mattered most to Jesus: Kingdom values.
Finally, there is the idea of finding our lives by losing them. This also is a contrast between kingdom values and worldly values. Along with “successful” marriages and raising “good” kids, we tend to think that finding our place in the world means accumulating both financial and social capital. We want to matter, which means that we want others to respect us and to listen when we speak. We want to be important, whether in the small circle of our family, the slightly larger circle of our congregation, or the wider circles of business and community. Ironically, the more time we spend defining and finding ourselves, the further we get from God. Like the sheep in the judgment parable, we are to give selflessly.
Don’t be afraid. Forget about yourself. Widen your idea of family. Don’t view peace as the absence of conflict, but as the alignment of your life with Kingdom values. You matter because you matter to God. AMEN
Pentecost 3: June 18, 2023
Do the words “harassed and helpless” speak to you like they speak to me? They seem to be a solid description of our way of life. They are also an invitation. We may not be able to quiet the noise and the forces that bombard us and leave us feeling harassed, but we can become better equipped to shut them out. Even better, there is no reason for us to feel helpless. All that we need to do is to accept Jesus’ help and acknowledge that we are his sheep and he is our shepherd.
Jesus does not, however, invite us to spend our lives inside the fence of his protection. In fact, he sends us out like sheep among wolves. We have no control over how the message is received. At each stop, we are to dwell with those who receive the message and move on from those who do not. The message is not ours, but God’s. We are not responsible for the results of the message, God is. Judgment is also the purview of the Lord. We are like a combine crew, working together to harvest a crop that someone else planted. This means that we are unlikely to see the fruits of our own labors.
The most difficult part of this passage for me is the idea that we go into the mission field unprepared and vulnerable. That doesn’t mean that we are called to rush headlong into dangerous situations, but it does mean that we are not supposed to spend our time planning for every possible threat. We are to earn our keep rather than packing extra supplies, and we aren’t even supposed to plan out what we might say if we are persecuted for sharing the message; Jesus assures us that the Spirit will speak to our oppressors through us.
So where is this mission field? It is all around us. Some are called to go further than others, but we are all called to minister to our neighbors. AMEN
Do the words “harassed and helpless” speak to you like they speak to me? They seem to be a solid description of our way of life. They are also an invitation. We may not be able to quiet the noise and the forces that bombard us and leave us feeling harassed, but we can become better equipped to shut them out. Even better, there is no reason for us to feel helpless. All that we need to do is to accept Jesus’ help and acknowledge that we are his sheep and he is our shepherd.
Jesus does not, however, invite us to spend our lives inside the fence of his protection. In fact, he sends us out like sheep among wolves. We have no control over how the message is received. At each stop, we are to dwell with those who receive the message and move on from those who do not. The message is not ours, but God’s. We are not responsible for the results of the message, God is. Judgment is also the purview of the Lord. We are like a combine crew, working together to harvest a crop that someone else planted. This means that we are unlikely to see the fruits of our own labors.
The most difficult part of this passage for me is the idea that we go into the mission field unprepared and vulnerable. That doesn’t mean that we are called to rush headlong into dangerous situations, but it does mean that we are not supposed to spend our time planning for every possible threat. We are to earn our keep rather than packing extra supplies, and we aren’t even supposed to plan out what we might say if we are persecuted for sharing the message; Jesus assures us that the Spirit will speak to our oppressors through us.
So where is this mission field? It is all around us. Some are called to go further than others, but we are all called to minister to our neighbors. AMEN
Pentecost 2, June 11, 2023 Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
Like the first two readings, the Gospel reading shows the one step forward, two steps back relationship between humanity and God. Jesus tells Matthew, a hated tax collector, “Follow me,” and he does so without question. In fact , the house where Jesus and his disciples eat is filled with a wide variety of sinners. The churchy people are offended, though not enough to confront Jesus directly. They ask the disciples why he eats with the riff-raff. I suppose that they really wonder why he isn’t begging to eat the meat that has been given as sacrifices off of their nice dishes in their lovely homes. Jesus overhears them and gives them homework. They need to figure out what he means when he says “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.”
While Jesus is still speaking, a leader of the synagogue, another churchy person, kneels before Jesus and asks him to raise his daughter from the dead. As they walk, a woman who is disastrously unclean touches the fringe of Jesus’ cloak, believing that it will make her well, and it does. When they arrive at the house, the mourners are in full throat -- weeping and wailing and tearing their clothes as good mourners should. When Jesus sends them away, they laugh. As soon as they leave, Jesus takes the girl’s hand, and she gets up.
The pattern is clear -- it is our need that draws God to us. That might feel backward, considering Hosea’s warnings about what happens if we only turn to God when we are in need, but it makes sense in light of Jesus’ words, “‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” The very worst thing that we can do is to put on a show, to pretend that we have it all figured out and that we are without faults. God knows better. AMEN
Like the first two readings, the Gospel reading shows the one step forward, two steps back relationship between humanity and God. Jesus tells Matthew, a hated tax collector, “Follow me,” and he does so without question. In fact , the house where Jesus and his disciples eat is filled with a wide variety of sinners. The churchy people are offended, though not enough to confront Jesus directly. They ask the disciples why he eats with the riff-raff. I suppose that they really wonder why he isn’t begging to eat the meat that has been given as sacrifices off of their nice dishes in their lovely homes. Jesus overhears them and gives them homework. They need to figure out what he means when he says “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.”
While Jesus is still speaking, a leader of the synagogue, another churchy person, kneels before Jesus and asks him to raise his daughter from the dead. As they walk, a woman who is disastrously unclean touches the fringe of Jesus’ cloak, believing that it will make her well, and it does. When they arrive at the house, the mourners are in full throat -- weeping and wailing and tearing their clothes as good mourners should. When Jesus sends them away, they laugh. As soon as they leave, Jesus takes the girl’s hand, and she gets up.
The pattern is clear -- it is our need that draws God to us. That might feel backward, considering Hosea’s warnings about what happens if we only turn to God when we are in need, but it makes sense in light of Jesus’ words, “‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” The very worst thing that we can do is to put on a show, to pretend that we have it all figured out and that we are without faults. God knows better. AMEN
Pentecost
Midweek Worship: May 24
Numbers 11:24-30, Acts 2:1-21,John 20:19-23
Wouldn’t it be nice if the story of humanity was one of steady improvement? Sure, Adam and Eve sinned and were exiled from the Garden. Ten generations later, the world was so corrupt that all but Noah’s family were eliminated. The rest of the Old Testament is, at best, a mixed bag of faithfulness and unfaithfulness. Through it all, the prophets warned the people that they were going astray and that there would be consequences. They also constantly reminded the people of God’s faithfulness. God has not changed -- God has never wavered from his promise or from the desire that all people be saved and creation restored. Grace is not a New Testament invention. Neither is the presence of the Holy Spirit. The New Covenant sealed with Christ’s blood is God’s covenant in action. With the laws written on their minds and on their hearts, the apostles are sent just as Jesus was sent by the Father. At Pentecost, it is made clear that not only the apostles, but people of all nations are empowered and commissioned as prophets. Logically, this power and this commission extends to us.
If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained. Do you believe that you have that power? Do you want it? If you believe, you will do greater works than Jesus did. How does that strike you? It is tempting to explain these words away -- Jesus must have been exaggerating, right? I know some truly godly people, but I’m not sure how they stack up with Abraham, King David, or Moses -- much less Jesus.
I can only reconcile this by concluding that God wasn’t and isn’t concerned with individual sinners and their salvation. God is not restoring creation one person at a time. Remember that the Apostles were commissioned and the spirit descended on Pentecost to spread the Good News everywhere. Essential to this was the commandment to love one another as Jesus had loved them. If, representing ourselves as Christians, we refuse to forgive others, how can they possibly see a forgiving God through us? If we do not believe that the church is capable of great things, how can it ever fulfill its purpose? The measure of a successful life isn’t whether St. Peter gives you a thumbs up or a thumbs down, it is how you contributed to bringing Christ to others. The church, the communion of saints, the body of Christ, each of us and all of us are called to do nothing short of saving the world. AMEN
Easter 7 “Expectation Sunday”
May 21, 2023
John 17:1-11
Today concludes the “festive” part of the church year that begins with Advent/Christmas and ends with Lent/Easter. Our service at Heritage Hill on Wednesday begins the long, green season of Pentecost or Ordinary Time. Jesus has been born, crucified, and resurrected. The apostles have begun to establish the church, and there is nothing left for us to do but wait for Advent or the second coming of Christ, whichever comes first. Although many of the Epistles show that the early church got restless when Jesus didn’t return as soon as expected, we don’t spend too much time worrying about that these days. At this point in history, we are no longer much surprised that God loved us so much that he sent his son to die for us. Like the seniors fidgeting in their seats during their last week of school, we are confident that we have learned what we needed to in order to get through school. We are ready to leave the world of academics for the “real world” of work and family.
In this state, it would be easy to miss the startling ideas that Jesus shares in the Gospel. Many of us have learned over the years that eternal life is a heavenly afterlife that is given as a reward for subservience to God. In other words, if we can deny the impulses that make us want to do enjoyable things in this life, we will get to live it up in the afterlife. After all, Jesus asked his followers to give away their money and possessions, to deny themselves, even to leave their families to follow him.
John’s Gospel will have none of this theology of grim denial. Here, Jesus describes and exemplifies eternal life as a relationship of love and fellowship, not power and submission. Eternal life isn’t a personal, future reward where some will live forever, while others disappear into a sulfurous pit of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Instead, we are invited into the eternal life of God that stretches infinitely in both directions -- a life that takes place in the here and now as we are embraced in absolute, gratuitous divine love. This life is eternal not because it is exclusive, but because it is a divine love that is freely available to all creatures, without limit and without regard to the creature’s worldly status or situation.
Knowing God is to enter into a relationship of trust and hope, constantly learning and growing in connection with God. When we view church like school -- a place to gather enough facts to be able to claim that we have mastered a subject, we miss the point completely, and we lose out on the joy that God wants for us. Early in John’s gospel, Nicodemus approaches Jesus this way and goes away frustrated. On the other hand, the Samaritan woman at the well, the man born blind, Mary, and Thomas all participate in ongoing relationships and encounters with Jesus. As they talk with Jesus, they understand him more and more to the point where they “know” him and understand that he is the source of their lives and loves them like no other. This leads them to worship him and testify to others about him. This growth in understanding goes hand in hand with repentance. Without it, we simply pivot from sin to remorse back to sin.
Do you know God? Is his law imprinted on your mind and in your heart? My answer: not yet, but I’m trying. I want more than anything to feel the joy of the wedding feast. AMEN
May 21, 2023
John 17:1-11
Today concludes the “festive” part of the church year that begins with Advent/Christmas and ends with Lent/Easter. Our service at Heritage Hill on Wednesday begins the long, green season of Pentecost or Ordinary Time. Jesus has been born, crucified, and resurrected. The apostles have begun to establish the church, and there is nothing left for us to do but wait for Advent or the second coming of Christ, whichever comes first. Although many of the Epistles show that the early church got restless when Jesus didn’t return as soon as expected, we don’t spend too much time worrying about that these days. At this point in history, we are no longer much surprised that God loved us so much that he sent his son to die for us. Like the seniors fidgeting in their seats during their last week of school, we are confident that we have learned what we needed to in order to get through school. We are ready to leave the world of academics for the “real world” of work and family.
In this state, it would be easy to miss the startling ideas that Jesus shares in the Gospel. Many of us have learned over the years that eternal life is a heavenly afterlife that is given as a reward for subservience to God. In other words, if we can deny the impulses that make us want to do enjoyable things in this life, we will get to live it up in the afterlife. After all, Jesus asked his followers to give away their money and possessions, to deny themselves, even to leave their families to follow him.
John’s Gospel will have none of this theology of grim denial. Here, Jesus describes and exemplifies eternal life as a relationship of love and fellowship, not power and submission. Eternal life isn’t a personal, future reward where some will live forever, while others disappear into a sulfurous pit of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Instead, we are invited into the eternal life of God that stretches infinitely in both directions -- a life that takes place in the here and now as we are embraced in absolute, gratuitous divine love. This life is eternal not because it is exclusive, but because it is a divine love that is freely available to all creatures, without limit and without regard to the creature’s worldly status or situation.
Knowing God is to enter into a relationship of trust and hope, constantly learning and growing in connection with God. When we view church like school -- a place to gather enough facts to be able to claim that we have mastered a subject, we miss the point completely, and we lose out on the joy that God wants for us. Early in John’s gospel, Nicodemus approaches Jesus this way and goes away frustrated. On the other hand, the Samaritan woman at the well, the man born blind, Mary, and Thomas all participate in ongoing relationships and encounters with Jesus. As they talk with Jesus, they understand him more and more to the point where they “know” him and understand that he is the source of their lives and loves them like no other. This leads them to worship him and testify to others about him. This growth in understanding goes hand in hand with repentance. Without it, we simply pivot from sin to remorse back to sin.
Do you know God? Is his law imprinted on your mind and in your heart? My answer: not yet, but I’m trying. I want more than anything to feel the joy of the wedding feast. AMEN
Easter 6: May 14
John 14:15-21
Acts 17: 22-31
Even as Jesus finishes the farewell discourse, he knows that even those with whom he has shared the last supper and whose feet he has just washed will struggle to understand who he is and what he is about to do for them. Following Paul’s sermon in Athens, some mocked, others said that they were willing to hear more, and a few joined him and believed. The message of the Gospel has always provoked a wide range of reactions. Remember Jesus’ explanation of the parable of the sower: “When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart. This is what was sown along the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. As for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it. He indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”
The purpose of Jesus’ death and resurrection is to make it possible for all people to be good soil by ushering in the new covenant and sealing it with his blood: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people. And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”
So what keeps us from fully living into the new covenant -- of being in complete harmony with God? In the reading from Acts, Paul points out that God is simultaneously unknowable and knowable. Had he been preaching on Mothers’ Day, Paul might have compared our relationship with God to that of a mother and her child. The child is a part of the mother and the mother is a part of the child. That relationship can be followed forward and backward through the generations. No matter when or where we were born, how we were educated, what we believe, or how we live, we cannot deny our mothers as the source of our lives. Since we are all descended from God, it is undeniable that we are all brothers and sisters.
For some of us, that brings on the warm fuzzies of happiness. We love our mothers and our siblings, and they love us back, forever and ever, amen. The rest of us understand that relationships with close family are often difficult and destructive. Paul’s call for repentance involves acknowledging that, as brothers and sisters in Christ, we are called to love one another -- even if we don’t like each other. Through Christ, God became one of us, and each of us was made in his image. Whenever we look at another person, we are looking at Christ, and, as they say, blood will tell, and Christ’s judgment will be based on Justice.
The Gospel reading begins with the word “if.” ”If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.” Though this might appear to set conditions (keep my commandments and I will send another Advocate) it is another way of explaining our interrelatedness through Christ. If we love someone, it follows that we will do what we can to please them. If they love us, it makes sense that they will do what they can to support us -- even and especially when we need help getting on the right path. The “if” isn’t a condition in the if/then sense. Rather, it is the nature of the human condition. Even when the evidence that we are living in ways that destroy us is overwhelming, we are bound to stubbornly insist that we are fine. Even when we know that those closest to us want what is best for us, we are bound to rebel. All of the variables of the soil in the parable of the sower exist in each of us. That is why repentance isn’t a single act, but the work of a lifetime. AMEN
John 14:15-21
Acts 17: 22-31
Even as Jesus finishes the farewell discourse, he knows that even those with whom he has shared the last supper and whose feet he has just washed will struggle to understand who he is and what he is about to do for them. Following Paul’s sermon in Athens, some mocked, others said that they were willing to hear more, and a few joined him and believed. The message of the Gospel has always provoked a wide range of reactions. Remember Jesus’ explanation of the parable of the sower: “When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart. This is what was sown along the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. As for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it. He indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”
The purpose of Jesus’ death and resurrection is to make it possible for all people to be good soil by ushering in the new covenant and sealing it with his blood: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people. And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”
So what keeps us from fully living into the new covenant -- of being in complete harmony with God? In the reading from Acts, Paul points out that God is simultaneously unknowable and knowable. Had he been preaching on Mothers’ Day, Paul might have compared our relationship with God to that of a mother and her child. The child is a part of the mother and the mother is a part of the child. That relationship can be followed forward and backward through the generations. No matter when or where we were born, how we were educated, what we believe, or how we live, we cannot deny our mothers as the source of our lives. Since we are all descended from God, it is undeniable that we are all brothers and sisters.
For some of us, that brings on the warm fuzzies of happiness. We love our mothers and our siblings, and they love us back, forever and ever, amen. The rest of us understand that relationships with close family are often difficult and destructive. Paul’s call for repentance involves acknowledging that, as brothers and sisters in Christ, we are called to love one another -- even if we don’t like each other. Through Christ, God became one of us, and each of us was made in his image. Whenever we look at another person, we are looking at Christ, and, as they say, blood will tell, and Christ’s judgment will be based on Justice.
The Gospel reading begins with the word “if.” ”If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.” Though this might appear to set conditions (keep my commandments and I will send another Advocate) it is another way of explaining our interrelatedness through Christ. If we love someone, it follows that we will do what we can to please them. If they love us, it makes sense that they will do what they can to support us -- even and especially when we need help getting on the right path. The “if” isn’t a condition in the if/then sense. Rather, it is the nature of the human condition. Even when the evidence that we are living in ways that destroy us is overwhelming, we are bound to stubbornly insist that we are fine. Even when we know that those closest to us want what is best for us, we are bound to rebel. All of the variables of the soil in the parable of the sower exist in each of us. That is why repentance isn’t a single act, but the work of a lifetime. AMEN
Easter 5: May 7
John 14:1-14
The beginning of John 14 is often read at funerals. The message that Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for us and that he will bring us there can be quite reassuring. Building on the theme from the first two readings, it is likely that this house with many rooms is built on a rock, or at least a stone foundation. Another popular funeral reading tells us that there is “a time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together.”
It seems that today is all about stones. Stones were gathered and used to silence Stephen -- an act that makes clear the difference between Paul before and after his conversion. Jesus, the stone that the builders rejected, became the cornerstone of a new world. The change worked in Saul is the transformation made possible for all of creation.
Our relationship with stones is complicated. Anyone who has sworn that they have picked every rock out of a field every year of their life can easily identify with Sisyphus, who was condemned eternally to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back down every time. We might have hearts of stone or rocks in our heads. We may find ourselves being stonewalled or between a rock and a hard place. Things can be set in stone, but you can’t get blood from a stone. The same rocks that have tormented farmers are hauled to the cities and used for landscaping.
I have never understood the line about stones in Ecclesiastes, but today’s readings help to make it more clear. We gather stones together to build foundations, walls, and fences. We are participants in the building of the house with many rooms, called to work together to build homes. We can also see ourselves as the stones that will be used around the cornerstone. It takes many stones and a builder with great skill to make something that fits together well enough to stand the test of time. On the other hand, when we encounter walls that have been built to keep others out, we are called to cast those stones away.
Picture the Word of God as a stone. We can throw it at other people to demonstrate our superiority, we can use it to build walls to keep out the riff-raff, or we can use it as something to hold on to in an uncertain world. AMEN
John 14:1-14
The beginning of John 14 is often read at funerals. The message that Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for us and that he will bring us there can be quite reassuring. Building on the theme from the first two readings, it is likely that this house with many rooms is built on a rock, or at least a stone foundation. Another popular funeral reading tells us that there is “a time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together.”
It seems that today is all about stones. Stones were gathered and used to silence Stephen -- an act that makes clear the difference between Paul before and after his conversion. Jesus, the stone that the builders rejected, became the cornerstone of a new world. The change worked in Saul is the transformation made possible for all of creation.
Our relationship with stones is complicated. Anyone who has sworn that they have picked every rock out of a field every year of their life can easily identify with Sisyphus, who was condemned eternally to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back down every time. We might have hearts of stone or rocks in our heads. We may find ourselves being stonewalled or between a rock and a hard place. Things can be set in stone, but you can’t get blood from a stone. The same rocks that have tormented farmers are hauled to the cities and used for landscaping.
I have never understood the line about stones in Ecclesiastes, but today’s readings help to make it more clear. We gather stones together to build foundations, walls, and fences. We are participants in the building of the house with many rooms, called to work together to build homes. We can also see ourselves as the stones that will be used around the cornerstone. It takes many stones and a builder with great skill to make something that fits together well enough to stand the test of time. On the other hand, when we encounter walls that have been built to keep others out, we are called to cast those stones away.
Picture the Word of God as a stone. We can throw it at other people to demonstrate our superiority, we can use it to build walls to keep out the riff-raff, or we can use it as something to hold on to in an uncertain world. AMEN
Confirmation Sunday: April 30
At the heart of the order of service that we use for confirmation, the affirmation of baptism, is the profession of faith. The profession of faith consists of renouncing the devil three times and then responding to three “do you believe” questions with three sections of the Apostle’s Creed. In the early church, baptism was the culmination of extensive instruction. The candidate for baptism was asked, ‘Do you believe in God the Father Almighty? Do you believe in Jesus Christ, our Savior? Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, a holy church, and the forgiveness of sins? If the candidate answered ‘I believe’ to all three questions, he was baptized, on this confession of faith, in the name of the triune God. (Pannenberg)
Times have changed. Infant baptism has become much more common, and there are fewer rituals and requirements for becoming a member of a church. While the creeds retain their importance as statements of what the church believes, their connection to baptism has diminished. A big part of what we have done in confirmation class involves trying to define faith in general and to make connections between the student and their faith. While we did study the Apostle’s creed, I would venture to guess that none of these young people could go into much detail about what, exactly, it means. Then again, could you? I’m not sure that I could without doing some further research.
While it is missing many of the elements of a creedal statement, the 23rd Psalm makes a tremendously powerful statement of faith. Notice that there are only three “I” statements: I shall not want. I will fear no evil. I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. In fact, the third statement is best viewed as a result of the first two. God does the rest.
My hope for the young people being confirmed (and for all of us) is that we can live by these statements. I shall not want removes the need to compare ourselves and what we have with others. It helps us find balance in a world that revolves around the drive to have more. It reminds us that each of us is a beloved child of God, special in our own right.
I will fear no evil not only reminds us of the ultimate power of God, but also deals with our smaller fears -- fear of embarrassing ourselves, fear of what others think of us, fear of what might happen. Even when we feel overwhelmed, when we find ourselves desperate and despairing, when it seems that we don’t matter, that life is not worth living, God is still watching over us. He has not abandoned us to the Evil One.
Being confirmed likely won’t make you feel any different. It certainly won’t come close to explaining the mysteries of our faith. I pray that it does remind you that God is God and you are not, that God watches over you with love, and that the people in this place are on the journey with you. AMEN
At the heart of the order of service that we use for confirmation, the affirmation of baptism, is the profession of faith. The profession of faith consists of renouncing the devil three times and then responding to three “do you believe” questions with three sections of the Apostle’s Creed. In the early church, baptism was the culmination of extensive instruction. The candidate for baptism was asked, ‘Do you believe in God the Father Almighty? Do you believe in Jesus Christ, our Savior? Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, a holy church, and the forgiveness of sins? If the candidate answered ‘I believe’ to all three questions, he was baptized, on this confession of faith, in the name of the triune God. (Pannenberg)
Times have changed. Infant baptism has become much more common, and there are fewer rituals and requirements for becoming a member of a church. While the creeds retain their importance as statements of what the church believes, their connection to baptism has diminished. A big part of what we have done in confirmation class involves trying to define faith in general and to make connections between the student and their faith. While we did study the Apostle’s creed, I would venture to guess that none of these young people could go into much detail about what, exactly, it means. Then again, could you? I’m not sure that I could without doing some further research.
While it is missing many of the elements of a creedal statement, the 23rd Psalm makes a tremendously powerful statement of faith. Notice that there are only three “I” statements: I shall not want. I will fear no evil. I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. In fact, the third statement is best viewed as a result of the first two. God does the rest.
My hope for the young people being confirmed (and for all of us) is that we can live by these statements. I shall not want removes the need to compare ourselves and what we have with others. It helps us find balance in a world that revolves around the drive to have more. It reminds us that each of us is a beloved child of God, special in our own right.
I will fear no evil not only reminds us of the ultimate power of God, but also deals with our smaller fears -- fear of embarrassing ourselves, fear of what others think of us, fear of what might happen. Even when we feel overwhelmed, when we find ourselves desperate and despairing, when it seems that we don’t matter, that life is not worth living, God is still watching over us. He has not abandoned us to the Evil One.
Being confirmed likely won’t make you feel any different. It certainly won’t come close to explaining the mysteries of our faith. I pray that it does remind you that God is God and you are not, that God watches over you with love, and that the people in this place are on the journey with you. AMEN
The Third Sunday of Easter: April 23, 2023
Although the Road to Emmaus is a popular subject of Christian art, it is not a story that I was very familiar with before I became a pastor. Maybe that is because it only comes up in the lectionary every third year. The story begins, “Now on that same day.” That “same day” is Easter Sunday. In chapter 24, the final chapter of Luke’s gospel, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and an unspecified number of other women go to the tomb with spices. They find the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. When “two men in dazzling clothes” appear, the women fall to the ground in terror. After being reminded of Jesus’ words, the women go back to tell the eleven and the rest what they have seen and heard. All but Peter dismiss their report as an idle tale. Peter runs to the tomb, sticks his head in, sees the empty graveclothes, and goes home, “amazed at what has happened.”
In today’s reading, two of “the rest” have left Jerusalem for Emmaus. While they are still doing their best to make sense of what has happened, they have determined that there is no reason to stay in Jerusalem any longer. They are sad and disappointed: the third day, the day on which Jesus was supposed to be resurrected, had passed without anyone seeing him. Yes, the women had astounded them with the report of the empty tomb and encounter with heavenly messengers, but the disciples who went to investigate had seen the empty tomb but not Jesus. All of the responses of the day, from terrified to amazed to disappointed, give way to hospitality as Jesus explains how the scriptures point to him. They are unwilling to part ways with their companion, even though they do not yet know who he is. Their invitation, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” seems to show that, whether they were conscious of it or not, they saw a glimmer of hope in Jesus. The fact that he breaks the bread at their table reinforces their dawning comprehension, and the familiar ritual of Jesus’ blessing the bread, breaking it, and distributing it removes all doubt. Their eyes are open, Jesus disappears from their sight, and they hurry back to Jerusalem.
When they arrive, they find that the eleven and the others are excitedly discussing the fact that Jesus has also appeared to Simon Peter. Certainly this will be enough to reassure the disciples. However, when Jesus appears among them (yes, this is still Easter Sunday!) they are “startled and terrified” and think that they are seeing a ghost. Jesus then shows them his hands and feet, “Yet for all their joy they were still disbelieving and wondering.” Jesus then asks for and eats some fish in front of them, opens their minds to not only understand how the scriptures have been fulfilled, but also that they have been witnesses to that fulfillment. He then tells them, “I am sending upon you what my Father promised, so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” Finally, he leads them to Bethany, where he blesses them and is carried up into heaven. Easter Sunday and Luke’s gospel end, “And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God.”
Although it is too late to make a long story short, the disciples needed to see the empty tomb, hear their trusted friend’s accounts of seeing the risen Christ, see Jesus and his wounds, and watch him ascend into heaven before they were willing to fully experience the joy of the resurrection. Even then, they were to remain in Jerusalem until they were “clothed with power from on high.” Jesus said, “Blessed are those who have not seen, yet believe.” It is a relief to know how much help he is willing to give us! AMEN
Although the Road to Emmaus is a popular subject of Christian art, it is not a story that I was very familiar with before I became a pastor. Maybe that is because it only comes up in the lectionary every third year. The story begins, “Now on that same day.” That “same day” is Easter Sunday. In chapter 24, the final chapter of Luke’s gospel, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and an unspecified number of other women go to the tomb with spices. They find the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. When “two men in dazzling clothes” appear, the women fall to the ground in terror. After being reminded of Jesus’ words, the women go back to tell the eleven and the rest what they have seen and heard. All but Peter dismiss their report as an idle tale. Peter runs to the tomb, sticks his head in, sees the empty graveclothes, and goes home, “amazed at what has happened.”
In today’s reading, two of “the rest” have left Jerusalem for Emmaus. While they are still doing their best to make sense of what has happened, they have determined that there is no reason to stay in Jerusalem any longer. They are sad and disappointed: the third day, the day on which Jesus was supposed to be resurrected, had passed without anyone seeing him. Yes, the women had astounded them with the report of the empty tomb and encounter with heavenly messengers, but the disciples who went to investigate had seen the empty tomb but not Jesus. All of the responses of the day, from terrified to amazed to disappointed, give way to hospitality as Jesus explains how the scriptures point to him. They are unwilling to part ways with their companion, even though they do not yet know who he is. Their invitation, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” seems to show that, whether they were conscious of it or not, they saw a glimmer of hope in Jesus. The fact that he breaks the bread at their table reinforces their dawning comprehension, and the familiar ritual of Jesus’ blessing the bread, breaking it, and distributing it removes all doubt. Their eyes are open, Jesus disappears from their sight, and they hurry back to Jerusalem.
When they arrive, they find that the eleven and the others are excitedly discussing the fact that Jesus has also appeared to Simon Peter. Certainly this will be enough to reassure the disciples. However, when Jesus appears among them (yes, this is still Easter Sunday!) they are “startled and terrified” and think that they are seeing a ghost. Jesus then shows them his hands and feet, “Yet for all their joy they were still disbelieving and wondering.” Jesus then asks for and eats some fish in front of them, opens their minds to not only understand how the scriptures have been fulfilled, but also that they have been witnesses to that fulfillment. He then tells them, “I am sending upon you what my Father promised, so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” Finally, he leads them to Bethany, where he blesses them and is carried up into heaven. Easter Sunday and Luke’s gospel end, “And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God.”
Although it is too late to make a long story short, the disciples needed to see the empty tomb, hear their trusted friend’s accounts of seeing the risen Christ, see Jesus and his wounds, and watch him ascend into heaven before they were willing to fully experience the joy of the resurrection. Even then, they were to remain in Jerusalem until they were “clothed with power from on high.” Jesus said, “Blessed are those who have not seen, yet believe.” It is a relief to know how much help he is willing to give us! AMEN
Easter 2: April 16
John 20:19-31
In the creation account, each day ends, “And there was evening and there was morning, the ___ day.” John’s account of Easter brings that pattern to mind. In the morning, Mary Magdalene finds the tomb empty and tells Peter and John, who race to the tomb to see for themselves and then return to their homes. Mary returns to the tomb, encounters Jesus, goes back and announces to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.”
When evening comes, the disciples are gathered in the upper room, they are afraid, and the door is locked. The way that John 20 is written, it is unclear which disciples had heard what and from whom. It is also unclear whether they had all been gathered together that morning, but it seems unlikely. We know that Peter and another disciple followed Jesus after his arrest, and John tells us that he was at the cross and that Jesus had given him the responsibility of caring for Jesus’ mother. We don’t know the whereabouts of the remaining disciples between Jesus’ arrest on Thursday evening and Sunday evening, when this reading is set.
Imagine the disciples, returning to the room where Jesus had washed their feet and told them, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer.” Does Mary’s message, “I have seen the Lord,” sound like good news, or is it terrifying? Jesus commanded them to love one another as he had loved them, he had called them friends, and they had been unable to stop the humiliation of Jesus. It was not only Peter who had denied Jesus. Each of them had turned away as Jesus was arrested, beaten, dressed in a purple robe and crown of thorns, and killed. How could they possibly expect mercy from the risen Lord?
Jesus appears, stands among them, and says, “Peace be with you,” but it is not until they see his wounds that the disciples rejoice. When he again says, “Peace be with you,” they are ready to hear it. The disciples can see that Jesus is still with them -- that Jesus understands their fear and their pain. Instead of letting their guilt and fear paralyze them, they are free to share it with Jesus and with each other. It shows us that we don’t need to hide our weaknesses, that suffering is not a sign that God is not with us. Christ’s wounds, retained even after the resurrection, remind us that Jesus didn’t just play at being human for a short time before returning to his rightful glory -- he took on the worst that the world could dish out, and he did it for us because he is our friend, because we are part of his creation, and because, through him, we are good. AMEN
John 20:19-31
In the creation account, each day ends, “And there was evening and there was morning, the ___ day.” John’s account of Easter brings that pattern to mind. In the morning, Mary Magdalene finds the tomb empty and tells Peter and John, who race to the tomb to see for themselves and then return to their homes. Mary returns to the tomb, encounters Jesus, goes back and announces to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.”
When evening comes, the disciples are gathered in the upper room, they are afraid, and the door is locked. The way that John 20 is written, it is unclear which disciples had heard what and from whom. It is also unclear whether they had all been gathered together that morning, but it seems unlikely. We know that Peter and another disciple followed Jesus after his arrest, and John tells us that he was at the cross and that Jesus had given him the responsibility of caring for Jesus’ mother. We don’t know the whereabouts of the remaining disciples between Jesus’ arrest on Thursday evening and Sunday evening, when this reading is set.
Imagine the disciples, returning to the room where Jesus had washed their feet and told them, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer.” Does Mary’s message, “I have seen the Lord,” sound like good news, or is it terrifying? Jesus commanded them to love one another as he had loved them, he had called them friends, and they had been unable to stop the humiliation of Jesus. It was not only Peter who had denied Jesus. Each of them had turned away as Jesus was arrested, beaten, dressed in a purple robe and crown of thorns, and killed. How could they possibly expect mercy from the risen Lord?
Jesus appears, stands among them, and says, “Peace be with you,” but it is not until they see his wounds that the disciples rejoice. When he again says, “Peace be with you,” they are ready to hear it. The disciples can see that Jesus is still with them -- that Jesus understands their fear and their pain. Instead of letting their guilt and fear paralyze them, they are free to share it with Jesus and with each other. It shows us that we don’t need to hide our weaknesses, that suffering is not a sign that God is not with us. Christ’s wounds, retained even after the resurrection, remind us that Jesus didn’t just play at being human for a short time before returning to his rightful glory -- he took on the worst that the world could dish out, and he did it for us because he is our friend, because we are part of his creation, and because, through him, we are good. AMEN
Easter Sunday: April 9, 2023
Matthew 28:1-10
The beginning of Matthew’s gospel revolves around men. An angel visits Joseph; there is no mention of a visit to Mary. Wise men follow a star to Jerusalem, and Herod hatches a plan to kill his potential rival. Twice more, angels visit Joseph, warning him to flee to Egypt and then telling him that it is safe to return. Later, John the Baptist appears in order to launch the ministry of Jesus. Matthew also ends with a focus on men as the 11 remaining disciples are commissioned.
Although Mary is mentioned in passing as the mother of Jesus, she disappears for most of the rest of Matthew’s gospel. What would it take for the women who followed Jesus to get mentioned? As it turns out, an earthquake. At the moment of Jesus’ death, the great curtain of the temple is torn in two, the earth shakes, rocks split, the tombs are opened, and many bodies of the saints are raised. The centurion realizes that Jesus is God’s son, and, oh yeah, “Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee and had provided for him. Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.”
Two of these women, Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary,” most likely the mother of Jesus, quietly take center stage at the resurrection, where they are greeted by another earthquake. They have not gone to the tomb with any specific purpose. They had watched Jesus die, and then watched as his body was put in the tomb and the stone was rolled into place. Perhaps they simply wanted to be as near to Jesus as possible. Maybe they had been paying attention when Jesus told them that he would be raised on the third day. At the very least, they dared to hope. Matthew tells us nothing of the twelve but Judas’s betrayal and Peter’s denial until they meet Jesus in Galilee. It is the women who are greeted by the angel, who see the empty tomb, and who are the first to touch and worship the risen Jesus.
At the beginning of Matthew, the wise men are overwhelmed with joy when they see that the star has stopped. When they see Jesus with Mary, they kneel and worship him. They then walk quietly out of the story. The lesson for us this Easter morning is the need to be open to joy -- the kind of joy that drives us to our knees. AMEN
Matthew 28:1-10
The beginning of Matthew’s gospel revolves around men. An angel visits Joseph; there is no mention of a visit to Mary. Wise men follow a star to Jerusalem, and Herod hatches a plan to kill his potential rival. Twice more, angels visit Joseph, warning him to flee to Egypt and then telling him that it is safe to return. Later, John the Baptist appears in order to launch the ministry of Jesus. Matthew also ends with a focus on men as the 11 remaining disciples are commissioned.
Although Mary is mentioned in passing as the mother of Jesus, she disappears for most of the rest of Matthew’s gospel. What would it take for the women who followed Jesus to get mentioned? As it turns out, an earthquake. At the moment of Jesus’ death, the great curtain of the temple is torn in two, the earth shakes, rocks split, the tombs are opened, and many bodies of the saints are raised. The centurion realizes that Jesus is God’s son, and, oh yeah, “Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee and had provided for him. Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.”
Two of these women, Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary,” most likely the mother of Jesus, quietly take center stage at the resurrection, where they are greeted by another earthquake. They have not gone to the tomb with any specific purpose. They had watched Jesus die, and then watched as his body was put in the tomb and the stone was rolled into place. Perhaps they simply wanted to be as near to Jesus as possible. Maybe they had been paying attention when Jesus told them that he would be raised on the third day. At the very least, they dared to hope. Matthew tells us nothing of the twelve but Judas’s betrayal and Peter’s denial until they meet Jesus in Galilee. It is the women who are greeted by the angel, who see the empty tomb, and who are the first to touch and worship the risen Jesus.
At the beginning of Matthew, the wise men are overwhelmed with joy when they see that the star has stopped. When they see Jesus with Mary, they kneel and worship him. They then walk quietly out of the story. The lesson for us this Easter morning is the need to be open to joy -- the kind of joy that drives us to our knees. AMEN
Palm Sunday: Matthew 21-1-17
Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem brings together diverse groups.“‘The crowd’ are Jesus' own band of followers who have been on the road with him all the way back to Galilee, together with those they have picked up along the way.” (Kirby) The people of Jerusalem, confused by this ragtag procession, ask “who is this guy?” The third group, the chief priests and the scribes, are well aware of Jesus’ reputation as a troublemaker who is undermining their authority. We should not forget that they did have authority -- especially the authority to interpret God’s activity. Soon, another group forms, a group shouting, “Crucify Him!”
Time and distance give us the luxury of organizing the scene and labeling the good guys and the bad guys -- to convince ourselves that we would have seen through the confusion and focused on the truth of Jesus. On the ground, that proved to be impossible. Those who had traveled with Jesus likely felt that it was obvious that Jesus was the Messiah. They would have been surprised to be met, not by people eager to receive their king, but by blank looks and confusion. Even if the ordinary people of Jerusalem couldn’t see the truth, surely the religious leaders would. If fishermen, tax collectors, and a collection of the healed, the redeemed, and the fed could figure it out, those who truly understood the words of the prophets would make the connection instantly.
Instead, they enter a Jerusalem like the one that the Wise Men entered -- a city where not only Herod, but all of Jerusalem is troubled by the news that their king has been born. The whole city is shaken again as the adult Jesus enters in royal procession. The word used to describe the turmoil in Jerusalem is the same word used for the shaking of the earth when Jesus breathes his last, and for the quaking of the guards at the tomb when they behold an angel of the Lord. The word names the action of an earthquake.
Imagine being in an area where an earthquake has caused destruction and the aftershocks continue. People are confused and afraid. Will sharing your understanding of plate tectonics bring them comfort? Will it help you to know that if you are buried in debris, it won’t be because you made God mad? As we enter Holy Week 2023, the confusion continues. We can lay down our palms and join those celebrating the decline of the church, we can run away, or we can come to understand that the parade isn’t about us, but the One we have come to know and who has changed our lives along the way, Jesus. AMEN
Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem brings together diverse groups.“‘The crowd’ are Jesus' own band of followers who have been on the road with him all the way back to Galilee, together with those they have picked up along the way.” (Kirby) The people of Jerusalem, confused by this ragtag procession, ask “who is this guy?” The third group, the chief priests and the scribes, are well aware of Jesus’ reputation as a troublemaker who is undermining their authority. We should not forget that they did have authority -- especially the authority to interpret God’s activity. Soon, another group forms, a group shouting, “Crucify Him!”
Time and distance give us the luxury of organizing the scene and labeling the good guys and the bad guys -- to convince ourselves that we would have seen through the confusion and focused on the truth of Jesus. On the ground, that proved to be impossible. Those who had traveled with Jesus likely felt that it was obvious that Jesus was the Messiah. They would have been surprised to be met, not by people eager to receive their king, but by blank looks and confusion. Even if the ordinary people of Jerusalem couldn’t see the truth, surely the religious leaders would. If fishermen, tax collectors, and a collection of the healed, the redeemed, and the fed could figure it out, those who truly understood the words of the prophets would make the connection instantly.
Instead, they enter a Jerusalem like the one that the Wise Men entered -- a city where not only Herod, but all of Jerusalem is troubled by the news that their king has been born. The whole city is shaken again as the adult Jesus enters in royal procession. The word used to describe the turmoil in Jerusalem is the same word used for the shaking of the earth when Jesus breathes his last, and for the quaking of the guards at the tomb when they behold an angel of the Lord. The word names the action of an earthquake.
Imagine being in an area where an earthquake has caused destruction and the aftershocks continue. People are confused and afraid. Will sharing your understanding of plate tectonics bring them comfort? Will it help you to know that if you are buried in debris, it won’t be because you made God mad? As we enter Holy Week 2023, the confusion continues. We can lay down our palms and join those celebrating the decline of the church, we can run away, or we can come to understand that the parade isn’t about us, but the One we have come to know and who has changed our lives along the way, Jesus. AMEN
Lent 5:March 26, 2023
John 11:17-45 and Ezekiel 37:1-14
Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. These are the words that you shall speak to the people of Israel. Exodus 19:5-6
The book of Ezekiel begins with repeated reminders that if the covenant is not kept, the people will be punished. The people don’t listen, Judah is conquered, and everything that assured them of God’s promise, the land, the temple, the monarchy, is gone. Even the restoration of the bones of all of Israel to living, breathing bodies brings no joy -- no hope: “They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’’ (Ezekiel 37:11).
Ezekiel’s job as prophet has changed from warning the people of the consequences of their disobedience to helping them to hear God’s renewed promise: “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you, and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances. Then you shall live in the land that I gave to your ancestors, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God.” (Ezekiel 36:26-29).
Even in her sorrow, Martha has retained hope: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” so she is able to hear Jesus’ promise: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” That does not mean that everyone is ready to see and believe. While some are moved by Jesus’ love for Lazarus, others still wonder why he didn’t keep Lazarus from dying. More importantly, while some who were there believe, others go to the Pharisees to tell them what Jesus has done.
Both of these readings leave us at a familiar place: our inability to see, hear, and understand God’s promise to us. Perhaps the best that we can do is to say, I believe. Lord, help my unbelief. AMEN
John 11:17-45 and Ezekiel 37:1-14
Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. These are the words that you shall speak to the people of Israel. Exodus 19:5-6
The book of Ezekiel begins with repeated reminders that if the covenant is not kept, the people will be punished. The people don’t listen, Judah is conquered, and everything that assured them of God’s promise, the land, the temple, the monarchy, is gone. Even the restoration of the bones of all of Israel to living, breathing bodies brings no joy -- no hope: “They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’’ (Ezekiel 37:11).
Ezekiel’s job as prophet has changed from warning the people of the consequences of their disobedience to helping them to hear God’s renewed promise: “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you, and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances. Then you shall live in the land that I gave to your ancestors, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God.” (Ezekiel 36:26-29).
Even in her sorrow, Martha has retained hope: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” so she is able to hear Jesus’ promise: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” That does not mean that everyone is ready to see and believe. While some are moved by Jesus’ love for Lazarus, others still wonder why he didn’t keep Lazarus from dying. More importantly, while some who were there believe, others go to the Pharisees to tell them what Jesus has done.
Both of these readings leave us at a familiar place: our inability to see, hear, and understand God’s promise to us. Perhaps the best that we can do is to say, I believe. Lord, help my unbelief. AMEN
Lent 4: March 19, 2023
John 9:1-41
It seems ironic that, although Jesus says that the man was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed through him, the remainder of the story consists of a series of stubborn refusals to see Jesus for who he truly is. When Jesus wraps up the story by saying, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” and telling the Pharisees that their blindness is the result of their seeing. When Jesus is explaining to the disciples why he teaches in parables in Matthew 13: 11-13, he tells them:
“To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance, but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. The reason I speak to them in parables is that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.”
Just as hearing is different from listening, blindness is different from an inability to see. Jesus is not concerned with the keenness of the senses, but the attention given to what is seen and heard. I recently heard a woman describe how she had bartended at a club where her future husband’s band played for quite some time before, one night, he “saw her,” and the pursuit was on. This is what happens to the man born blind; he quickly progresses from describing Jesus as a man, to a prophet, to the Son of God.
Lent is based on the process by which the early church prepared converts for baptism. The story of the man born blind is included in our readings as an illustration of how baptism works. He is able to see largely because he hasn’t obscured his senses with conflicting beliefs that dissuade him from accepting the evidence of God’s work in his life. We are left with the question, what mud needs to be washed out of our eyes? AMEN
Lent 3: March 12
John 4:5-42
Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he? They left the city and were on their way to him John 4:28-30
The decisive moment in the story of the Samaritan woman at the well begins when Jesus asks the woman to go get her husband. It is typical for today’s reader to see this as a moment of shame: the woman has had five husbands and is currently living with a man who is not her husband. Her amazement that Jesus has known this all along yet chooses to speak to her drives her to town where she shares her story with everyone. Apparently, the people are so impressed that Jesus has taken the time to speak with this wretched woman motivates them to go find out more. This reading of the story is problematic and harmful for many reasons.
Considering that a woman in Jesus’ time couldn’t initiate a divorce, it is more likely that this woman has had a series of husbands either die or cast her out. It is not her sinfulness that troubles her, but the lack of meaningful connections in her life. If people see her at all, they likely pity her. She must be waiting for her latest man to either kick off or kick her out. It is highly unlikely that she has any children. Jesus isn’t speaking to her in spite of what is wrong with her, he is meeting her where she is broken. The townspeople must notice the change immediately. I imagine that the woman who previously moved quietly and with her head lowered entered the city with her head held high, her eyes blazing, and her voice ringing out. They had no choice but to go see what was behind this transformation.
They must have liked what they saw, because many believed, and they asked Jesus to stay with them. After two days, many more believed because they had heard the good news for themselves. Meanwhile, the disciples seem to miss the point as they focus only on Jesus’ physical needs (notice that Jesus, who stopped because he was thirsty, never does get a drink). Even so, this shortcut through Samaria must have been taken as a part of their education. Jesus has again brought someone from the margins into the center of the story. They return to Galilee with the words “we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.” fresh in their minds.
As we continue our Lenten journey, remember that Jesus meets us where we are, no matter what. He isn’t waiting for us to clean up our acts or to become more worthy of his attention. We already have his full attention. God doesn’t love us in spite of our many faults -- we are beloved, warts and all. That is the message that we are called to share. AMEN
John 4:5-42
Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he? They left the city and were on their way to him John 4:28-30
The decisive moment in the story of the Samaritan woman at the well begins when Jesus asks the woman to go get her husband. It is typical for today’s reader to see this as a moment of shame: the woman has had five husbands and is currently living with a man who is not her husband. Her amazement that Jesus has known this all along yet chooses to speak to her drives her to town where she shares her story with everyone. Apparently, the people are so impressed that Jesus has taken the time to speak with this wretched woman motivates them to go find out more. This reading of the story is problematic and harmful for many reasons.
Considering that a woman in Jesus’ time couldn’t initiate a divorce, it is more likely that this woman has had a series of husbands either die or cast her out. It is not her sinfulness that troubles her, but the lack of meaningful connections in her life. If people see her at all, they likely pity her. She must be waiting for her latest man to either kick off or kick her out. It is highly unlikely that she has any children. Jesus isn’t speaking to her in spite of what is wrong with her, he is meeting her where she is broken. The townspeople must notice the change immediately. I imagine that the woman who previously moved quietly and with her head lowered entered the city with her head held high, her eyes blazing, and her voice ringing out. They had no choice but to go see what was behind this transformation.
They must have liked what they saw, because many believed, and they asked Jesus to stay with them. After two days, many more believed because they had heard the good news for themselves. Meanwhile, the disciples seem to miss the point as they focus only on Jesus’ physical needs (notice that Jesus, who stopped because he was thirsty, never does get a drink). Even so, this shortcut through Samaria must have been taken as a part of their education. Jesus has again brought someone from the margins into the center of the story. They return to Galilee with the words “we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.” fresh in their minds.
As we continue our Lenten journey, remember that Jesus meets us where we are, no matter what. He isn’t waiting for us to clean up our acts or to become more worthy of his attention. We already have his full attention. God doesn’t love us in spite of our many faults -- we are beloved, warts and all. That is the message that we are called to share. AMEN
Lent 2: March 5, 2023
John 3:1-17 (18-21)
I extended the gospel reading to reinforce the fact that John does not say that the death and resurrection of Jesus resulted in salvation for everyone. John has already made that clear in his prologue: “ He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.” So we have the language of receiving and believing.
Some translations of John 3:16 replace the word “believe” with “has trust in,” “has faith in,” or “puts his trust in.” Others keep “ believe” and add, “trusts in, clings to”, and, “relies on.” Buechner states that the Greek should properly be translated, “whoever believes into God.” Since we don’t usually use that language, he suggests that “believing” and “believing in” God are two different things. The reading from Romans says that Abram believed God -- that he trusted God in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary. Believing in God, according to Buechner, “is an intellectual position that need not have any more effect on your life than believing that the earth is round. Believing God is something else again -- less a position than a journey -- less a position than a relationship. It doesn’t leave you cold like believing that the world is round. It stirs your blood like believing the world is a miracle. It affects who you are and what you do with your life like believing your house is on fire or somebody loves you. When Jesus says that whoever believes “into” him shall never die, he does not mean that to be willing to sign your name to the Nicene Creed guarantees eternal life. Eternal life is not the result of believing in. It is the experience of believing.”
Notice that believing God and believing into Jesus involve transformation, not just information. Barclay says that “It is easy to discuss the intellectual truth of Christianity, but the essential thing is to experience the power of Christianity. It is fatally easy to start at the wrong end.” The difficulty is that our experiences of the power of Christianity, the work of the Spirit, are impossible to describe because we are incapable of understanding them. We can, however, see the results. “We must lean into the wind of the Spirit as the Spirit blows, even if we do not understand it, cannot explain or justify it, or are wont to accept it for ourselves or others.”
We call this leaning in “faith.” According to Willimon, “Faith happens when reality, first experienced as mundane and speechless, overflows, so that we hear something and exclaim, “I believe.” Better than some innate human yearning, faith is our reasonable response to an occurrence that has happened to us, named Jesus Christ. More than intellectual assent, the Christian faith is about walking with Christ even when you aren’t sure where he’s taking you. Being faithful more than having faith. Faith arises when we begin to trust Jesus more than ourselves.”
Condemnation is not the purpose of Christ’s coming. It is also not God’s last word on humanity. The light not only exposes the sin of the world, it also deals with it. God’s love encompasses all of his creation,
even those who “love darkness rather than light.” God’s ultimate aim is for all humanity to be drawn to Jesus. This happens when our attention is drawn from ourselves to the world that God loves. As our commitment to all of God’s creation deepens, we can begin to see all people in the light of God’s love. AMEN
John 3:1-17 (18-21)
I extended the gospel reading to reinforce the fact that John does not say that the death and resurrection of Jesus resulted in salvation for everyone. John has already made that clear in his prologue: “ He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.” So we have the language of receiving and believing.
Some translations of John 3:16 replace the word “believe” with “has trust in,” “has faith in,” or “puts his trust in.” Others keep “ believe” and add, “trusts in, clings to”, and, “relies on.” Buechner states that the Greek should properly be translated, “whoever believes into God.” Since we don’t usually use that language, he suggests that “believing” and “believing in” God are two different things. The reading from Romans says that Abram believed God -- that he trusted God in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary. Believing in God, according to Buechner, “is an intellectual position that need not have any more effect on your life than believing that the earth is round. Believing God is something else again -- less a position than a journey -- less a position than a relationship. It doesn’t leave you cold like believing that the world is round. It stirs your blood like believing the world is a miracle. It affects who you are and what you do with your life like believing your house is on fire or somebody loves you. When Jesus says that whoever believes “into” him shall never die, he does not mean that to be willing to sign your name to the Nicene Creed guarantees eternal life. Eternal life is not the result of believing in. It is the experience of believing.”
Notice that believing God and believing into Jesus involve transformation, not just information. Barclay says that “It is easy to discuss the intellectual truth of Christianity, but the essential thing is to experience the power of Christianity. It is fatally easy to start at the wrong end.” The difficulty is that our experiences of the power of Christianity, the work of the Spirit, are impossible to describe because we are incapable of understanding them. We can, however, see the results. “We must lean into the wind of the Spirit as the Spirit blows, even if we do not understand it, cannot explain or justify it, or are wont to accept it for ourselves or others.”
We call this leaning in “faith.” According to Willimon, “Faith happens when reality, first experienced as mundane and speechless, overflows, so that we hear something and exclaim, “I believe.” Better than some innate human yearning, faith is our reasonable response to an occurrence that has happened to us, named Jesus Christ. More than intellectual assent, the Christian faith is about walking with Christ even when you aren’t sure where he’s taking you. Being faithful more than having faith. Faith arises when we begin to trust Jesus more than ourselves.”
Condemnation is not the purpose of Christ’s coming. It is also not God’s last word on humanity. The light not only exposes the sin of the world, it also deals with it. God’s love encompasses all of his creation,
even those who “love darkness rather than light.” God’s ultimate aim is for all humanity to be drawn to Jesus. This happens when our attention is drawn from ourselves to the world that God loves. As our commitment to all of God’s creation deepens, we can begin to see all people in the light of God’s love. AMEN
Lent One: February 26
Today’s readings set the tone for Lent. We are reminded that we are a part of God’s good creation, that humanity almost immediately succumbed to temptation, and that Jesus’ obedience has made us righteous. Setting Satan’s snarky challenge, “IF you are the Son of God,” next to God’s declaration that Jesus is his son makes it possible to look past who Jesus is and to instead focus on what that means. In the same way, we can use the season of Lent to ask ourselves, if we believe that we are children of God, how will we choose to live -- who will we be?
We can all think of examples of heirs who failed to live up to their promise; people who were stunted instead of nurtured by privilege. Whether we view Jesus’ temptation as internal or external, it makes sense that he would be measuring himself against his status as the Son of God. How would he use his power? The three temptations give a template for the kind of struggles that Jesus would face throughout his ministry. Facing them did not make them go away, but they strengthened him and enabled him to better face them. Jesus answered the question of how he would use his power by only using it in regards to spirits and demons.
But, of course, we are not like Jesus; we are like Adam and Eve, and we will remain so until the very end. It helps a bit to understand that even Jesus never reached a point where he was immune to temptation. It may help even more to focus on two things from Christ’s temptation. First, Jesus refused to narrow his understanding of God’s word so that it became a litmus test for faith. Instead, his replies reflected an understanding of the nature of God: we are to worship only God, we are nourished by the Word of God, and we are not to put God to the test. How often do we test God by believing that we are not blessed simply because life finds us one-among-six-billion-others, struggling, and seemingly not special in any way, by taking credit for our moments of happiness and blaming God for our heartache? Along with our need for immediate gratification, this can leave us a picture of God as only our rescuer and fixer, whose cosmic job it is to make our lives better so that we can feel loved (or happy).
This is where the second lesson from Christ’s temptation comes in. The Holy Spirit’s push into the wilderness began with Jesus fasting for forty days and forty nights (Biblically, a long time -- as long as it takes). “This was a time of communion with God in the setting of hardship, where things are stripped away and what is important becomes clear -- a time of simplicity, silence, and prayer.” While even the devil can proof-text, “Jesus’ time in the wilderness made the Word of God experiential wisdom that would guide him and carry him forward.” Throughout his ministry, Jesus continued to withdraw to the wilderness for these times of solitude.
And there is our lesson for Lent. It is essential that we carve out the time to discern what it means to be Children of God, to deepen our connection to God, and to allow ourselves to feel the presence of God. While we catch glimpses of God’s work in our day-to-day lives and in worship, sustaining faith involves time spent being silent and knowing that God is God and that we are not. AMEN
Today’s readings set the tone for Lent. We are reminded that we are a part of God’s good creation, that humanity almost immediately succumbed to temptation, and that Jesus’ obedience has made us righteous. Setting Satan’s snarky challenge, “IF you are the Son of God,” next to God’s declaration that Jesus is his son makes it possible to look past who Jesus is and to instead focus on what that means. In the same way, we can use the season of Lent to ask ourselves, if we believe that we are children of God, how will we choose to live -- who will we be?
We can all think of examples of heirs who failed to live up to their promise; people who were stunted instead of nurtured by privilege. Whether we view Jesus’ temptation as internal or external, it makes sense that he would be measuring himself against his status as the Son of God. How would he use his power? The three temptations give a template for the kind of struggles that Jesus would face throughout his ministry. Facing them did not make them go away, but they strengthened him and enabled him to better face them. Jesus answered the question of how he would use his power by only using it in regards to spirits and demons.
But, of course, we are not like Jesus; we are like Adam and Eve, and we will remain so until the very end. It helps a bit to understand that even Jesus never reached a point where he was immune to temptation. It may help even more to focus on two things from Christ’s temptation. First, Jesus refused to narrow his understanding of God’s word so that it became a litmus test for faith. Instead, his replies reflected an understanding of the nature of God: we are to worship only God, we are nourished by the Word of God, and we are not to put God to the test. How often do we test God by believing that we are not blessed simply because life finds us one-among-six-billion-others, struggling, and seemingly not special in any way, by taking credit for our moments of happiness and blaming God for our heartache? Along with our need for immediate gratification, this can leave us a picture of God as only our rescuer and fixer, whose cosmic job it is to make our lives better so that we can feel loved (or happy).
This is where the second lesson from Christ’s temptation comes in. The Holy Spirit’s push into the wilderness began with Jesus fasting for forty days and forty nights (Biblically, a long time -- as long as it takes). “This was a time of communion with God in the setting of hardship, where things are stripped away and what is important becomes clear -- a time of simplicity, silence, and prayer.” While even the devil can proof-text, “Jesus’ time in the wilderness made the Word of God experiential wisdom that would guide him and carry him forward.” Throughout his ministry, Jesus continued to withdraw to the wilderness for these times of solitude.
And there is our lesson for Lent. It is essential that we carve out the time to discern what it means to be Children of God, to deepen our connection to God, and to allow ourselves to feel the presence of God. While we catch glimpses of God’s work in our day-to-day lives and in worship, sustaining faith involves time spent being silent and knowing that God is God and that we are not. AMEN
Transfiguration Sunday: February 19, 2023
Jesus led the disciples up the mountain to see what they could see. He did not bring them all -- just the “executive committee,” Peter, James, and John. The time for teaching was almost over; Jesus was preparing to lead the disciples to Jerusalem and his death. In this moment, as Jesus prepares to turn toward his death, he teaches them a lesson in faith. Accepting things that we cannot understand is essential to faith, and there could be no greater authority on the mind of God than Jesus, but Jesus doesn’t ask the disciples to take his word as proof that he is the Son of God and that he must suffer and die. He also doesn’t separate them from the group and bring them to an isolated location simply so his words will carry more weight.
We have no way of knowing what the disciples were thinking as they climbed the mountain or even how difficult the climb was. Were they thinking of other climbs with Jesus? Did they remind themselves that fishermen were rarely asked to climb mountains? Did they wish that they had better shoes? Did they visit amongst themselves? Did Jesus talk to them as they climbed? If a mountain is a metaphor, can it still be difficult and dangerous to climb it? Let’s take a moment to imagine the climb and then to picture ourselves at the end of the climb -- catching our breath and taking a look around. Matthew takes no such pause; there is not so much as a gently stirring breeze before Jesus’ face begins to shine like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. If that is not enough, Moses and Elijah appear and begin talking with Jesus. It is amazing that Peter is even able to find his voice, much less approach this group. The appearance of God in a cloud is simply more than the disciples can bear, and they fall to the ground in terror.
Jesus’ touch empowers them to raise their heads to find themselves alone with Jesus, who commands them to tell no one of what they have seen until he has been raised by the dead. Let’s imagine that Jesus had asked them “what did you learn from this experience?” If they had missed the Moses connection earlier, the disciples must have realized that Jesus, like God, was the source of a light too great to be contained -- a light so powerful that even passing it from person to person over thousands of years could not dim it. The presence of Moses, the lawgiver and Elijah, the greatest of the prophets showed them that Jesus was indeed the fulfillment and the uniting of the law and the prophets. The voice and words of God move the covenant forward -- the same God who created the world, led the people out of Israel, and fed Elijah in the wilderness abides with them still. Most importantly, they learned that God cannot be explained, only experienced. AMEN
Jesus led the disciples up the mountain to see what they could see. He did not bring them all -- just the “executive committee,” Peter, James, and John. The time for teaching was almost over; Jesus was preparing to lead the disciples to Jerusalem and his death. In this moment, as Jesus prepares to turn toward his death, he teaches them a lesson in faith. Accepting things that we cannot understand is essential to faith, and there could be no greater authority on the mind of God than Jesus, but Jesus doesn’t ask the disciples to take his word as proof that he is the Son of God and that he must suffer and die. He also doesn’t separate them from the group and bring them to an isolated location simply so his words will carry more weight.
We have no way of knowing what the disciples were thinking as they climbed the mountain or even how difficult the climb was. Were they thinking of other climbs with Jesus? Did they remind themselves that fishermen were rarely asked to climb mountains? Did they wish that they had better shoes? Did they visit amongst themselves? Did Jesus talk to them as they climbed? If a mountain is a metaphor, can it still be difficult and dangerous to climb it? Let’s take a moment to imagine the climb and then to picture ourselves at the end of the climb -- catching our breath and taking a look around. Matthew takes no such pause; there is not so much as a gently stirring breeze before Jesus’ face begins to shine like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. If that is not enough, Moses and Elijah appear and begin talking with Jesus. It is amazing that Peter is even able to find his voice, much less approach this group. The appearance of God in a cloud is simply more than the disciples can bear, and they fall to the ground in terror.
Jesus’ touch empowers them to raise their heads to find themselves alone with Jesus, who commands them to tell no one of what they have seen until he has been raised by the dead. Let’s imagine that Jesus had asked them “what did you learn from this experience?” If they had missed the Moses connection earlier, the disciples must have realized that Jesus, like God, was the source of a light too great to be contained -- a light so powerful that even passing it from person to person over thousands of years could not dim it. The presence of Moses, the lawgiver and Elijah, the greatest of the prophets showed them that Jesus was indeed the fulfillment and the uniting of the law and the prophets. The voice and words of God move the covenant forward -- the same God who created the world, led the people out of Israel, and fed Elijah in the wilderness abides with them still. Most importantly, they learned that God cannot be explained, only experienced. AMEN
Epiphany 6: February 12, 2023
Today I will once again say, “This is the new covenant in my blood, shed for you and for all people for the forgiveness of sin.” This is the moment that all of scripture, all of creation, has been moving toward. The Bible is the story of the relationship between God and God’s people, and covenants are what hold it together. A covenant is a type of partnership agreement that goes beyond defining which partners are responsible for what; it is personal and relational. Marriage vows are a kind of covenant in that both parties agree to bind themselves to one another in lifelong faithfulness and devotion. There are a number of covenants in the Old Testament -- some between God and individuals (like Abraham) and others between God and all of humanity (like the promise after the flood). Today’s readings bump up against the covenants in numerous ways.
God’s covenant with Moses is bounded by the Ten Commandments. As the first reading says, following the commandments leads to life and prosperity, but turning away results in adversity and death. The choice was made before the commandments even made it down the mountain as the people created and worshiped a golden calf. God’s covenant with King David relates because God promises that a descendant of David will be a king whose reign will last forever. Even though David and his descendants failed to follow the covenantal laws and remain faithful to God, God kept his promise with the birth of Jesus.
Last week’s gospel began with Jesus saying, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” Covenant is what connects the Law and the Prophets. The prophets repeatedly point out the faithfulness of God and the lack of faithfulness of the people. It often seems that their message is that even God can only take so much -- that the people are responsible for their own misery. Suffering people don’t appreciate reminders that they have brought suffering upon themselves, and pointing out the obvious doesn’t make one a prophet. What does mark a prophet is the message of hope founded in God’s adherence to past covenants and promise of even better things to come in spite of the fact that people are unlikely to get much better at following the law. The best example comes from Jeremiah:
The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt—a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord, for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more.
This covenant does not abolish the law or the prophets -- it unites them. The law still matters, but it is no longer a boundary; it has become a vision of what humanity can become in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary.
Jesus reinforces this by first making sure that we understand that we cannot possibly keep any of the commandments all of the time because we are all human. If this makes us think that this gives us an excuse to disregard God’s law altogether, we need to check our understanding of God. Can we really imagine a God who makes laws and who makes people incapable of following them and then punishes them?
Instead the law gives us freedom from feeling unworthy every time that we are imperfect. Better yet, it gives us freedom to enjoy those moments when we surprise ourselves by rising to the occasion and managing to love, forgive, and live a better life than we ever imagined we could. AMEN
Today I will once again say, “This is the new covenant in my blood, shed for you and for all people for the forgiveness of sin.” This is the moment that all of scripture, all of creation, has been moving toward. The Bible is the story of the relationship between God and God’s people, and covenants are what hold it together. A covenant is a type of partnership agreement that goes beyond defining which partners are responsible for what; it is personal and relational. Marriage vows are a kind of covenant in that both parties agree to bind themselves to one another in lifelong faithfulness and devotion. There are a number of covenants in the Old Testament -- some between God and individuals (like Abraham) and others between God and all of humanity (like the promise after the flood). Today’s readings bump up against the covenants in numerous ways.
God’s covenant with Moses is bounded by the Ten Commandments. As the first reading says, following the commandments leads to life and prosperity, but turning away results in adversity and death. The choice was made before the commandments even made it down the mountain as the people created and worshiped a golden calf. God’s covenant with King David relates because God promises that a descendant of David will be a king whose reign will last forever. Even though David and his descendants failed to follow the covenantal laws and remain faithful to God, God kept his promise with the birth of Jesus.
Last week’s gospel began with Jesus saying, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” Covenant is what connects the Law and the Prophets. The prophets repeatedly point out the faithfulness of God and the lack of faithfulness of the people. It often seems that their message is that even God can only take so much -- that the people are responsible for their own misery. Suffering people don’t appreciate reminders that they have brought suffering upon themselves, and pointing out the obvious doesn’t make one a prophet. What does mark a prophet is the message of hope founded in God’s adherence to past covenants and promise of even better things to come in spite of the fact that people are unlikely to get much better at following the law. The best example comes from Jeremiah:
The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt—a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord, for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more.
This covenant does not abolish the law or the prophets -- it unites them. The law still matters, but it is no longer a boundary; it has become a vision of what humanity can become in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary.
Jesus reinforces this by first making sure that we understand that we cannot possibly keep any of the commandments all of the time because we are all human. If this makes us think that this gives us an excuse to disregard God’s law altogether, we need to check our understanding of God. Can we really imagine a God who makes laws and who makes people incapable of following them and then punishes them?
Instead the law gives us freedom from feeling unworthy every time that we are imperfect. Better yet, it gives us freedom to enjoy those moments when we surprise ourselves by rising to the occasion and managing to love, forgive, and live a better life than we ever imagined we could. AMEN
Epiphany 4: January 29
Micah is one of the minor prophets whose words make up the last section of the Old Testament. Micah was a contemporary of Isaiah, and, like many of the prophets, his message revolves around the Babylonian Exile -- especially how God could allow it to happen while still being faithful to his people. Not much is known about Micah other than that he came from a small town and that his name means “Who is like Yahweh?” Besides the fact that Micah was a rural prophet who went to Jerusalem to share his indignation with the rich and powerful, I am drawn to his graphic language. After laying out the destruction to come and the reasons for it, Micah says: “Therefore I will wail and howl, I will go stripped and naked: I will make a wailing like the dragons, and mourning as the owls.” He goes on to say: “Hear, I pray you, O heads of Jacob, and ye princes of the house of Israel; Is it not for you to know judgment? Who hate the good, and love the evil; who pluck off their skin from off them, and their flesh from off their bones;
Who also eat the flesh of my people, and flay their skin from off them; and they break their bones, and chop them in pieces, as for the pot, and as flesh within the caldron.”
Today’s reading is a sort of courtroom drama. Instead of accusations (which are unnecessary because the sins of the people are so obvious), God presents a list of the many things that he has done for the people. Micah’s response shows his disdain for the hypocrisy of the church and its leaders. If God is displeased because their worship is a display of false piety, perhaps the answer is a bigger display of false piety -- thousands of sheep, rivers of oil, even human sacrifice should be enough to do the trick. Apparently anything short of actually doing what God says is on the table.
The last verse is a real wall-hanger: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” The danger then as now is that we latch onto the verbs-- we must do, love, and walk. Faith is all about action. Unfortunately, that isn’t the recipe either. We are still supposed to worship, but our worship needs to be authentic. Instead of being extravagant and fancy, worship is about building community with and around the Word of God. Doing justice means participating in the process, not simply pointing out what should be done. Walking humbly with God involves leaving obstacles behind and putting God first. We don’t choose between worship and action, God and the world, or even good and evil. We acknowledge that we live for God in the world and that good and evil are too intertwined to be cleanly separated. AMEN
Epiphany 3: January 22, 2023
Is there a condition more fleeting than contentment? How often have you felt that everything is just as it as ought to be -- that all is right with the world? Even in those moments when we feel sure that everyone we love is safe and well, we are preparing ourselves for the other shoe to drop. We know that some things are too good to last, so we protect ourselves with skepticism. We seek fulfillment and contentment through our jobs and the things that we can buy or build or acquire. That satisfaction never lasts long either. There is always something newer or older or faster or rarer. Contentment can also be viewed as settling and complacency. How can I possibly be happy with my current home or vehicle or spouse when there are so many more exciting options? Those who are content are considered strange and unmotivated. On top of it all, what thinking person could possibly be content in a world full of bad news and tragedy?
Jesus chooses a bad time to begin his ministry. If John has been imprisoned for questioning some of the King’s life choices, what will happen to Jesus when he proclaims the advent of a new kingdom? The Bible and all of history are full of accounts of the lengths to which rulers and governments will go to protect their power. Even so, Jesus begins where Paul left off -- with a call for repentance. Our ideas of repentance are all tangled up with our ideas of sin. Repentance is about confessing, making amends, and promising to do better. The first disciples show us what repentance really is -- dropping everything and following Jesus. You see, Jesus doesn’t just want a piece of us, he wants it all. The Kingdom has come near, and Kingdom work is restoration work. Matthew sums it up in one sentence: “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.” This is where Paul gets his vision of unity and harmony. Preaching and healing, encouraging and restoring, Jesus is a healing preacher and a preaching healer without concern for borders or boundaries.
I can feel a resistance building up. We aren’t really expected to drop everything and follow Jesus, are we? We have responsibilities, especially to our families. We can’t just become wandering do-gooders. The thing is, repentance is bigger than apologizing and it is more complicated than dropping everything. We can put God first and still have lives. Consider the amount of time spent discussing and denouncing all of the bad things going on in the world. The bad news is controlling us and paralyzing us. Repentance means turning away from our fixation with bad news and moving forward, trusting that the kingdom is indeed near. Instead of picturing Jesus as accompanying us on our personal journeys, we need to turn away from all of the things -- even the necessary things -- that surround us long enough to discern how to make those things part of our repentance as well. We don’t need to abandon or renounce our careers, our possessions, or our families in order to follow Christ, but we do need to reorient them so that they become part of the wholeness of kingdom living and not a distraction from it.
It seems impossible that this world can really be restored without a great apocalypse, and perhaps it can’t, but God has always entrusted us with His creation, with the world itself, and with one another. Yes, we have mostly made a mess of things, and we have chosen to remain in the shadow of death instead of moving toward the light, but God has not given up on us. It is still possible, maybe even inevitable that we will be a part of repairing the damage that we have done.
The first step on the path is a doozy. It involves setting aside judgment. Good luck! AMEN
Is there a condition more fleeting than contentment? How often have you felt that everything is just as it as ought to be -- that all is right with the world? Even in those moments when we feel sure that everyone we love is safe and well, we are preparing ourselves for the other shoe to drop. We know that some things are too good to last, so we protect ourselves with skepticism. We seek fulfillment and contentment through our jobs and the things that we can buy or build or acquire. That satisfaction never lasts long either. There is always something newer or older or faster or rarer. Contentment can also be viewed as settling and complacency. How can I possibly be happy with my current home or vehicle or spouse when there are so many more exciting options? Those who are content are considered strange and unmotivated. On top of it all, what thinking person could possibly be content in a world full of bad news and tragedy?
Jesus chooses a bad time to begin his ministry. If John has been imprisoned for questioning some of the King’s life choices, what will happen to Jesus when he proclaims the advent of a new kingdom? The Bible and all of history are full of accounts of the lengths to which rulers and governments will go to protect their power. Even so, Jesus begins where Paul left off -- with a call for repentance. Our ideas of repentance are all tangled up with our ideas of sin. Repentance is about confessing, making amends, and promising to do better. The first disciples show us what repentance really is -- dropping everything and following Jesus. You see, Jesus doesn’t just want a piece of us, he wants it all. The Kingdom has come near, and Kingdom work is restoration work. Matthew sums it up in one sentence: “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.” This is where Paul gets his vision of unity and harmony. Preaching and healing, encouraging and restoring, Jesus is a healing preacher and a preaching healer without concern for borders or boundaries.
I can feel a resistance building up. We aren’t really expected to drop everything and follow Jesus, are we? We have responsibilities, especially to our families. We can’t just become wandering do-gooders. The thing is, repentance is bigger than apologizing and it is more complicated than dropping everything. We can put God first and still have lives. Consider the amount of time spent discussing and denouncing all of the bad things going on in the world. The bad news is controlling us and paralyzing us. Repentance means turning away from our fixation with bad news and moving forward, trusting that the kingdom is indeed near. Instead of picturing Jesus as accompanying us on our personal journeys, we need to turn away from all of the things -- even the necessary things -- that surround us long enough to discern how to make those things part of our repentance as well. We don’t need to abandon or renounce our careers, our possessions, or our families in order to follow Christ, but we do need to reorient them so that they become part of the wholeness of kingdom living and not a distraction from it.
It seems impossible that this world can really be restored without a great apocalypse, and perhaps it can’t, but God has always entrusted us with His creation, with the world itself, and with one another. Yes, we have mostly made a mess of things, and we have chosen to remain in the shadow of death instead of moving toward the light, but God has not given up on us. It is still possible, maybe even inevitable that we will be a part of repairing the damage that we have done.
The first step on the path is a doozy. It involves setting aside judgment. Good luck! AMEN
The Baptism of Our Lord: January 8
I ended last week’s message: “Jesus was the fulfillment of the prophecies in the same way that a truckload of corn is the fulfillment of a bag of seed. The time will come when all things are made right through Christ, but that time is not yet here. Instead, we are given opportunities to respond and chances to learn to discern the voice of God.” At his baptism, Jesus tells John the Baptist that it “is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Notice that fulfillment again comes through response. Both John and Jesus are called to respond to God the ‘sponder. I have already spoken about righteousness, and, of course, Jesus is the ultimate example of righteousness. How does this work alongside and within John’s baptism of repentance and forgiveness?
The concept of righteousness does not begin with Jesus, and it isn’t limited to moral uprightness. “For example, Abraham “believed the LORD, and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). Abraham was righteous because he trusted God, not because he was morally perfect. Human righteousness entails being put in a right relationship before God, as Habakkuk states, “The righteous live by their faith” (Habakkuk 2:4).” Relationships take work, and that work never ends. When we repent, we are turning back towards God and away from temptation and sin. We are positioning ourselves to become righteous again.
This is not, or at least not only, an individual matter. Although Jesus had no sin, he was baptized to show solidarity with all of the sinners he had been sent to save. Rather than being washed clean, Jesus is immersing himself in the very river that the people of Israel crossed to enter the Promised Land. The message seems to be that once God chooses you, you stay chosen, BUT that being chosen is not like becoming a member in an exclusive club. God loves indiscriminately. Sin is not a barrier to righteousness, but an invitation to repentance. AMEN
I ended last week’s message: “Jesus was the fulfillment of the prophecies in the same way that a truckload of corn is the fulfillment of a bag of seed. The time will come when all things are made right through Christ, but that time is not yet here. Instead, we are given opportunities to respond and chances to learn to discern the voice of God.” At his baptism, Jesus tells John the Baptist that it “is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Notice that fulfillment again comes through response. Both John and Jesus are called to respond to God the ‘sponder. I have already spoken about righteousness, and, of course, Jesus is the ultimate example of righteousness. How does this work alongside and within John’s baptism of repentance and forgiveness?
The concept of righteousness does not begin with Jesus, and it isn’t limited to moral uprightness. “For example, Abraham “believed the LORD, and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). Abraham was righteous because he trusted God, not because he was morally perfect. Human righteousness entails being put in a right relationship before God, as Habakkuk states, “The righteous live by their faith” (Habakkuk 2:4).” Relationships take work, and that work never ends. When we repent, we are turning back towards God and away from temptation and sin. We are positioning ourselves to become righteous again.
This is not, or at least not only, an individual matter. Although Jesus had no sin, he was baptized to show solidarity with all of the sinners he had been sent to save. Rather than being washed clean, Jesus is immersing himself in the very river that the people of Israel crossed to enter the Promised Land. The message seems to be that once God chooses you, you stay chosen, BUT that being chosen is not like becoming a member in an exclusive club. God loves indiscriminately. Sin is not a barrier to righteousness, but an invitation to repentance. AMEN
Christmas One, January 1, 2023
Our gospel reading is full of supernatural communication and the fulfillment of prophecies. It reminds us that the Nativity was neither the beginning nor the end of God’s work among us. The life of Jesus was a circle within a circle within a circle. Jesus is connected to Moses, to the people of Israel, and to all of humanity. Jesus is born into suffering, hatred, and injustice; Jesus suffers and dies amidst hatred and injustice. This suffering was not incidental and it was not the beginning or the ending of God’s work among us either. The suffering not only shows the need for Jesus -- it also perfects Him and makes it possible for us to be saved.
As for the supernatural communications -- Joseph, who has already been convinced during an angelic visit to stay with Mary and help raise her son although he isn’t his son. It seems that while Mary is treasuring and pondering her experiences, God is using Joseph mainly as an unquestioning listener. Joseph is demonstrating responsibility, which comes from the same root as “respond,” which is what Joseph repeatedly does instead of questioning or arguing.
It seems awfully convenient that God keeps telling Joseph what to do. Could it be that God is unusually persistent and communicative because he is protecting his own son? Is Joseph especially willing to listen since he has already accepted the responsibility of raising the Son of God? The answer lies in the words themselves. Fulfillment takes response, and response is not a solo act. Although response and responsibility aren’t built with the prefix “re” meaning again, grammar provides a useful way of looking at them. We cannot “spond” or be “sponsible” -- we can only respond and be responsible. God is the “sponder” -- the initiator of the action. That was the case for Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarah, Noah, Jacob, Joseph, Moses…
Remember the circle with which I opened the message? It is a circle of birth and death, growth and diminishment, remembering and forgetting. It is the seed dying to produce life and the plant dying after producing seed. It is the life of both believer and unbeliever when we are confronted with our own powerlessness and need. Will suffering refine us or destroy us? Are we willing to die in order to live anew in the Kingdom of God? Those might all seem like sort of vague questions without much value in our daily lives, but we live lives of constant opportunities to listen and respond or to simply exist.
Lately, God has been speaking to me quite a bit. I say that even though I couldn’t really tell you what God sounds like or exactly what God wants me to do. I am at a time in my life marked by physical and mental diminishment and a decreasing ability to handle pressure. This has pushed me to begin listening more carefully for the voice of God. It has also made me more vulnerable to the voice of the tempter. You see, the tempter is also a “sponder,” putting a series of challenges and false promises out there to see how we will respond. I do know the voice of the tempter. I know it very well because it is the voice that I treasure the most in this world -- my own. That voice constantly tells me that I deserve better, that I am justified in hurting others because I have been hurt. It tells me that I live with a series of obstacles and pressures unique, in all of human history, to me. Ironically, it also tells me that I don’t deserve what I have and that I don’t have the power to hurt, help, or impact others in any way.
Jesus was the fulfillment of the prophecies in the same way that a truckload of corn is the fulfillment of a bag of seed. The time will come when all things are made right through Christ, but that time is not yet here. Instead, we are given opportunities to respond and chances to learn to discern the voice of God. AMEN
Our gospel reading is full of supernatural communication and the fulfillment of prophecies. It reminds us that the Nativity was neither the beginning nor the end of God’s work among us. The life of Jesus was a circle within a circle within a circle. Jesus is connected to Moses, to the people of Israel, and to all of humanity. Jesus is born into suffering, hatred, and injustice; Jesus suffers and dies amidst hatred and injustice. This suffering was not incidental and it was not the beginning or the ending of God’s work among us either. The suffering not only shows the need for Jesus -- it also perfects Him and makes it possible for us to be saved.
As for the supernatural communications -- Joseph, who has already been convinced during an angelic visit to stay with Mary and help raise her son although he isn’t his son. It seems that while Mary is treasuring and pondering her experiences, God is using Joseph mainly as an unquestioning listener. Joseph is demonstrating responsibility, which comes from the same root as “respond,” which is what Joseph repeatedly does instead of questioning or arguing.
It seems awfully convenient that God keeps telling Joseph what to do. Could it be that God is unusually persistent and communicative because he is protecting his own son? Is Joseph especially willing to listen since he has already accepted the responsibility of raising the Son of God? The answer lies in the words themselves. Fulfillment takes response, and response is not a solo act. Although response and responsibility aren’t built with the prefix “re” meaning again, grammar provides a useful way of looking at them. We cannot “spond” or be “sponsible” -- we can only respond and be responsible. God is the “sponder” -- the initiator of the action. That was the case for Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarah, Noah, Jacob, Joseph, Moses…
Remember the circle with which I opened the message? It is a circle of birth and death, growth and diminishment, remembering and forgetting. It is the seed dying to produce life and the plant dying after producing seed. It is the life of both believer and unbeliever when we are confronted with our own powerlessness and need. Will suffering refine us or destroy us? Are we willing to die in order to live anew in the Kingdom of God? Those might all seem like sort of vague questions without much value in our daily lives, but we live lives of constant opportunities to listen and respond or to simply exist.
Lately, God has been speaking to me quite a bit. I say that even though I couldn’t really tell you what God sounds like or exactly what God wants me to do. I am at a time in my life marked by physical and mental diminishment and a decreasing ability to handle pressure. This has pushed me to begin listening more carefully for the voice of God. It has also made me more vulnerable to the voice of the tempter. You see, the tempter is also a “sponder,” putting a series of challenges and false promises out there to see how we will respond. I do know the voice of the tempter. I know it very well because it is the voice that I treasure the most in this world -- my own. That voice constantly tells me that I deserve better, that I am justified in hurting others because I have been hurt. It tells me that I live with a series of obstacles and pressures unique, in all of human history, to me. Ironically, it also tells me that I don’t deserve what I have and that I don’t have the power to hurt, help, or impact others in any way.
Jesus was the fulfillment of the prophecies in the same way that a truckload of corn is the fulfillment of a bag of seed. The time will come when all things are made right through Christ, but that time is not yet here. Instead, we are given opportunities to respond and chances to learn to discern the voice of God. AMEN
Won’t you be my neighbor? A message about stewardship.
The most important thing to know about “the Widow’s mite” is that it doesn’t matter. Her offering will make absolutely no difference in the operation of the temple, and it wasn’t enough to buy her anything had she kept it. She has nothing of any earthly value to give. This parallels the reading from First Peter, which begins with the statement “the end is near” and then gives instructions on giving. Mark’s message, is repeated as John the Baptist doesn’t even make it out of the first chapter before he is imprisoned and his ministry is over, the fishermen drop their nets and leave their livelihood to follow Jesus, and Jesus announces that “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” Mark’s message could be translated, “You have to decide between God and stuff,” or “You will only have value once you realize that you have no value.”
As I mentioned earlier, we are called to live in a circle of giving that creates a neighborhood of grace. A church that worships reluctantly or under compulsion is not really worshiping. A pastor who serves reluctantly or under compulsion is useless. Church councils, board members, delegates, ushers, lay readers… you get the picture. Whether it happens quickly or slowly, a church that does not give, with members who do not give, is doomed. The good news is that whether our churches remain open or close makes no more difference than the widow’s mite.
You might find it strange, wrong, or even offensive that a pastor would say that a church has no value, but I ask you to remember that “even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Jesus placed no value on his own life except as a gift.
The idea of stewardship in a church generally entails collecting enough money to pay the bills and keep the building in good shape. In our personal lives, we need to make sure that we have enough to keep ourselves and our families as comfortable as possible. There is, of course, nothing wrong with either of those things, but God wants something more from us:. We are to follow the Greatest Commandment, the double love commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”
William Barclay said, “Giving which is real giving has a certain recklessness in it. It is our tragedy that there is often some part of our lives, some part of our activities, some part of ourselves which we do not give to Christ. Somehow there is always something that we hold back.” The last disciple to join Jesus in the Triumphal Entry is blind Bartimeus. The poor widow and the unnamed woman who anoints Jesus with impractically expensive ointment are held up as our role models. We must embrace our own insignificance in order to live fully in the Kingdom. I would argue that this is not so much a financial thing as it is a question of values. Take a moment to imagine a ledger with one column headed “enjoy” and the other “endure.” Go through your past week or look ahead to next week, and start filling the columns.
In a neighborhood of grace, the “endure” column is empty. We find joy in service because we have let go of the part of ourselves that was occupied by fear, resentment, and jealousy. We can be cheerful givers because we know that God provides more than enough of the things that really matter. We can stop dragging our feet, checking our watches, crossing our arms, rolling our eyes, and yawning our lives away and embrace the gift of life. Once we realize that all that we are and all that we have is an unearned gift, we can love our neighbors as ourselves by giving of ourselves. And the circle will go on… AMEN
The most important thing to know about “the Widow’s mite” is that it doesn’t matter. Her offering will make absolutely no difference in the operation of the temple, and it wasn’t enough to buy her anything had she kept it. She has nothing of any earthly value to give. This parallels the reading from First Peter, which begins with the statement “the end is near” and then gives instructions on giving. Mark’s message, is repeated as John the Baptist doesn’t even make it out of the first chapter before he is imprisoned and his ministry is over, the fishermen drop their nets and leave their livelihood to follow Jesus, and Jesus announces that “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” Mark’s message could be translated, “You have to decide between God and stuff,” or “You will only have value once you realize that you have no value.”
As I mentioned earlier, we are called to live in a circle of giving that creates a neighborhood of grace. A church that worships reluctantly or under compulsion is not really worshiping. A pastor who serves reluctantly or under compulsion is useless. Church councils, board members, delegates, ushers, lay readers… you get the picture. Whether it happens quickly or slowly, a church that does not give, with members who do not give, is doomed. The good news is that whether our churches remain open or close makes no more difference than the widow’s mite.
You might find it strange, wrong, or even offensive that a pastor would say that a church has no value, but I ask you to remember that “even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Jesus placed no value on his own life except as a gift.
The idea of stewardship in a church generally entails collecting enough money to pay the bills and keep the building in good shape. In our personal lives, we need to make sure that we have enough to keep ourselves and our families as comfortable as possible. There is, of course, nothing wrong with either of those things, but God wants something more from us:. We are to follow the Greatest Commandment, the double love commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”
William Barclay said, “Giving which is real giving has a certain recklessness in it. It is our tragedy that there is often some part of our lives, some part of our activities, some part of ourselves which we do not give to Christ. Somehow there is always something that we hold back.” The last disciple to join Jesus in the Triumphal Entry is blind Bartimeus. The poor widow and the unnamed woman who anoints Jesus with impractically expensive ointment are held up as our role models. We must embrace our own insignificance in order to live fully in the Kingdom. I would argue that this is not so much a financial thing as it is a question of values. Take a moment to imagine a ledger with one column headed “enjoy” and the other “endure.” Go through your past week or look ahead to next week, and start filling the columns.
In a neighborhood of grace, the “endure” column is empty. We find joy in service because we have let go of the part of ourselves that was occupied by fear, resentment, and jealousy. We can be cheerful givers because we know that God provides more than enough of the things that really matter. We can stop dragging our feet, checking our watches, crossing our arms, rolling our eyes, and yawning our lives away and embrace the gift of life. Once we realize that all that we are and all that we have is an unearned gift, we can love our neighbors as ourselves by giving of ourselves. And the circle will go on… AMEN
Advent 2, December 4, 2022 Matthew 3:1-12
Advent must be more than getting ready to celebrate the Nativity. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t always get John the Baptist on the second Sunday. Since I have not felt particularly effective as a preacher or as a teacher lately, much of my focus was on John himself. What was it that drew people from the city of Jerusalem to the wilderness and the banks of the Jordan? His clothing was like what Elijah had worn, and the Jewish people expected Elijah to return and announce the coming of the Messiah, but John’s appearance was more than a gimmick. Although we know even less about John’s childhood than we know about that of Jesus, it is most likely that John had spent years living in the wilderness communing with God and discerning the role that he had been destined to play from the time when he lept in his mother’s womb at the arrival of the pregnant Mary.
The wilderness would have reminded the people of Israel of their past and their closeness to God as they journeyed from Egypt, across the River Jordan, to the Promised Land. If John had been an imposter, dressing as Elijah and standing in the water bordering the Promised land would have been a nice touch. His message would have been about how the messiah was coming to gather the chosen people and lead them in retaking what was rightfully theirs, and I suppose that we could read it that way if we were so inclined. Surely the clearing of the threshing floor will result in burning away all of the evil in the world and leaving plump, righteous grains of wheat like us.
Our complacency would not be well-founded. John’s warning to the Pharisees and the Sadducees wasn’t simply a distinction between people who claimed the proper set of beliefs and those who didn’t -- it was a reminder of the need to bear fruit -- not eventually but immediately. People came to hear John because they felt the truth of his message. They were baptized because they understood that the prophecies were coming to fruition. John quotes Isaiah here, and Matthew repeatedly quotes the prophets in his gospel.
If you are thinking about this at all, and I hope that you are, you might be wondering the same thing that John the Baptist later thought -- since the axe was already at the root of the tree, why didn’t Jesus just get to chopping? All of these centuries later, complacency has settled in. Most of us no longer feel the need to think about God at all, and many have no problem dismissing the very idea of God out of hand. We might call for “putting Christ back in Christmas” and long for the days when our pews were full, but what are we doing to prepare the way of the Lord? How are we bearing good fruit? Are we aware of our need for the refiner’s fire?
The good news is that each and every one of us is worth saving. We do not need to fear the fire -- we should rejoice in the opportunity to be perfected. We begin by making the road straight within ourselves -- between ourselves and God -- repenting -- turning toward God as a flower is drawn to the sun -- letting go of the parts of us that no longer serve us well like chaff is separated from wheat. Clearing a road is work, and work is necessary to foster faith. This work includes regular prayer and reading of scripture, but it also gives us the opportunity to come together to celebrate the fact that we are a part of God’s good creation. Worship should be a reflection of that understanding, full of hope and joy. Though we can sometimes stir that up on Christmas Eve or Easter morning, those feelings of hope and joy would seldom be observable to someone who attended one of our worship services. As we move through Advent, look for the joy that comes through knowing Christ. AMEN
Advent must be more than getting ready to celebrate the Nativity. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t always get John the Baptist on the second Sunday. Since I have not felt particularly effective as a preacher or as a teacher lately, much of my focus was on John himself. What was it that drew people from the city of Jerusalem to the wilderness and the banks of the Jordan? His clothing was like what Elijah had worn, and the Jewish people expected Elijah to return and announce the coming of the Messiah, but John’s appearance was more than a gimmick. Although we know even less about John’s childhood than we know about that of Jesus, it is most likely that John had spent years living in the wilderness communing with God and discerning the role that he had been destined to play from the time when he lept in his mother’s womb at the arrival of the pregnant Mary.
The wilderness would have reminded the people of Israel of their past and their closeness to God as they journeyed from Egypt, across the River Jordan, to the Promised Land. If John had been an imposter, dressing as Elijah and standing in the water bordering the Promised land would have been a nice touch. His message would have been about how the messiah was coming to gather the chosen people and lead them in retaking what was rightfully theirs, and I suppose that we could read it that way if we were so inclined. Surely the clearing of the threshing floor will result in burning away all of the evil in the world and leaving plump, righteous grains of wheat like us.
Our complacency would not be well-founded. John’s warning to the Pharisees and the Sadducees wasn’t simply a distinction between people who claimed the proper set of beliefs and those who didn’t -- it was a reminder of the need to bear fruit -- not eventually but immediately. People came to hear John because they felt the truth of his message. They were baptized because they understood that the prophecies were coming to fruition. John quotes Isaiah here, and Matthew repeatedly quotes the prophets in his gospel.
If you are thinking about this at all, and I hope that you are, you might be wondering the same thing that John the Baptist later thought -- since the axe was already at the root of the tree, why didn’t Jesus just get to chopping? All of these centuries later, complacency has settled in. Most of us no longer feel the need to think about God at all, and many have no problem dismissing the very idea of God out of hand. We might call for “putting Christ back in Christmas” and long for the days when our pews were full, but what are we doing to prepare the way of the Lord? How are we bearing good fruit? Are we aware of our need for the refiner’s fire?
The good news is that each and every one of us is worth saving. We do not need to fear the fire -- we should rejoice in the opportunity to be perfected. We begin by making the road straight within ourselves -- between ourselves and God -- repenting -- turning toward God as a flower is drawn to the sun -- letting go of the parts of us that no longer serve us well like chaff is separated from wheat. Clearing a road is work, and work is necessary to foster faith. This work includes regular prayer and reading of scripture, but it also gives us the opportunity to come together to celebrate the fact that we are a part of God’s good creation. Worship should be a reflection of that understanding, full of hope and joy. Though we can sometimes stir that up on Christmas Eve or Easter morning, those feelings of hope and joy would seldom be observable to someone who attended one of our worship services. As we move through Advent, look for the joy that comes through knowing Christ. AMEN
There is nothing mysterious about Jesus’ message in today’s gospel reading. After Jesus predicts the destruction of the Temple, the disciples approach him privately and ask him to “Tell us, when will these things be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” Jesus gives a detailed account of the signs, but he tells them that not even he knows when the time will be. He reminds them that nobody knew what was happening during the time of Noah until it had been raining for quite some time. As opposed to the band playing on while the Titanic sank in order to calm the passengers, the people continued to eat, drink, and marry one another until they were all swept away.
In the early church, Paul and the other apostles had to deal with the expectation that Jesus would be returning at any moment. As time passed, people began to look more closely at scripture in an attempt to figure out when the return would be. There have been countless predictions of the end times. At this point, I wonder whether we really believe that Jesus will return in judgment, or whether it has become a kind of vague, old-fashioned idea that no longer has any influence over us. This is complicated by the idea that because Jesus died for our sins, the work is done, and we are assured of a place in heaven (which will be a place where we are reunited with our loved ones to finally live our “best lives”. At worst, the kindly Jesus will certainly give us time to make things right before judging us (and judgment is pretty harsh and un-Christian).
No such thing, says Jesus. His return will be sudden and unexpected, and there will be no debate or explanation of who is left and who is taken. Of course, as the goats say in the story of the judgment of the sheep and goats, had they only known exactly what was expected, they would have been ready. We know what is expected of us. Are we ready?
In the early church, Paul and the other apostles had to deal with the expectation that Jesus would be returning at any moment. As time passed, people began to look more closely at scripture in an attempt to figure out when the return would be. There have been countless predictions of the end times. At this point, I wonder whether we really believe that Jesus will return in judgment, or whether it has become a kind of vague, old-fashioned idea that no longer has any influence over us. This is complicated by the idea that because Jesus died for our sins, the work is done, and we are assured of a place in heaven (which will be a place where we are reunited with our loved ones to finally live our “best lives”. At worst, the kindly Jesus will certainly give us time to make things right before judging us (and judgment is pretty harsh and un-Christian).
No such thing, says Jesus. His return will be sudden and unexpected, and there will be no debate or explanation of who is left and who is taken. Of course, as the goats say in the story of the judgment of the sheep and goats, had they only known exactly what was expected, they would have been ready. We know what is expected of us. Are we ready?
Kingship and Kinship: Christ the King Sunday
A little lection is a dangerous thing. I have spoken many times of the dangers of the familiar gospel readings, but it was mostly a plea for you to listen to my sermon, where I would shed brilliant new light into the dusty corners of your understanding of scripture. I have also pontificated from the pulpit on the difference between focusing on one gospel writer’s account of an incident and putting them all together to make a whole. It is rather embarrassing, then, to admit that I am not particularly skilled at taking my own advice. I know that I have said multiple times and with great confidence that all of the disciples ran and hid during the crucifixion. Even when I skewered John for making himself the only disciple who stuck around, I continued to insist that the others fled. Imagine my surprise, then, when I read a few verses past today’s text and encountered this: “But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance watching these things.”
You have to do some strenuous mental gymnastics to read Luke’s account and continue to insist that the disciples fled. Chastened and crestfallen, I read a few verses that precede the assigned reading to find that after the crowd shouted down Pilate, insisting that Barabus be set free and that Jesus be crucified, “A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him.” I began to suspect that I had been ignoring any parts of the account that didn’t fit with my tidy narrative that the people who shouted hosannas on Palm Sunday were the same people who shouted “crucify him” days later. For me, the point of the crucifixion was that it revealed the fickle nature of humanity.
Needless to say, Luke had something else in mind. Crucifixion was effective mostly because it publicly represented the ultimate power of the Roman government. Since those who needed Jesus dead lacked both the popular support and the authority to have Jesus killed, they tacked on the charge of sedition and sent him to the Roman authorities. As Jesus was brought before Pilate, then Herod, then back to Pilate, and finally to Golgotha, he was accompanied by a crowd. In my mind, that crowd was shouting “crucify him” and “give us Barabbas,” but a closer reading of Luke’s account makes it seem more likely that the people making the noise were those who wanted him dead, along with as much of a mob as they could assemble. Meanwhile, Jesus' friends and followers watched and wept.
It may have appeared that Rome was fully in control as they placed the cross on Jesus’ back and marched him toward a humiliating death. The touch of hanging him between two criminals, under the inscription, “This is the King of the Jews.” was meant to send a clear message. No matter who you are or claim to be, no one messes with Rome and lives. It is clear, though, that Jesus had forced Rome to this point. Pilate and Herod questioned him, gave him opportunities to grovel, had him bullied and beaten, and mocked him -- they used everything in their bag of tricks to force Jesus to show weakness. When he did not, they had no choice but to crucify him.
After Jesus gives a brief speech to those who have followed him to the place of his death, he has the audacity to forgive those who are about to kill him. It is no wonder that they turn up the volume of their taunting. We have to remember, though, that Jesus’ friends are still there watching what is happening and that the others who have been following Jesus all day are also present. This may be the story of an angry mob, but it is also the story of people who are beating their breasts, wailing, and grieving for their Messiah. Their presence shows the Roman government that the public killing of their leader will not deter them -- they have seen the ultimate power, the One, True, King, and they will bow to no one else. AMEN
A little lection is a dangerous thing. I have spoken many times of the dangers of the familiar gospel readings, but it was mostly a plea for you to listen to my sermon, where I would shed brilliant new light into the dusty corners of your understanding of scripture. I have also pontificated from the pulpit on the difference between focusing on one gospel writer’s account of an incident and putting them all together to make a whole. It is rather embarrassing, then, to admit that I am not particularly skilled at taking my own advice. I know that I have said multiple times and with great confidence that all of the disciples ran and hid during the crucifixion. Even when I skewered John for making himself the only disciple who stuck around, I continued to insist that the others fled. Imagine my surprise, then, when I read a few verses past today’s text and encountered this: “But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance watching these things.”
You have to do some strenuous mental gymnastics to read Luke’s account and continue to insist that the disciples fled. Chastened and crestfallen, I read a few verses that precede the assigned reading to find that after the crowd shouted down Pilate, insisting that Barabus be set free and that Jesus be crucified, “A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him.” I began to suspect that I had been ignoring any parts of the account that didn’t fit with my tidy narrative that the people who shouted hosannas on Palm Sunday were the same people who shouted “crucify him” days later. For me, the point of the crucifixion was that it revealed the fickle nature of humanity.
Needless to say, Luke had something else in mind. Crucifixion was effective mostly because it publicly represented the ultimate power of the Roman government. Since those who needed Jesus dead lacked both the popular support and the authority to have Jesus killed, they tacked on the charge of sedition and sent him to the Roman authorities. As Jesus was brought before Pilate, then Herod, then back to Pilate, and finally to Golgotha, he was accompanied by a crowd. In my mind, that crowd was shouting “crucify him” and “give us Barabbas,” but a closer reading of Luke’s account makes it seem more likely that the people making the noise were those who wanted him dead, along with as much of a mob as they could assemble. Meanwhile, Jesus' friends and followers watched and wept.
It may have appeared that Rome was fully in control as they placed the cross on Jesus’ back and marched him toward a humiliating death. The touch of hanging him between two criminals, under the inscription, “This is the King of the Jews.” was meant to send a clear message. No matter who you are or claim to be, no one messes with Rome and lives. It is clear, though, that Jesus had forced Rome to this point. Pilate and Herod questioned him, gave him opportunities to grovel, had him bullied and beaten, and mocked him -- they used everything in their bag of tricks to force Jesus to show weakness. When he did not, they had no choice but to crucify him.
After Jesus gives a brief speech to those who have followed him to the place of his death, he has the audacity to forgive those who are about to kill him. It is no wonder that they turn up the volume of their taunting. We have to remember, though, that Jesus’ friends are still there watching what is happening and that the others who have been following Jesus all day are also present. This may be the story of an angry mob, but it is also the story of people who are beating their breasts, wailing, and grieving for their Messiah. Their presence shows the Roman government that the public killing of their leader will not deter them -- they have seen the ultimate power, the One, True, King, and they will bow to no one else. AMEN
Jesus and the disciples have just walked out of the temple. Fresh from the lesson of The Widow’s Mite: that it is more impressive when humble people give humbly than when great men give to accentuate their greatness, one of the disciples mentions the impressiveness of the temple. There are many ways for Jesus to use this as a teachable moment. He could say that, like the puffed-up men ostentatiously giving their offerings inside the Temple, the building itself is more sizzle than steak. It is, after all, the result of Herod’s competition with rulers of other nations to build the most impressive shrine to their various gods. He could have immediately launched into a warning of the consequences of their lack of understanding. Instead, he does a little of each.
Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of the Temple is one of the charges used to justify the crucifixion. It also dovetails perfectly into the warning about false prophets. The priests and other religious officials are trying to make sense of the scriptures, and Jesus’ ministry doesn’t make sense. Their understanding of the Messiah as a military leader who will restore the people of Israel and punish their enemies makes sense. The idea that God will reward those who follow the rules and punish those who don’t makes sense. Even if the priests were willing to accept Jesus’ message, who would come to the Temple to hear it? People needed an understandable message that would encourage them, and the idea that they could do something to earn their salvation and that they would have the pleasure of seeing their enemies burn fit the bill. Of course, that is a message that still sells. The very idea of sacrifice that doesn’t earn points toward a reward just can’t seem to fill the pews.
The list of wars and natural disasters that follows is generic. These things have always happened and will continue to happen until Christ returns; they are neither reasons to believe that the end is near nor signs that God is weak. The idea that people won’t understand God’s message and will become angry at those who share it is also timeless. While we don’t need to worry about being imprisoned or killed, there can be social and familial consequences for consistently sharing the Word. More importantly, fear of consequences, no matter how minor, holds most of us back from fully living into and sharing God’s Word. Whether you are a pastor who soft-pedals the message to keep it from causing controversy or a lay person who finds it easier to look the other way than to stand up for their beliefs, you are letting fear overcome faith. Jesus assures us that “not a hair of your heads will perish,” and that, “By our endurance we will gain our souls.”
That does not mean that salvation is compensation for our suffering. It does mean that our struggles give us the best opportunity to grow in faith and to share our faith with others. As Paul put it, it is easy to “become weary in doing what is right,” especially since tangible results seem so rare. Doing what is right doesn’t keep us or our loved ones safe from harm, it doesn’t convince others to change their ways, and it doesn’t always give us comfort. It is easy to find people who seem to be doing what is wrong and getting better results. This brings us back to the Temple as a facade and the false prophets who continually tell us what we want to hear. The bottom line is that we have made little (if any) progress in understanding how God works in the 2,000 some odd years since Jesus ascended. At best, we have put some new words on old ideas. Just as the return of Christ will be both an ending and a new beginning, a life of faith is both an embracing and a letting go. AMEN
All Saints, November 6, 2022
Since it is All Saints Sunday, I would like to begin by welcoming all the saints here this morning. I would also like to extend a special welcome to all of the sinners who have found the courage to come to worship today. Of course, only one welcome is needed because we are all both sinners and saints. It is important that we remember that so were the saints that we honor today. We don’t love and miss them because they were perfect, and we don’t call them saints because they were somehow above us.
The crowd listening to Jesus speak in the gospel reading is also a mixed group. The newly-called apostles follow Jesus down from the mountaintop and find a huge crowd waiting for Jesus. Many had come with specific needs that needed to be met; they were sick or suffering. Others might be considered disciples; they were eager to learn more about and from Jesus. There were also people who weren’t quite sure why they were there. Perhaps they saw a crowd and wondered what it was all about. As he does throughout his ministry, Jesus addresses all of them. Depending on why they were there, those in the crowd heard what Jesus said in different ways. Those who were healed (and all of them were) may have taken nothing but that healing from their encounter with Jesus. Some may have either stuck around or later returned to Jesus as disciples. Those who had come to learn may have liked what they heard, or they may have decided that it wasn’t for them. While we know that the apostles stayed with Jesus, we also know that their journey to understanding was only beginning.
We are like that group in that our individual needs and reasons for being here vary. Some of our needs will be met, and others will not be. Those who aren’t here need to understand that. We aren’t perfected saints with all of the answers, but seekers just like everyone else. In the language of today’s reading, we are all poor in some way. That means that we are also blessed. Unfortunately, blessed has become one of those churchy words that can turn people off. Unless they sneeze, if we bless someone, they might see it as someone better than them offering them something that they didn’t ask for. Translating the word as happy doesn’t do much to alleviate the problem because “happy” is a subjective term that seems superficial and fleeting. “Satisfied” is probably the most useful word to use here.
We are all also rich because of God’s promise to us. The word “woe” is problematic. It seems like the poor are saved while the rich are damned. It is better for us to imagine that Jesus is telling us to look out. So here we sit, sinner and saint, rich and poor. Like the congregation in Ephesus, we have heard the promise. Like the crowd surrounding Jesus, we are in various places as far as our response to it, and we all have different needs that we want met through Christ. If we are lucky, we have caught a glimpse of God’s promise in action. For many, that means that we have been forced out of any feeling of privilege, be it through grief, sickness, economic hardship, hunger -- any situation that makes it clear that we are in over our heads and unable to help ourselves. That feeling of privilege is what Jesus is warning against. We need to look out, lest we settle for earthly comfort and stop turning to Jesus and living into the blessing.
We are all a part of the Communion of Saints. I should say that everyone, everywhere is a part of the Communion of Saints. To use the metaphor of the vine, some will use that connection to grow and flourish (in spite of or even because of grief and hardship). Others will take enough sustenance to bear adequate fruit. Others will wither and fall away. As we gather at the table today, may all of us find satisfaction. AMEN
Since it is All Saints Sunday, I would like to begin by welcoming all the saints here this morning. I would also like to extend a special welcome to all of the sinners who have found the courage to come to worship today. Of course, only one welcome is needed because we are all both sinners and saints. It is important that we remember that so were the saints that we honor today. We don’t love and miss them because they were perfect, and we don’t call them saints because they were somehow above us.
The crowd listening to Jesus speak in the gospel reading is also a mixed group. The newly-called apostles follow Jesus down from the mountaintop and find a huge crowd waiting for Jesus. Many had come with specific needs that needed to be met; they were sick or suffering. Others might be considered disciples; they were eager to learn more about and from Jesus. There were also people who weren’t quite sure why they were there. Perhaps they saw a crowd and wondered what it was all about. As he does throughout his ministry, Jesus addresses all of them. Depending on why they were there, those in the crowd heard what Jesus said in different ways. Those who were healed (and all of them were) may have taken nothing but that healing from their encounter with Jesus. Some may have either stuck around or later returned to Jesus as disciples. Those who had come to learn may have liked what they heard, or they may have decided that it wasn’t for them. While we know that the apostles stayed with Jesus, we also know that their journey to understanding was only beginning.
We are like that group in that our individual needs and reasons for being here vary. Some of our needs will be met, and others will not be. Those who aren’t here need to understand that. We aren’t perfected saints with all of the answers, but seekers just like everyone else. In the language of today’s reading, we are all poor in some way. That means that we are also blessed. Unfortunately, blessed has become one of those churchy words that can turn people off. Unless they sneeze, if we bless someone, they might see it as someone better than them offering them something that they didn’t ask for. Translating the word as happy doesn’t do much to alleviate the problem because “happy” is a subjective term that seems superficial and fleeting. “Satisfied” is probably the most useful word to use here.
We are all also rich because of God’s promise to us. The word “woe” is problematic. It seems like the poor are saved while the rich are damned. It is better for us to imagine that Jesus is telling us to look out. So here we sit, sinner and saint, rich and poor. Like the congregation in Ephesus, we have heard the promise. Like the crowd surrounding Jesus, we are in various places as far as our response to it, and we all have different needs that we want met through Christ. If we are lucky, we have caught a glimpse of God’s promise in action. For many, that means that we have been forced out of any feeling of privilege, be it through grief, sickness, economic hardship, hunger -- any situation that makes it clear that we are in over our heads and unable to help ourselves. That feeling of privilege is what Jesus is warning against. We need to look out, lest we settle for earthly comfort and stop turning to Jesus and living into the blessing.
We are all a part of the Communion of Saints. I should say that everyone, everywhere is a part of the Communion of Saints. To use the metaphor of the vine, some will use that connection to grow and flourish (in spite of or even because of grief and hardship). Others will take enough sustenance to bear adequate fruit. Others will wither and fall away. As we gather at the table today, may all of us find satisfaction. AMEN
Reformation Sunday: October 30, 2022
If Reformation brings anything to mind, it is likely an image of Martin Luther nailing something or another to a door, freeing us from the tyranny of Catholicism. I would wager that for most of us, that picture and what it represents are fuzzy at best. Reformation Sunday as the observation of an event that may or may not have happened over 500 years ago is hardly worth the extra change of the paraments. In the Small Catechism, Luther said that baptism with water “signifies that the old person in us with all sins and evil desires is to be drowned and die through daily sorrow for sin and through repentance, and on the other hand that daily a new person is to come forth and rise up to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.” Baptism is not a one and done: Luther is reputed to have said “I tried to drown the old Adam in the waters of baptism, but the miserable wretch can swim. The red paraments are to remind us of all who have been martyred for their faith in Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit that we have been given through baptism. We have been washed in the blood of the Lamb!
This is Jesus’ message in our gospel reading. Jesus was the word made flesh. It is not enough, then, to turn back to words -- to learn about Jesus, and it is certainly not enough to say that we believe. God came to earth in the form of Jesus so that we could KNOW him. Living in a rural area, I have found that knowing people can mean anything from having heard of them to knowing some stories about them to knowing who they are related to to having met them once or twice to being best friends. That question, do you know _____, or the statement form, well, you know _______, don’t you? comes up regularly, and I often find it easier to say yes than to let the person give me chapter and verse on who the person is. Saying that we know Jesus covers an equally wide range. It is even more complicated because we are incapable of fully knowing Jesus. Jesus is the truth, but, as Jack Nicholson famously said, we can’t handle the truth. Instead, we are called to embody it, and we can only do that by abiding in Christ.
Jesus gives two options: we can live in him or we can live in sin. As Luther pointed out, living in Jesus doesn’t mean that we will be able to stop sinning without constant repentance. C.S. Lewis called this “The Law of Undulation,” which is a fancy way of saying that we will have our ups and our downs. Living in sin, on the other hand, doesn’t mean that we will find ourselves in a gutter clutching a bottle in a brown paper bag. Our choice is between living according to our impulses and what makes us feel the best at the moment or living a life directed by our growing relationship with Jesus. Please don’t confuse this with following the rules vs. not following the rules. A life spent diligently doesn’t really sound like freedom, does it?
The truth will make us free, but what is freedom? We tend to think of it as the removal from the barriers that might prevent us from doing what we want -- freedom from. Jesus is offering instead freedom for. Think for a moment about what makes something free. In a wheel or an engine, free is the opposite of stuck. If they are free, they can turn, which, of course, is what they were made to do. If a bird is free, it can fly. Freedom means being able to do what we are made to do. If we believe that God is our creator, that means being free to be what God made us to be. AMEN
If Reformation brings anything to mind, it is likely an image of Martin Luther nailing something or another to a door, freeing us from the tyranny of Catholicism. I would wager that for most of us, that picture and what it represents are fuzzy at best. Reformation Sunday as the observation of an event that may or may not have happened over 500 years ago is hardly worth the extra change of the paraments. In the Small Catechism, Luther said that baptism with water “signifies that the old person in us with all sins and evil desires is to be drowned and die through daily sorrow for sin and through repentance, and on the other hand that daily a new person is to come forth and rise up to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.” Baptism is not a one and done: Luther is reputed to have said “I tried to drown the old Adam in the waters of baptism, but the miserable wretch can swim. The red paraments are to remind us of all who have been martyred for their faith in Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit that we have been given through baptism. We have been washed in the blood of the Lamb!
This is Jesus’ message in our gospel reading. Jesus was the word made flesh. It is not enough, then, to turn back to words -- to learn about Jesus, and it is certainly not enough to say that we believe. God came to earth in the form of Jesus so that we could KNOW him. Living in a rural area, I have found that knowing people can mean anything from having heard of them to knowing some stories about them to knowing who they are related to to having met them once or twice to being best friends. That question, do you know _____, or the statement form, well, you know _______, don’t you? comes up regularly, and I often find it easier to say yes than to let the person give me chapter and verse on who the person is. Saying that we know Jesus covers an equally wide range. It is even more complicated because we are incapable of fully knowing Jesus. Jesus is the truth, but, as Jack Nicholson famously said, we can’t handle the truth. Instead, we are called to embody it, and we can only do that by abiding in Christ.
Jesus gives two options: we can live in him or we can live in sin. As Luther pointed out, living in Jesus doesn’t mean that we will be able to stop sinning without constant repentance. C.S. Lewis called this “The Law of Undulation,” which is a fancy way of saying that we will have our ups and our downs. Living in sin, on the other hand, doesn’t mean that we will find ourselves in a gutter clutching a bottle in a brown paper bag. Our choice is between living according to our impulses and what makes us feel the best at the moment or living a life directed by our growing relationship with Jesus. Please don’t confuse this with following the rules vs. not following the rules. A life spent diligently doesn’t really sound like freedom, does it?
The truth will make us free, but what is freedom? We tend to think of it as the removal from the barriers that might prevent us from doing what we want -- freedom from. Jesus is offering instead freedom for. Think for a moment about what makes something free. In a wheel or an engine, free is the opposite of stuck. If they are free, they can turn, which, of course, is what they were made to do. If a bird is free, it can fly. Freedom means being able to do what we are made to do. If we believe that God is our creator, that means being free to be what God made us to be. AMEN
Both the Pharisee and the tax collector were outliers in society. The Pharisee because he needed to remain unclean; the tax collector because he was unclean. It is unclear whether their prayer at the Temple was during one of the three daily periods of corporate prayer or whether their prayers were private. My inclination is toward corporate prayer because it would have given the Pharisee a larger audience. Both men stood alone, which our culture would likely find admirable. As far as we know, the Pharisee was a good man and worthy of praise. The passage never questions that. There is no reason to believe that the tax collector was anything but corrupt and a traitor. This passage isn’t meant to teach us that the more spectacular the sin, the more impressive the repentance or that good works aren’t good works if we are unable to muster up some false humility. So what is the point?
Again, both men stand alone. If the Temple had happened to be serving coffee in the fellowship hall, both would likely have a hard time finding a place to sit. The Pharisee would need to avoid the unclean, and he would probably be the most pleased if he could sit at a table of his own in hopes that others of like mind would ask to sit with him. The tax collector would also sit alone, convinced that no one else would welcome him. He would remain alone unless the other tables filled up or some other riffraff chose to sit with him. Of course, Jesus would sit with the tax collector, but not as a way of endorsing his lifestyle. Jesus gravitated to need.
Both men have the same problem -- an inability to become part of the community of faith. Like many of Luke’s parables, the script is flipped to show the dangers of separation. Yes, we are called to repentance. Even moreso, we are called to community -- the Kingdom of God and the communion of saints. AMEN
Again, both men stand alone. If the Temple had happened to be serving coffee in the fellowship hall, both would likely have a hard time finding a place to sit. The Pharisee would need to avoid the unclean, and he would probably be the most pleased if he could sit at a table of his own in hopes that others of like mind would ask to sit with him. The tax collector would also sit alone, convinced that no one else would welcome him. He would remain alone unless the other tables filled up or some other riffraff chose to sit with him. Of course, Jesus would sit with the tax collector, but not as a way of endorsing his lifestyle. Jesus gravitated to need.
Both men have the same problem -- an inability to become part of the community of faith. Like many of Luke’s parables, the script is flipped to show the dangers of separation. Yes, we are called to repentance. Even moreso, we are called to community -- the Kingdom of God and the communion of saints. AMEN
Pentecost 17: October 2
I read the English Standard Version of today’s gospel because it makes more sense to me. In the NRSV, faith is the size of a mustard seed and the slave is worthless. In the first case, all that we get from the comparison is that they only need a little bit of faith. In the second, not only are the disciples slaves, they are also worthless -- an evaluation that seems a bit too harsh to get the point across.
So what does it mean to have faith like a mustard seed? Of course, it is a tiny seed that grows into a rather large plant, so Jesus is either making the point that they already have as much faith as they need or telling the disciples that they don’t even have a speck of faith. Whichever the case might be, that tiny amount of faith is enough to send a mulberry tree flying into the ocean. This seems odd because the disciples didn’t ask for a faith that would impress their friends and make them a hit at parties; they are responding to what Jesus had said a few verses earlier: “Temptations to sin are sure to come, but woe to the one through whom they come! It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were cast into the sea than that he should cause one of these little ones to sin.”
What other characteristics does a mustard seed have that make it a good metaphor for faith (and does it have to be a mustard seed, or did Jesus just happen to be standing where he could see mustard plants and mulberry trees?)? First of all, a seed has no power of its own. It is completely dependent on sun, soil, and rain. Secondly, it can only become what it is meant to become. If a mustard seed grows at all, it will become a mustard plant. Finally, it has a singleness of purpose; it doesn’t get distracted. Acknowledging our need for grace, having patience as we become what we are meant to become, and keeping our focus are all key aspects of healthy faith.
There is at least one thing that we and the disciples can do that mustard seeds cannot; we can practice our faith. I use practice in both senses -- as a rehearsal and as an action. If we want more faith, we need to use what we have. In the latter part of today’s reading, Jesus makes it clear that this is the most basic of expectations and that we shouldn’t expect to be rewarded for doing what we are supposed to do. We can also assume that Jesus isn’t making a tally mark every time that we hold a door for someone or let them go ahead of us in the checkout line. Even so, we are to continue to do the simplest acts of faith as a matter of course because that is what it means to be faithful. We often define faith as belief -- specifically belief in something that we can’t see or measure or prove, but it is more than that. Faith is action. Not a smattering of impressive actions over the course of a lifetime, but a lifetime spent in a cycle of action, reflection, and grace.
In order to live this way, we have to trust God. I don’t mean simply trusting that God has a plan that we can’t see. That knowledge is good, but it may not be enough to carry us through the inevitable tough times. We also have to leave the results to God. If we don’t we will most likely be discouraged much of the time as we attempt to live lives of faith among people who seem to range from apathetic to hostile. We need to develop the mindset that we serve others for our own good, not for theirs -- that our cups runneth over, and that the spillage is meant to be used and not wasted. AMEN
I read the English Standard Version of today’s gospel because it makes more sense to me. In the NRSV, faith is the size of a mustard seed and the slave is worthless. In the first case, all that we get from the comparison is that they only need a little bit of faith. In the second, not only are the disciples slaves, they are also worthless -- an evaluation that seems a bit too harsh to get the point across.
So what does it mean to have faith like a mustard seed? Of course, it is a tiny seed that grows into a rather large plant, so Jesus is either making the point that they already have as much faith as they need or telling the disciples that they don’t even have a speck of faith. Whichever the case might be, that tiny amount of faith is enough to send a mulberry tree flying into the ocean. This seems odd because the disciples didn’t ask for a faith that would impress their friends and make them a hit at parties; they are responding to what Jesus had said a few verses earlier: “Temptations to sin are sure to come, but woe to the one through whom they come! It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were cast into the sea than that he should cause one of these little ones to sin.”
What other characteristics does a mustard seed have that make it a good metaphor for faith (and does it have to be a mustard seed, or did Jesus just happen to be standing where he could see mustard plants and mulberry trees?)? First of all, a seed has no power of its own. It is completely dependent on sun, soil, and rain. Secondly, it can only become what it is meant to become. If a mustard seed grows at all, it will become a mustard plant. Finally, it has a singleness of purpose; it doesn’t get distracted. Acknowledging our need for grace, having patience as we become what we are meant to become, and keeping our focus are all key aspects of healthy faith.
There is at least one thing that we and the disciples can do that mustard seeds cannot; we can practice our faith. I use practice in both senses -- as a rehearsal and as an action. If we want more faith, we need to use what we have. In the latter part of today’s reading, Jesus makes it clear that this is the most basic of expectations and that we shouldn’t expect to be rewarded for doing what we are supposed to do. We can also assume that Jesus isn’t making a tally mark every time that we hold a door for someone or let them go ahead of us in the checkout line. Even so, we are to continue to do the simplest acts of faith as a matter of course because that is what it means to be faithful. We often define faith as belief -- specifically belief in something that we can’t see or measure or prove, but it is more than that. Faith is action. Not a smattering of impressive actions over the course of a lifetime, but a lifetime spent in a cycle of action, reflection, and grace.
In order to live this way, we have to trust God. I don’t mean simply trusting that God has a plan that we can’t see. That knowledge is good, but it may not be enough to carry us through the inevitable tough times. We also have to leave the results to God. If we don’t we will most likely be discouraged much of the time as we attempt to live lives of faith among people who seem to range from apathetic to hostile. We need to develop the mindset that we serve others for our own good, not for theirs -- that our cups runneth over, and that the spillage is meant to be used and not wasted. AMEN
Pentecost 14: September 11, 2022
The fifteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel consists of three parables: the two that comprise today’s gospel reading and the parable best-known as the Prodigal Son. In all three, something is lost and found, and rejoicing ensues. One thing notably missing from the parables is blame. The shepherd doesn’t grumble about the stupidity of the sheep, the woman doesn’t assume that her coin has been taken, and the father doesn’t dwell on the fact that the son’s misfortunes are clearly all due to poor choices. These portrayals of the nature of God show us that God is willing to accept responsibility for the loss; God continues to search without counting the cost -- no matter how unlikely a positive result might be; God rejoices in the burden of restoration, and God rejoices with the community at the success of restoration. Most importantly, God is not elusive. God is not even waiting patiently for us to come to our senses. God is actively seeking us.
One of the most striking things about today’s parables is a seeming lack of proportion. The intended audience is the Pharisees and scribes who have provided a steady buzz of disapproval at the company that Jesus has chosen to keep. One question that might be fruitful is, why do the sinners and tax collectors keep coming near to listen to Jesus? While there are examples, like Levi and Zaccheus, of repentance, we are not given the impression that Jesus converts a high percentage of those who come to hear him. One might even venture to guess that those who identify as religious and those identified as sinners responded to Jesus with about the same mixture of hope and disbelief. Think about how that plays out today. Is a person who has grown up in the church more likely to truly believe than someone who is hearing the gospel for the first time? Do we, as God-fearing, church-attending Christians, sometimes feel like the 99, left behind to fend for ourselves because Jesus refuses to give up on those who are hopelessly lost?
Alongside the persistence with which we are sought us is the rejoicing when one of us is restored. The explanation for both is that each and every one of us is a part of God -- we all bear the imprint of our creator. There is absolutely nothing that we can do to remove that imprint. The word “restoration” itself is rich. There are many ways of restoring things, ranging from slapping on a coat of paint to keeping the patina to restoring the item to its original state, to making it even better than new. I picture God as the restorer who examines every nut and bolt, every joint and surface, knowing that cost and time will result in enhancing our inner beauty -- God’s imprint.
The hardest part of this to believe? God rejoices in us even as we wander off into the weeds or bury ourselves in the couch cushions -- even when we actively use the free will that God has given us to live sinful lives. God will never stop searching, never stop loving us. These parables tell us that the key to salvation is not obedience, but joy. The legalism of the Pharisees had made them fearful and judgmental. Those named as sinners likely felt that they were too far gone into sin to possibly be able to satisfy God. Jesus is offering them the joy of knowing that they are a part of God and that God rejoices always in us, but especially when one of us returns to the fold, even temporarily. Once we partake in that joy, it just keeps growing as we see one another differently and as we anticipate the unimaginable joy of being in the presence of God. AMEN
The fifteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel consists of three parables: the two that comprise today’s gospel reading and the parable best-known as the Prodigal Son. In all three, something is lost and found, and rejoicing ensues. One thing notably missing from the parables is blame. The shepherd doesn’t grumble about the stupidity of the sheep, the woman doesn’t assume that her coin has been taken, and the father doesn’t dwell on the fact that the son’s misfortunes are clearly all due to poor choices. These portrayals of the nature of God show us that God is willing to accept responsibility for the loss; God continues to search without counting the cost -- no matter how unlikely a positive result might be; God rejoices in the burden of restoration, and God rejoices with the community at the success of restoration. Most importantly, God is not elusive. God is not even waiting patiently for us to come to our senses. God is actively seeking us.
One of the most striking things about today’s parables is a seeming lack of proportion. The intended audience is the Pharisees and scribes who have provided a steady buzz of disapproval at the company that Jesus has chosen to keep. One question that might be fruitful is, why do the sinners and tax collectors keep coming near to listen to Jesus? While there are examples, like Levi and Zaccheus, of repentance, we are not given the impression that Jesus converts a high percentage of those who come to hear him. One might even venture to guess that those who identify as religious and those identified as sinners responded to Jesus with about the same mixture of hope and disbelief. Think about how that plays out today. Is a person who has grown up in the church more likely to truly believe than someone who is hearing the gospel for the first time? Do we, as God-fearing, church-attending Christians, sometimes feel like the 99, left behind to fend for ourselves because Jesus refuses to give up on those who are hopelessly lost?
Alongside the persistence with which we are sought us is the rejoicing when one of us is restored. The explanation for both is that each and every one of us is a part of God -- we all bear the imprint of our creator. There is absolutely nothing that we can do to remove that imprint. The word “restoration” itself is rich. There are many ways of restoring things, ranging from slapping on a coat of paint to keeping the patina to restoring the item to its original state, to making it even better than new. I picture God as the restorer who examines every nut and bolt, every joint and surface, knowing that cost and time will result in enhancing our inner beauty -- God’s imprint.
The hardest part of this to believe? God rejoices in us even as we wander off into the weeds or bury ourselves in the couch cushions -- even when we actively use the free will that God has given us to live sinful lives. God will never stop searching, never stop loving us. These parables tell us that the key to salvation is not obedience, but joy. The legalism of the Pharisees had made them fearful and judgmental. Those named as sinners likely felt that they were too far gone into sin to possibly be able to satisfy God. Jesus is offering them the joy of knowing that they are a part of God and that God rejoices always in us, but especially when one of us returns to the fold, even temporarily. Once we partake in that joy, it just keeps growing as we see one another differently and as we anticipate the unimaginable joy of being in the presence of God. AMEN
Labor Day Midweek Service at Heritage Hill: August 31
Luke sets up this, Jesus' last documented visit to a synagogue, with Jesus telling huge crowds to repent, to turn around, to turn to God, and to give themselves to this life-giving way of following God while the religious officials become increasingly desperate to defend religion as they know it. It seems clear that the woman serves as an example of what he has been teaching. Like all of us, she is bent. It just happens that she is bent in a way that is obvious. Instead of healing her, Jesus sets her free. The results are the same, but Jesus framing it in this way connects it to the idea of keeping the Sabbath.
The point of the Sabbath for Jews was to remember that God brought them out of bondage in Egypt. To be fair, the leader of the synagogue is in a tough spot. He is defending what he sees as biblical law, and he is also trying to preserve the sense of decorum that he believes should be observed in a synagogue on the Sabbath. Why did Jesus need to cure this woman then and there? That brings us back to Jesus’ statement that he has set the woman free. He isn’t trying to overturn the biblical directive to honor the sabbath. He is simply interpreting it differently than the leader of the synagogue. For the leader to understand that is asking a lot. We all want to preserve what we think works in our faith and in our worship. Suggestions for change can feel more like attacks than possible better ways to do things. The leader desperately tries to keep the crowd on his side, but it turns out to be a losing battle as they join the woman in the freedom of worship. They have found the delight in the Lord that the earlier readings mentioned.
Luke uses this story to show his Gentile readers how they can honor the Sabbath. How does it apply to us? Many of us lament the days when nothing was open on Sundays and no activities were held. We might even believe that people would come to church if some of the more attractive options were taken away. While I wish that this was true, I doubt it. Jesus showed that the leader of the Synagogue did too little on the Sabbath. All of his time was spent keeping the rules and none was used to do the work that God wanted done. Today, we do too much on the Sabbath. There is simply no time in our schedules for anything else. Even those of us who come to church expect the services to be run efficiently so that they don’t take up our whole Sunday.
The thing is, remembering the Sabbath doesn’t need to have anything to do with church or even with Sunday. It is about, in the words of the confession on page 77, to let Christ have mercy on us, forgive us, renew us, and lead us, so that we may delight in his will and walk in his ways, to the glory of his holy name. If we view the Sabbath as a day that needs to be empty -- no businesses open, no sporting events, no work, a day to rest from our responsibilities, we will be disappointed. Instead, each of us needs to find Sabbath time that is full -- full of opportunities to see God in the world, to discern what God is calling us to do, and to grow ever closer to God.
So, here we are. Sweating in an old church when we could be somewhere air-conditioned -- face to face with the reality that it is our nature to follow the path of least resistance, even while we wax nostalgic about the good old days. It is a good reminder to look forward in faith, even as we honor the contributions of those who have gone before us. AMEN
Luke sets up this, Jesus' last documented visit to a synagogue, with Jesus telling huge crowds to repent, to turn around, to turn to God, and to give themselves to this life-giving way of following God while the religious officials become increasingly desperate to defend religion as they know it. It seems clear that the woman serves as an example of what he has been teaching. Like all of us, she is bent. It just happens that she is bent in a way that is obvious. Instead of healing her, Jesus sets her free. The results are the same, but Jesus framing it in this way connects it to the idea of keeping the Sabbath.
The point of the Sabbath for Jews was to remember that God brought them out of bondage in Egypt. To be fair, the leader of the synagogue is in a tough spot. He is defending what he sees as biblical law, and he is also trying to preserve the sense of decorum that he believes should be observed in a synagogue on the Sabbath. Why did Jesus need to cure this woman then and there? That brings us back to Jesus’ statement that he has set the woman free. He isn’t trying to overturn the biblical directive to honor the sabbath. He is simply interpreting it differently than the leader of the synagogue. For the leader to understand that is asking a lot. We all want to preserve what we think works in our faith and in our worship. Suggestions for change can feel more like attacks than possible better ways to do things. The leader desperately tries to keep the crowd on his side, but it turns out to be a losing battle as they join the woman in the freedom of worship. They have found the delight in the Lord that the earlier readings mentioned.
Luke uses this story to show his Gentile readers how they can honor the Sabbath. How does it apply to us? Many of us lament the days when nothing was open on Sundays and no activities were held. We might even believe that people would come to church if some of the more attractive options were taken away. While I wish that this was true, I doubt it. Jesus showed that the leader of the Synagogue did too little on the Sabbath. All of his time was spent keeping the rules and none was used to do the work that God wanted done. Today, we do too much on the Sabbath. There is simply no time in our schedules for anything else. Even those of us who come to church expect the services to be run efficiently so that they don’t take up our whole Sunday.
The thing is, remembering the Sabbath doesn’t need to have anything to do with church or even with Sunday. It is about, in the words of the confession on page 77, to let Christ have mercy on us, forgive us, renew us, and lead us, so that we may delight in his will and walk in his ways, to the glory of his holy name. If we view the Sabbath as a day that needs to be empty -- no businesses open, no sporting events, no work, a day to rest from our responsibilities, we will be disappointed. Instead, each of us needs to find Sabbath time that is full -- full of opportunities to see God in the world, to discern what God is calling us to do, and to grow ever closer to God.
So, here we are. Sweating in an old church when we could be somewhere air-conditioned -- face to face with the reality that it is our nature to follow the path of least resistance, even while we wax nostalgic about the good old days. It is a good reminder to look forward in faith, even as we honor the contributions of those who have gone before us. AMEN
Pentecost 12: August 28
Although they might seem to be simple lessons in table manners, the two parables in today’s gospel reading carry a familiar message about what it means to live a Christian life. Those who spend their lives contending for the place of honor will be humbled at the heavenly feast, and those who care for those who cannot repay them will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous. In the first parable, Jesus reminds us that we are all perpetual guests who are only at the table because of grace. Just as a sheep cannot become a shepherd, no Christian can become Christ. The second parable shows that even as guests, we can and should invite others to the table. We are being led to the twin revelations that everyone matters to God and that God’s grace and love are limitless, so there is no point to competing.
Instead of applying these parables to individuals, let’s consider how they might apply to churches. Many of us lament the loss of so many of the small churches, but we might ask why the remaining ones stay open. Is it a matter of pride -- the ability to say that we are maintaining something that our ancestors founded, preserving the unique beauty of our building, knowing that our funerals will be held in a familiar place? Are we willing to honestly assess how our congregations are participating in the resurrection of the righteous? Can any congregation of any size put anything ahead of the budget? In the same vein, how does the transformation of the church from the fellowship of believers into denominations that are further divided into branches that are further divided into congregations hold up in light of the parables? Aren’t we all competing to be the most righteous -- the closest to God?
These parables ask us to evaluate our priorities. What are we doing for ourselves and what are we doing for God? AMEN
Although they might seem to be simple lessons in table manners, the two parables in today’s gospel reading carry a familiar message about what it means to live a Christian life. Those who spend their lives contending for the place of honor will be humbled at the heavenly feast, and those who care for those who cannot repay them will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous. In the first parable, Jesus reminds us that we are all perpetual guests who are only at the table because of grace. Just as a sheep cannot become a shepherd, no Christian can become Christ. The second parable shows that even as guests, we can and should invite others to the table. We are being led to the twin revelations that everyone matters to God and that God’s grace and love are limitless, so there is no point to competing.
Instead of applying these parables to individuals, let’s consider how they might apply to churches. Many of us lament the loss of so many of the small churches, but we might ask why the remaining ones stay open. Is it a matter of pride -- the ability to say that we are maintaining something that our ancestors founded, preserving the unique beauty of our building, knowing that our funerals will be held in a familiar place? Are we willing to honestly assess how our congregations are participating in the resurrection of the righteous? Can any congregation of any size put anything ahead of the budget? In the same vein, how does the transformation of the church from the fellowship of believers into denominations that are further divided into branches that are further divided into congregations hold up in light of the parables? Aren’t we all competing to be the most righteous -- the closest to God?
These parables ask us to evaluate our priorities. What are we doing for ourselves and what are we doing for God? AMEN
Pentecost 10: August 14, 2022
In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is bluntly explaining the results of his ministry so far -- the present time. The responses to his message have ranged from befuddled adoration to hostility. Jesus has been moving toward the cross for some time, and it is clear that many people will ignore or reject his calls for repentance and continue down the path of sinfulness -- convincing themselves that they have things handled and that Jesus is asking for more than they need to give. Jesus longs for the fire that will burn away all of the things that people turn to for security instead of God, revealing the truth of his message.
How do we read the present time? Are we far enough down the right path that there is no real hurry to turn away from our perspective and see things through God’s eyes? Have we convinced ourselves that there will be no judgment -- that all that we need to do is to acknowledge that Jesus died for our sins in order to guarantee our place in the Kingdom? Maybe we just don’t care to give it much thought. After all, no human can possibly live as Jesus lived, so God must grade on a curve, and He is surely a generous grader.
If we don’t hear any thunder in the words of Christ, we are not listening, or we are only reading the parts that make us feel warm and fuzzy. Reading the present time doesn’t mean calling out all of the ways that the world seems to be hurtling toward chaos and destruction. It doesn’t involve scapegoating others for all that is wrong in the world. After all, we worship a scapegoat -- one who was singled out to die because he was a threat to power and because he spent his time with outcasts instead of building alliances with those who held earthly power.
We must take advantage of the time that we have to align ourselves with God’s priorities: justice, peace that does not involve threats or lies, and meeting God in the solidarity we share with our neighbor. AMEN
In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is bluntly explaining the results of his ministry so far -- the present time. The responses to his message have ranged from befuddled adoration to hostility. Jesus has been moving toward the cross for some time, and it is clear that many people will ignore or reject his calls for repentance and continue down the path of sinfulness -- convincing themselves that they have things handled and that Jesus is asking for more than they need to give. Jesus longs for the fire that will burn away all of the things that people turn to for security instead of God, revealing the truth of his message.
How do we read the present time? Are we far enough down the right path that there is no real hurry to turn away from our perspective and see things through God’s eyes? Have we convinced ourselves that there will be no judgment -- that all that we need to do is to acknowledge that Jesus died for our sins in order to guarantee our place in the Kingdom? Maybe we just don’t care to give it much thought. After all, no human can possibly live as Jesus lived, so God must grade on a curve, and He is surely a generous grader.
If we don’t hear any thunder in the words of Christ, we are not listening, or we are only reading the parts that make us feel warm and fuzzy. Reading the present time doesn’t mean calling out all of the ways that the world seems to be hurtling toward chaos and destruction. It doesn’t involve scapegoating others for all that is wrong in the world. After all, we worship a scapegoat -- one who was singled out to die because he was a threat to power and because he spent his time with outcasts instead of building alliances with those who held earthly power.
We must take advantage of the time that we have to align ourselves with God’s priorities: justice, peace that does not involve threats or lies, and meeting God in the solidarity we share with our neighbor. AMEN
Pentecost 9: August 7, 2022
The opening of today’s gospel reading picks up the thread from the first two readings: Some of our greatest fears -- the fear that we won’t have enough, the fear that we won’t be enough, the fear that someone might take what is rightfully ours, the fear that God won’t keep God’s promises -- can be dismissed. God does not reward us for how we live our lives, God’s gifts are given through grace and they are guaranteed. Our past mistakes will not be held against us and it is God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom, so we can sell our possessions and give alms. Almsgiving is what pulls this jam-packed passage together as it moves from fear to treasures to preparation.
Giving alms involves the distribution of wealth and other resources from those with more to those with less that is rooted in the understanding that all that we have is a gift from God. While we are not called to take a vow of poverty, we are called to do a regular accounting of our riches, or to “count our blessings,” if you will. I encourage you to make a list of all of the things that God has given you, to ask why God has given it to you, and to think about what you are doing with it. While part of this exercise might involve bank balances and check-writing, it is equally important to look at all of your other skills and resources and how they could be used to benefit others.
This was the logic behind the ancient practice of having landowners leave the edges of their fields so that the poor could harvest the remaining crop (gleaning). It reminded the landowners that the crop was a gift that God had given them, and it gave the poor a few meals and a sense of belonging. When we give of ourselves, we are building up the treasures that really matter.
Giving alms is also a form of preparation. Instead of building bigger barns, counting our money, or tracking our retirement funds, we are building community. This community will likely be there to help us meet our needs. More importantly, our focus on what we can give instead of what we can get or what others have leads us to live like Christ. This is what Jesus means when he says “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Selfishness keeps us from encountering God, while generosity makes God present to the giver through those who need and receive their gifts. Like the master in the story, Christ will surprise those who lead a servant life by serving them. Remember the lesson of the parable of the sheep and goats -- what is done for those in need is done for God. AMEN
The opening of today’s gospel reading picks up the thread from the first two readings: Some of our greatest fears -- the fear that we won’t have enough, the fear that we won’t be enough, the fear that someone might take what is rightfully ours, the fear that God won’t keep God’s promises -- can be dismissed. God does not reward us for how we live our lives, God’s gifts are given through grace and they are guaranteed. Our past mistakes will not be held against us and it is God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom, so we can sell our possessions and give alms. Almsgiving is what pulls this jam-packed passage together as it moves from fear to treasures to preparation.
Giving alms involves the distribution of wealth and other resources from those with more to those with less that is rooted in the understanding that all that we have is a gift from God. While we are not called to take a vow of poverty, we are called to do a regular accounting of our riches, or to “count our blessings,” if you will. I encourage you to make a list of all of the things that God has given you, to ask why God has given it to you, and to think about what you are doing with it. While part of this exercise might involve bank balances and check-writing, it is equally important to look at all of your other skills and resources and how they could be used to benefit others.
This was the logic behind the ancient practice of having landowners leave the edges of their fields so that the poor could harvest the remaining crop (gleaning). It reminded the landowners that the crop was a gift that God had given them, and it gave the poor a few meals and a sense of belonging. When we give of ourselves, we are building up the treasures that really matter.
Giving alms is also a form of preparation. Instead of building bigger barns, counting our money, or tracking our retirement funds, we are building community. This community will likely be there to help us meet our needs. More importantly, our focus on what we can give instead of what we can get or what others have leads us to live like Christ. This is what Jesus means when he says “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Selfishness keeps us from encountering God, while generosity makes God present to the giver through those who need and receive their gifts. Like the master in the story, Christ will surprise those who lead a servant life by serving them. Remember the lesson of the parable of the sheep and goats -- what is done for those in need is done for God. AMEN
Pentecost 8: July 31
Today’s gospel reading is what is commonly called the parable of the rich fool. Like Paul in the epistle reading, Jesus cautions against greed. When we put the three lessons together, it becomes clear that the lectionary wants to imagine ourselves on our deathbeds or standing before Christ on the day of judgment reflecting on our lives; did we spend our lives and use our God-given gifts wisely, or will the items piled on hayracks in our yards tell the story of a lives lived in the vain pursuit of earthly happiness?
While that is undoubtedly a vital message, I would like to focus on the brilliant simplicity of this story. Jesus begins, “The land of a rich man produced abundantly.” Even if the man did all of the work necessary to plant, tend and harvest the crop, the results still depend on good soil, timely rains, and favorable weather for harvest. He is clearly taking credit for something that he has been given as though he has earned it.
The man’s thought process is downright hilarious: “And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’” This man clearly fits this definition of fool: “a fool is an individual who makes choices as if God doesn’t exist and who lives as if God hasn’t spoken.” As a matter of fact, this man makes his decision as if no one else exists. It makes you wonder if he also plans to eat, drink, and be merry by himself, which is about as sad of a picture as I can imagine.
Orson Welles once said, “We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.” This is an apt description of life without God, where even love serves no greater purpose than to alleviate our loneliness. This is the recipe for the life of a fool.
Today’s gospel reading is what is commonly called the parable of the rich fool. Like Paul in the epistle reading, Jesus cautions against greed. When we put the three lessons together, it becomes clear that the lectionary wants to imagine ourselves on our deathbeds or standing before Christ on the day of judgment reflecting on our lives; did we spend our lives and use our God-given gifts wisely, or will the items piled on hayracks in our yards tell the story of a lives lived in the vain pursuit of earthly happiness?
While that is undoubtedly a vital message, I would like to focus on the brilliant simplicity of this story. Jesus begins, “The land of a rich man produced abundantly.” Even if the man did all of the work necessary to plant, tend and harvest the crop, the results still depend on good soil, timely rains, and favorable weather for harvest. He is clearly taking credit for something that he has been given as though he has earned it.
The man’s thought process is downright hilarious: “And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’” This man clearly fits this definition of fool: “a fool is an individual who makes choices as if God doesn’t exist and who lives as if God hasn’t spoken.” As a matter of fact, this man makes his decision as if no one else exists. It makes you wonder if he also plans to eat, drink, and be merry by himself, which is about as sad of a picture as I can imagine.
Orson Welles once said, “We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.” This is an apt description of life without God, where even love serves no greater purpose than to alleviate our loneliness. This is the recipe for the life of a fool.
Pentecost 6: June 17, 2022
Luke tells the story of Mary and Martha immediately after the parable of the Good Samaritan. At first glance, it seems like the two are polar opposites; one lifts up service, while the other seems to favor quiet contemplation. The transition isn’t as jarring as it might seem,though. The parable of the Good Samaritan ends with Jesus asking, “Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?” and the lawyer responding, “The one who showed him mercy.” And Jesus saying to him, “You go, and do likewise.” Notice that this isn’t a universal prescription for neighborliness. It brings to mind the joke about the Boy Scout who was determined to help a little old lady cross the street. When all other attempts failed, he finally picked her up and carried her to the other side of the street, set her down on the sidewalk, and left, having completed his good deed, never realizing that the lady had never wanted to cross the street in the first place.
Martha seems to have a bit of that Boy Scout in her as she distractedly scrambles to prepare a meal for Jesus without any regard for his needs. We can compare this to the Priest who walked past the bleeding man in the ditch, likely to spend time reflecting on the Word. Different situations call for different responses, and different people have different needs. Similarly, each of us has our own way of doing things -- our own disposition. At the elevator in Monte, I worked with two guys whose approach couldn’t have been more different. One launched himself headlong into whatever needed to be done with no regard for planning or gathering the proper tools and equipment. The other was a planner, always considering how to get the most work done with the least possible effort. The “right” way of doing things depended on the jobs. Sometimes just rolling up your sleeves and getting to work is better; other times planning and preparation pay off.
The story of Mary and Martha is more than a commentary on individual styles. It wasn’t Jesus who benefited from Martha taking the time to stop working and focus on the fact that the Lord was in her home -- it was Martha. And let’s face it, most of us spend far too much time with our minds pulled in multiple directions as we hustle to complete the task at hand. Our lives are filled with obligations, and much of our time is spent complaining about how nobody is helping us. This is not an endorsement by Jesus of either action or reflection. It is both a call for balance and a reminder that Jesus loves us all, both collectively and individually. As Mary Hinkle Shore put it, For Jesus, the one thing needed is to connect with the person in front of him, whether that person is a sister who is listening to his word, or one who is anxious and concerned about many things; whether that person is a lawyer trying to learn what the word “neighbor” means, or a tax collector so short he has to climb up a tree to see a traveling teacher, or a thief enduring the sentence of death by crucifixion. He loves each of these people and does not move on past them until they have what they need to love him back.
The entire time that I have been pondering this text, one image has been fixed in my mind: the painting, “The Angelus.” There is a small picture of it in your bulletin. The people in the picture are responding to the ringing of the bell from the steeple in the background. The bell was a call to prayer in the morning, at midday, and in the evening. Their prayer is printed in your bulletin as well, and we will pray it together. This intentional balance between the scramble for survival and the nourishment of the soul is no longer a part of our lives, and it is the better part. AMEN
Luke tells the story of Mary and Martha immediately after the parable of the Good Samaritan. At first glance, it seems like the two are polar opposites; one lifts up service, while the other seems to favor quiet contemplation. The transition isn’t as jarring as it might seem,though. The parable of the Good Samaritan ends with Jesus asking, “Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?” and the lawyer responding, “The one who showed him mercy.” And Jesus saying to him, “You go, and do likewise.” Notice that this isn’t a universal prescription for neighborliness. It brings to mind the joke about the Boy Scout who was determined to help a little old lady cross the street. When all other attempts failed, he finally picked her up and carried her to the other side of the street, set her down on the sidewalk, and left, having completed his good deed, never realizing that the lady had never wanted to cross the street in the first place.
Martha seems to have a bit of that Boy Scout in her as she distractedly scrambles to prepare a meal for Jesus without any regard for his needs. We can compare this to the Priest who walked past the bleeding man in the ditch, likely to spend time reflecting on the Word. Different situations call for different responses, and different people have different needs. Similarly, each of us has our own way of doing things -- our own disposition. At the elevator in Monte, I worked with two guys whose approach couldn’t have been more different. One launched himself headlong into whatever needed to be done with no regard for planning or gathering the proper tools and equipment. The other was a planner, always considering how to get the most work done with the least possible effort. The “right” way of doing things depended on the jobs. Sometimes just rolling up your sleeves and getting to work is better; other times planning and preparation pay off.
The story of Mary and Martha is more than a commentary on individual styles. It wasn’t Jesus who benefited from Martha taking the time to stop working and focus on the fact that the Lord was in her home -- it was Martha. And let’s face it, most of us spend far too much time with our minds pulled in multiple directions as we hustle to complete the task at hand. Our lives are filled with obligations, and much of our time is spent complaining about how nobody is helping us. This is not an endorsement by Jesus of either action or reflection. It is both a call for balance and a reminder that Jesus loves us all, both collectively and individually. As Mary Hinkle Shore put it, For Jesus, the one thing needed is to connect with the person in front of him, whether that person is a sister who is listening to his word, or one who is anxious and concerned about many things; whether that person is a lawyer trying to learn what the word “neighbor” means, or a tax collector so short he has to climb up a tree to see a traveling teacher, or a thief enduring the sentence of death by crucifixion. He loves each of these people and does not move on past them until they have what they need to love him back.
The entire time that I have been pondering this text, one image has been fixed in my mind: the painting, “The Angelus.” There is a small picture of it in your bulletin. The people in the picture are responding to the ringing of the bell from the steeple in the background. The bell was a call to prayer in the morning, at midday, and in the evening. Their prayer is printed in your bulletin as well, and we will pray it together. This intentional balance between the scramble for survival and the nourishment of the soul is no longer a part of our lives, and it is the better part. AMEN
Pentecost 5: July 10, 2022
Before we consider the parable of the Good Samaritan, let’s frame it with the account of the final judgment, the story of the sheep and goats, from Matthew 25. The whole story is verses 31-46; I will share only the conclusion here:
“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them saying, ‘Truly I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’”
Let’s begin with the disclaimer that it is highly unlikely that anyone should get through a lifetime without ever being of service to anyone else. Similarly, it is nearly impossible to imagine someone helping every needy person they encounter. For good measure, let’s include the message from Deuteronomy and Colossians: that we, like the lawyer, already know what God wants from us -- love God and love your neighbor. Our first response might, like the lawyers, be to get some sort of benchmark so that we know who we have to love and how much we have to love them. I’m sure that the priest who walked by the man in the ditch would like credit for the council meeting that he would have been late for if he would have stopped to help. I have no doubt that the Levite would argue that, if the man in the ditch had been a decoy, he could have been killed or injured himself, and then of what use would he be to the church or the world? It doesn’t take long to see that what God asks of us is highly impractical by the standards of the world, not to mention impossible for your average person (or even above-average people like the pastor and members of Saron and Baxter).
The main thing that I take from both parables is that there are only two kinds of people -- those who help and those who don’t. Another way two differentiate the groups is those who see God in others and those who don’t. Scripture clearly tells us that God wants to break down all boundaries so that all can live in the Kingdom. This means that every person is valuable in the eyes of God. We have all been all of the characters in the story at various times in our lives: The traveler who, perhaps because he carelessly chose to travel a dangerous road alone, ends up in a ditch -- desperate and with no identity other than victim. The priest or the Levite who, although they know that they really should help, walk by -- likely reassuring themselves that they are in the business of saving souls and keeping the temple open, not in taking risks and getting down into the messiness of life. The Samaritan who does the right thing without even thinking about it. As we lived those roles, our idea of neighborly responsibility likely fluctuated a bit as well.
In the end, it is all about the eyes. We are to see God in others, and we are to see others through the eyes of God. To understand this kind of seeing, think about the difference between hearing and listening. Somehow, we need to see the needs of others as opportunities for service, not as distractions and impositions. In turn, this changes how we see ourselves and our role. Finally, it is the only way that the myth of insufficiency can be overcome -- the idea that there is not enough, so we must protect what we have. This can only happen as a movement, and a movement must start small. To paraphrase Magaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed Christians can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” AMEN
Before we consider the parable of the Good Samaritan, let’s frame it with the account of the final judgment, the story of the sheep and goats, from Matthew 25. The whole story is verses 31-46; I will share only the conclusion here:
“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them saying, ‘Truly I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’”
Let’s begin with the disclaimer that it is highly unlikely that anyone should get through a lifetime without ever being of service to anyone else. Similarly, it is nearly impossible to imagine someone helping every needy person they encounter. For good measure, let’s include the message from Deuteronomy and Colossians: that we, like the lawyer, already know what God wants from us -- love God and love your neighbor. Our first response might, like the lawyers, be to get some sort of benchmark so that we know who we have to love and how much we have to love them. I’m sure that the priest who walked by the man in the ditch would like credit for the council meeting that he would have been late for if he would have stopped to help. I have no doubt that the Levite would argue that, if the man in the ditch had been a decoy, he could have been killed or injured himself, and then of what use would he be to the church or the world? It doesn’t take long to see that what God asks of us is highly impractical by the standards of the world, not to mention impossible for your average person (or even above-average people like the pastor and members of Saron and Baxter).
The main thing that I take from both parables is that there are only two kinds of people -- those who help and those who don’t. Another way two differentiate the groups is those who see God in others and those who don’t. Scripture clearly tells us that God wants to break down all boundaries so that all can live in the Kingdom. This means that every person is valuable in the eyes of God. We have all been all of the characters in the story at various times in our lives: The traveler who, perhaps because he carelessly chose to travel a dangerous road alone, ends up in a ditch -- desperate and with no identity other than victim. The priest or the Levite who, although they know that they really should help, walk by -- likely reassuring themselves that they are in the business of saving souls and keeping the temple open, not in taking risks and getting down into the messiness of life. The Samaritan who does the right thing without even thinking about it. As we lived those roles, our idea of neighborly responsibility likely fluctuated a bit as well.
In the end, it is all about the eyes. We are to see God in others, and we are to see others through the eyes of God. To understand this kind of seeing, think about the difference between hearing and listening. Somehow, we need to see the needs of others as opportunities for service, not as distractions and impositions. In turn, this changes how we see ourselves and our role. Finally, it is the only way that the myth of insufficiency can be overcome -- the idea that there is not enough, so we must protect what we have. This can only happen as a movement, and a movement must start small. To paraphrase Magaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed Christians can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” AMEN
Pentecost 2: June 19, 2022
The verse immediately preceding today’s gospel reading is: He said to them, “Where is your faith?” They were afraid and amazed, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?” These two questions provide a framework not only for this story and Luke’s gospel, but also for constructing our own understanding of what it means to be Christian. While I find both questions fascinating, I will focus on the latter this morning.
It can and has been said that the purpose of the entirety of scripture is to answer the question, “Who is Jesus?” In the encounter with the Gerasene demoniac, we learn that Jesus is more than capable of defeating a legion of demons, that Jesus doesn’t need an invitation to heal, that he isn’t concerned with the status of the person who needs healing, and that many people (not to mention evil spirits) would prefer that Jesus leave them alone. That last one seems the most surprising, although we have certainly heard that idea before. Many people prefer darkness to light; you might say that they prefer the devil they know to the savior they don’t.
The end of the story gives us a glimpse of a reason that this might be. When the people who have been told by the swineherds what has happened come to see for themselves, they find the restored man, clothed and sane, sitting at the feet of Jesus. This terrifies them because it doesn’t fit their narrative of how the world works. The demoniac, alien and powerful, was a way for them to see and separate themselves from evil. Sometimes it was in chains, other times roaming the graveyard, but it had no meaningful connection to their own lives. To accept the man into their community would be a constant reminder of just how like the demoniac they all were.
The man wants Jesus to finish rescuing him. Surely he wasn’t healed only to be thrust into the community that had driven him out? How could he ever hope to be known as anything other than the crazy guy who used to run naked through the cemetery? Who would want to live next to him, much less be his friend? Even worse, they would likely blame him for costing them their livelihoods through the drowning of the pigs. It would be so much easier to share his story with people who hadn’t known him when he was possessed. Instead, “Jesus sent him away, saying, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.’”
This description of preaching is at the heart of Luke’s Gospel: hearing what Jesus has done, we hear what God is accomplishing in the coming of the kingdom. Notice that there is no pattern to what Jesus asks of those who have been healed: some are told to say nothing, while others are told to tell everyone. Some are told to go to the priests, while others are given no instructions at all.
And that is the other side of the question of who Jesus is; what is Jesus asking of us? A fellow pastor says that our job is to learn about Jesus so that we can be as much like Jesus as we can. An aspect of that highlighted by today’s readings is that Jesus is not a respecter of the boundaries imposed by humans. He sees us all as worthy of salvation. On the other hand, salvation will not be forced upon us. AMEN
The verse immediately preceding today’s gospel reading is: He said to them, “Where is your faith?” They were afraid and amazed, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?” These two questions provide a framework not only for this story and Luke’s gospel, but also for constructing our own understanding of what it means to be Christian. While I find both questions fascinating, I will focus on the latter this morning.
It can and has been said that the purpose of the entirety of scripture is to answer the question, “Who is Jesus?” In the encounter with the Gerasene demoniac, we learn that Jesus is more than capable of defeating a legion of demons, that Jesus doesn’t need an invitation to heal, that he isn’t concerned with the status of the person who needs healing, and that many people (not to mention evil spirits) would prefer that Jesus leave them alone. That last one seems the most surprising, although we have certainly heard that idea before. Many people prefer darkness to light; you might say that they prefer the devil they know to the savior they don’t.
The end of the story gives us a glimpse of a reason that this might be. When the people who have been told by the swineherds what has happened come to see for themselves, they find the restored man, clothed and sane, sitting at the feet of Jesus. This terrifies them because it doesn’t fit their narrative of how the world works. The demoniac, alien and powerful, was a way for them to see and separate themselves from evil. Sometimes it was in chains, other times roaming the graveyard, but it had no meaningful connection to their own lives. To accept the man into their community would be a constant reminder of just how like the demoniac they all were.
The man wants Jesus to finish rescuing him. Surely he wasn’t healed only to be thrust into the community that had driven him out? How could he ever hope to be known as anything other than the crazy guy who used to run naked through the cemetery? Who would want to live next to him, much less be his friend? Even worse, they would likely blame him for costing them their livelihoods through the drowning of the pigs. It would be so much easier to share his story with people who hadn’t known him when he was possessed. Instead, “Jesus sent him away, saying, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.’”
This description of preaching is at the heart of Luke’s Gospel: hearing what Jesus has done, we hear what God is accomplishing in the coming of the kingdom. Notice that there is no pattern to what Jesus asks of those who have been healed: some are told to say nothing, while others are told to tell everyone. Some are told to go to the priests, while others are given no instructions at all.
And that is the other side of the question of who Jesus is; what is Jesus asking of us? A fellow pastor says that our job is to learn about Jesus so that we can be as much like Jesus as we can. An aspect of that highlighted by today’s readings is that Jesus is not a respecter of the boundaries imposed by humans. He sees us all as worthy of salvation. On the other hand, salvation will not be forced upon us. AMEN
Holy Trinity: June 12
If you are hoping to be led to a deeper understanding of the Holy Trinity this morning, prepare to be disappointed. Although the reading from Romans mentions all three members of the Trinity, it is not an explanation of God’s essence -- probably because Paul cared more about God’s actions than he cared about explaining theological concepts. In the first two chapters of Romans, Paul demonstrated that sin has power over everyone, whether Jew or Gentile, so everyone has fallen short of the glory of God. In Romans three, Paul explains that God has saved us anyway through the righteousness of Christ. Near the end of that section, Paul says, “ Then what becomes of boasting? It is excluded.” Today’s reading is the beginning of the section of Romans that explains how we are to respond to our undeserved justification.
There are different ways to understand justification. I prefer to see it as being restored into a proper relationship with God, and that’s where the Trinity comes in. Whether we understand it completely or not (and I don’t), it is through the interrelatedness of God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and humanity that grace works. Did you notice that Paul gives us an opportunity to boast here? In fact, we can boast both in our hope and in our suffering. These two seem opposed to each other, though. If we boast that God will take care of us, others will certainly point out that bad things continue to happen to us. Paul isn’t rejoicing because he suffers; he is rejoicing in the midst of suffering. Again, this seems counter-intuitive like banging our heads against the wall because stopping feels so good.
Rather than rejoicing, it makes more sense to me to understand this passage to mean that no amount of suffering is adequate to overcome our hope in God, just as no sin that we commit will make God stop loving us. While this is still more easily said than done, the idea of latching on to the fact that God will never abandon us is certainly cause for joy (although we can’t boast about that either, since God will never abandon any of us). Maybe instead of boasting, we are simply called to share this fact on a more regular basis. Instead of only mentioning God when we feel blessed or telling others that their suffering is a part of God’s indecipherable plan, we need to testify to the fact that God’s presence is as eternal as God’s power.
So, God is present always and everywhere. This is made possible somehow through the salvific work of Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit. That means that it is not a matter of those of us who have been found worthy walking around with crowns of flames or halos. The light shines on all of us and it unites all of us. Just as Paul pointed out that we are inseparable in our sinfulness and humanity, he points out that we are inseparable because we are all called into a right relationship with God. AMEN
If you are hoping to be led to a deeper understanding of the Holy Trinity this morning, prepare to be disappointed. Although the reading from Romans mentions all three members of the Trinity, it is not an explanation of God’s essence -- probably because Paul cared more about God’s actions than he cared about explaining theological concepts. In the first two chapters of Romans, Paul demonstrated that sin has power over everyone, whether Jew or Gentile, so everyone has fallen short of the glory of God. In Romans three, Paul explains that God has saved us anyway through the righteousness of Christ. Near the end of that section, Paul says, “ Then what becomes of boasting? It is excluded.” Today’s reading is the beginning of the section of Romans that explains how we are to respond to our undeserved justification.
There are different ways to understand justification. I prefer to see it as being restored into a proper relationship with God, and that’s where the Trinity comes in. Whether we understand it completely or not (and I don’t), it is through the interrelatedness of God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and humanity that grace works. Did you notice that Paul gives us an opportunity to boast here? In fact, we can boast both in our hope and in our suffering. These two seem opposed to each other, though. If we boast that God will take care of us, others will certainly point out that bad things continue to happen to us. Paul isn’t rejoicing because he suffers; he is rejoicing in the midst of suffering. Again, this seems counter-intuitive like banging our heads against the wall because stopping feels so good.
Rather than rejoicing, it makes more sense to me to understand this passage to mean that no amount of suffering is adequate to overcome our hope in God, just as no sin that we commit will make God stop loving us. While this is still more easily said than done, the idea of latching on to the fact that God will never abandon us is certainly cause for joy (although we can’t boast about that either, since God will never abandon any of us). Maybe instead of boasting, we are simply called to share this fact on a more regular basis. Instead of only mentioning God when we feel blessed or telling others that their suffering is a part of God’s indecipherable plan, we need to testify to the fact that God’s presence is as eternal as God’s power.
So, God is present always and everywhere. This is made possible somehow through the salvific work of Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit. That means that it is not a matter of those of us who have been found worthy walking around with crowns of flames or halos. The light shines on all of us and it unites all of us. Just as Paul pointed out that we are inseparable in our sinfulness and humanity, he points out that we are inseparable because we are all called into a right relationship with God. AMEN
Pentecost: June 5, 2022
At this point in Acts, Jesus has ascended, Judas has been replaced, and the crowds have arrived in Jerusalem for Pentecost. In addition to the Apostles, Mary, mother of Jesus, some other women, and Jesus’ brothers are part of a group of 120 people who are followers of Jesus. This is the group that is together when the Holy Spirit arrives. It is not an easy scene to describe: the sound is like a violent rush of wind, and the tongues that appear are like fire. All of them then begin to speak other languages. It must have been more dramatic than it sounds because it drew a crowd, and a part of that crowd suspected that those in the house had been drinking. Perhaps even more surprisingly, the crowd stayed to listen to a sermon, and 3,000 of them were baptized.
The lectionary doesn’t take us through Peter’s entire sermon, which is summed up: “And he testified with many other arguments and exhorted them, saying, ‘Save yourselves from this corrupt generation.’” When we look at Pentecost as the undoing of the curse of Babel -- the uniting by the Spirit what had been divided by God -- we remain at the very beginning of the history of the church. Yes, the new believers seem to have stayed in Jerusalem and become part of a rapidly-growing group that soon drew the attention of the religious authorities. In fact, it is persecution by the religious and government authorities that drives all of the believers but the apostles out of Jerusalem. Along with the conversion of Saul from prosecutor to believer, this is when the converted moved from saving themselves to spreading the Word.
The church was never meant to be uniform and centralized. There is a reason that Acts doesn’t discuss negotiations on creedal statements or the proper color of vestments for different liturgical seasons. Following Jesus is based on love, the most universal of principals. When those who heard Peter’s sermon became convinced that the Day of the Lord had finally come, that Jesus was indeed the Messiah, they asked Peter what they should do. Peter replied, ““Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.” First and foremost, we are called to respond to the promise. AMEN
At this point in Acts, Jesus has ascended, Judas has been replaced, and the crowds have arrived in Jerusalem for Pentecost. In addition to the Apostles, Mary, mother of Jesus, some other women, and Jesus’ brothers are part of a group of 120 people who are followers of Jesus. This is the group that is together when the Holy Spirit arrives. It is not an easy scene to describe: the sound is like a violent rush of wind, and the tongues that appear are like fire. All of them then begin to speak other languages. It must have been more dramatic than it sounds because it drew a crowd, and a part of that crowd suspected that those in the house had been drinking. Perhaps even more surprisingly, the crowd stayed to listen to a sermon, and 3,000 of them were baptized.
The lectionary doesn’t take us through Peter’s entire sermon, which is summed up: “And he testified with many other arguments and exhorted them, saying, ‘Save yourselves from this corrupt generation.’” When we look at Pentecost as the undoing of the curse of Babel -- the uniting by the Spirit what had been divided by God -- we remain at the very beginning of the history of the church. Yes, the new believers seem to have stayed in Jerusalem and become part of a rapidly-growing group that soon drew the attention of the religious authorities. In fact, it is persecution by the religious and government authorities that drives all of the believers but the apostles out of Jerusalem. Along with the conversion of Saul from prosecutor to believer, this is when the converted moved from saving themselves to spreading the Word.
The church was never meant to be uniform and centralized. There is a reason that Acts doesn’t discuss negotiations on creedal statements or the proper color of vestments for different liturgical seasons. Following Jesus is based on love, the most universal of principals. When those who heard Peter’s sermon became convinced that the Day of the Lord had finally come, that Jesus was indeed the Messiah, they asked Peter what they should do. Peter replied, ““Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.” First and foremost, we are called to respond to the promise. AMEN
Easter 6, May 22
I have struggled with the story of the paralyzed man at the pool all week. More accurately, I have struggled with the idea of miracles all week. A young father who was watching his 18-month-old daughter die told me that several people had told him that they were praying and that they were sure that there would be a miracle. The problem with miracles is that they are unpredictable. The only thing that I know for sure is that they are not merit-based. The healing in this week’s gospel did little to help me understand. Why would Jesus heal one seemingly random man when he could just have easily healed the multitude? When Jesus spoke to the man later, why did he say, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” when he told the disciples that the man born blind was not so because of sin, but so that they could witness the glory of God? Speaking of that, did that man have to live as a blind beggar for years just so Jesus could heal him? If John’s gospel shares just a few of the countless miracles that Jesus performed so that those who hear them will come to believe, why were there so few believers at the end of John?
I read the first twelve chapters of John, the section called the book of signs, to try to find a pattern that made sense -- a connection between signs and faith. I found that many people followed Jesus because of the miracles that he performed and stopped following Jesus when he asked something of them. I learned that many of the religious officials came to believe in Jesus, but they were afraid to admit it because they didn’t want to lose the lifestyle to which they had become accustomed. On the other hand, many acknowledged Jesus’ power, but declared it corrupt because it was used on the Sabbath or because he claimed to be the Son of God.
The best information that I found was in John 6, after the feeding of the 5,000. I remembered that Jesus had left because the people wanted to make him king, but I had forgotten what happened on the other side of the lake after Jesus walked on the water. Many of those who had been fed had figured out where Jesus was going, and they were waiting for him. Almost immediately, he said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” A bit later, he explains to them that he is not the provider of bread -- he is the bread. This is part of the most difficult teaching for people to hear, and it causes many of his followers to leave.
And that is where we are today. We frequently ask God for miracles -- either for ourselves or for others. After all, there is no doubt that God has the power to perform miracles. It is all too easy to despair when the miracle doesn’t occur, to conclude that our prayers were not answered. We might fall back on “logic” -- if I had believed harder, if I had prayed more, the miracle would have occurred. How could a God who loves us let us suffer? In a sense, we are still asking Jesus to prove himself -- to earn our faith. This is the point that we must get past, and it is the most difficult task in the formation of our faith. AMEN
I have struggled with the story of the paralyzed man at the pool all week. More accurately, I have struggled with the idea of miracles all week. A young father who was watching his 18-month-old daughter die told me that several people had told him that they were praying and that they were sure that there would be a miracle. The problem with miracles is that they are unpredictable. The only thing that I know for sure is that they are not merit-based. The healing in this week’s gospel did little to help me understand. Why would Jesus heal one seemingly random man when he could just have easily healed the multitude? When Jesus spoke to the man later, why did he say, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” when he told the disciples that the man born blind was not so because of sin, but so that they could witness the glory of God? Speaking of that, did that man have to live as a blind beggar for years just so Jesus could heal him? If John’s gospel shares just a few of the countless miracles that Jesus performed so that those who hear them will come to believe, why were there so few believers at the end of John?
I read the first twelve chapters of John, the section called the book of signs, to try to find a pattern that made sense -- a connection between signs and faith. I found that many people followed Jesus because of the miracles that he performed and stopped following Jesus when he asked something of them. I learned that many of the religious officials came to believe in Jesus, but they were afraid to admit it because they didn’t want to lose the lifestyle to which they had become accustomed. On the other hand, many acknowledged Jesus’ power, but declared it corrupt because it was used on the Sabbath or because he claimed to be the Son of God.
The best information that I found was in John 6, after the feeding of the 5,000. I remembered that Jesus had left because the people wanted to make him king, but I had forgotten what happened on the other side of the lake after Jesus walked on the water. Many of those who had been fed had figured out where Jesus was going, and they were waiting for him. Almost immediately, he said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” A bit later, he explains to them that he is not the provider of bread -- he is the bread. This is part of the most difficult teaching for people to hear, and it causes many of his followers to leave.
And that is where we are today. We frequently ask God for miracles -- either for ourselves or for others. After all, there is no doubt that God has the power to perform miracles. It is all too easy to despair when the miracle doesn’t occur, to conclude that our prayers were not answered. We might fall back on “logic” -- if I had believed harder, if I had prayed more, the miracle would have occurred. How could a God who loves us let us suffer? In a sense, we are still asking Jesus to prove himself -- to earn our faith. This is the point that we must get past, and it is the most difficult task in the formation of our faith. AMEN
Easter 5: May 15
Jesus gives his new commandment between Judas leaving the room and Peter swearing that he will never deny Jesus. It is also the second of three parallel instructions: “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you.” “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” and “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.”
In John’s gospel, this is the beginning of the farewell discourse, where Jesus tells the disciples who they are and how they should live in this world. It is also an effort by John to explain to his followers who they are and how they should live in this world. Logically, we should be looking for the answers to the same questions. Who are we? Judas has just left the room to betray Jesus. Peter, in spite of swearing that he would die before betraying Jesus, is about to do so three times. Like the disciples, we are clearly not equipped to succeed if salvation is based on merit. Even so, God loves us enough to have sent his Son to die for us.
So if it isn’t about merit -- if we can’t possibly earn or learn our way into eternal life -- if we are bound to fail more often and more spectacularly than we are to succeed, how are we supposed to live in this world? It can’t be about preparing for an eventual reward. Instead, we are called to love one another. The first part of that love must have to do with forgiving and supporting each other. After all, Jesus fed both Peter and Judas and even washed their feet. Speaking of that, the ways that we show love to one another are supposed to cover the whole spectrum, from sharing a kind word or a drink of water to being willing to give our lives for one another. It is not a single, spectacular act, but an orientation of our lives toward service and sacrifice that will mark us as followers of Christ. AMEN
Jesus gives his new commandment between Judas leaving the room and Peter swearing that he will never deny Jesus. It is also the second of three parallel instructions: “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you.” “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” and “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.”
In John’s gospel, this is the beginning of the farewell discourse, where Jesus tells the disciples who they are and how they should live in this world. It is also an effort by John to explain to his followers who they are and how they should live in this world. Logically, we should be looking for the answers to the same questions. Who are we? Judas has just left the room to betray Jesus. Peter, in spite of swearing that he would die before betraying Jesus, is about to do so three times. Like the disciples, we are clearly not equipped to succeed if salvation is based on merit. Even so, God loves us enough to have sent his Son to die for us.
So if it isn’t about merit -- if we can’t possibly earn or learn our way into eternal life -- if we are bound to fail more often and more spectacularly than we are to succeed, how are we supposed to live in this world? It can’t be about preparing for an eventual reward. Instead, we are called to love one another. The first part of that love must have to do with forgiving and supporting each other. After all, Jesus fed both Peter and Judas and even washed their feet. Speaking of that, the ways that we show love to one another are supposed to cover the whole spectrum, from sharing a kind word or a drink of water to being willing to give our lives for one another. It is not a single, spectacular act, but an orientation of our lives toward service and sacrifice that will mark us as followers of Christ. AMEN
Easter 4, May 8
The chapters preceding today’s gospel reading are full of questions. How can Jesus be such a wise teacher if he has never studied? If the religious officials have already decided that Jesus should be killed, why was he allowed to teach openly? How can Jesus be the messiah if he is from Galilee, not Bethlehem? The essential question is where Jesus’ power comes from. Earlier, Jesus said: “My teaching is not mine, but him who sent me. If anyone’s will is to do God’s will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority” (John 7:16-17 ESV). Today’s reading ends with an even clearer statement: “My father and I are one.” This is simply too much to take, and the religious officials take up stones to kill Jesus. They want to make it clear that it is not the works that Jesus does that make him dangerous -- it is his blasphemous claim to be the Son of God. The line that hung me up was “but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” There is a tension throughout John’s gospel between God’s initiative, the desire to bring all of the sheep into his flock, and human responsibility. What does it mean to believe, to recognize the shepherd’s voice, to follow?
In my struggle to understand, I turned to Psalm 23. Because I have so often used this Psalm at prayer services and funerals, I tend to think of it as a picture of the result of a life of faith. Instead of clouds and harps, there are green pastures, still waters, safety, and, of course, abundant food and drink. With a new question in mind and a bit of probing, the psalm opened up with new possibilities. It starts with contextualizing the roles of sheep and shepherd in the psalmist’s time and place. Right now, I am looking forward to opening the pasture gates and letting my sheep feast on the lush grass that a bit of heat will bring. If I have the right number of sheep in the pasture and we get enough rain, they should be able to stay there all summer. On the other hand, the sheep in the psalm will be moving almost constantly in order to find enough grass and water to survive.
Viewed in this context, “I shall not want” doesn’t mean that I already have everything that I need, so I can spend the rest of my life lying comfortably in the pasture. Instead, a life of faith is a life of movement along the paths of righteousness. This is not a straight path, but it is not a new path either. In fact, it is more accurately a rut worn by the feet of the believers who have gone before me. Like them, I will follow the path both next to still waters and green pastures and also through the valley of the shadow of death -- trusting that the shepherd knows the way and that there isn’t a way to avoid trouble and danger. My trust is increased as I find that not only is the shepherd leading me, the goodness and mercy of the Lord are also pursuing me. Finally, even the idea of dwelling in the house of the Lord forever is dynamic, not static. It is better interpreted, “I will continually return to God’s presence, my whole life long.”
We know what God wants. He sent his son not to condemn, but to save. All that we are called to do is to belong to him -- to believe. It seems impossible to quantify or measure belief, but I did encounter a good definition of unbelief as the notion that God is not good. In the gospel, the religious officials refuse to believe that God is so good that he would accept them or anyone else without their merit. For others, it may be difficult to believe that God is good enough to forgive them, to care about them, to love them. We also struggle to believe that the humble rites of baptism and communion are signs of glory. Instead, we look for signs of glory and power to assure us that God is on our side. Once again, the command is simple: listen and follow. AMEN
The chapters preceding today’s gospel reading are full of questions. How can Jesus be such a wise teacher if he has never studied? If the religious officials have already decided that Jesus should be killed, why was he allowed to teach openly? How can Jesus be the messiah if he is from Galilee, not Bethlehem? The essential question is where Jesus’ power comes from. Earlier, Jesus said: “My teaching is not mine, but him who sent me. If anyone’s will is to do God’s will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority” (John 7:16-17 ESV). Today’s reading ends with an even clearer statement: “My father and I are one.” This is simply too much to take, and the religious officials take up stones to kill Jesus. They want to make it clear that it is not the works that Jesus does that make him dangerous -- it is his blasphemous claim to be the Son of God. The line that hung me up was “but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” There is a tension throughout John’s gospel between God’s initiative, the desire to bring all of the sheep into his flock, and human responsibility. What does it mean to believe, to recognize the shepherd’s voice, to follow?
In my struggle to understand, I turned to Psalm 23. Because I have so often used this Psalm at prayer services and funerals, I tend to think of it as a picture of the result of a life of faith. Instead of clouds and harps, there are green pastures, still waters, safety, and, of course, abundant food and drink. With a new question in mind and a bit of probing, the psalm opened up with new possibilities. It starts with contextualizing the roles of sheep and shepherd in the psalmist’s time and place. Right now, I am looking forward to opening the pasture gates and letting my sheep feast on the lush grass that a bit of heat will bring. If I have the right number of sheep in the pasture and we get enough rain, they should be able to stay there all summer. On the other hand, the sheep in the psalm will be moving almost constantly in order to find enough grass and water to survive.
Viewed in this context, “I shall not want” doesn’t mean that I already have everything that I need, so I can spend the rest of my life lying comfortably in the pasture. Instead, a life of faith is a life of movement along the paths of righteousness. This is not a straight path, but it is not a new path either. In fact, it is more accurately a rut worn by the feet of the believers who have gone before me. Like them, I will follow the path both next to still waters and green pastures and also through the valley of the shadow of death -- trusting that the shepherd knows the way and that there isn’t a way to avoid trouble and danger. My trust is increased as I find that not only is the shepherd leading me, the goodness and mercy of the Lord are also pursuing me. Finally, even the idea of dwelling in the house of the Lord forever is dynamic, not static. It is better interpreted, “I will continually return to God’s presence, my whole life long.”
We know what God wants. He sent his son not to condemn, but to save. All that we are called to do is to belong to him -- to believe. It seems impossible to quantify or measure belief, but I did encounter a good definition of unbelief as the notion that God is not good. In the gospel, the religious officials refuse to believe that God is so good that he would accept them or anyone else without their merit. For others, it may be difficult to believe that God is good enough to forgive them, to care about them, to love them. We also struggle to believe that the humble rites of baptism and communion are signs of glory. Instead, we look for signs of glory and power to assure us that God is on our side. Once again, the command is simple: listen and follow. AMEN
Easter 3: May 1
The most important thing that I learned this week is that Saul did not become Paul on the road to Damascus or at any other time. Paul’s conversion was a redirection accomplished when he was shown the truth and learned the Way. What a wonderful turn of phrase -- those who belong to the Way. When we last saw the disciples, they were still huddled in the upper room even though Jesus had breathed the Holy Spirit into them and told them, “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” It seems that they stayed in Jerusalem until the festival of Unleavened Bread, which is the week that includes the 24-hours of Passover, ended. They left when the other pilgrims left. It was, after all, the way that they had always done things.
Peter has decided to go fishing. This is not a vacation or a diversion, but a return to the way of life that had been interrupted by the three years spent with Jesus. What he fails to understand is that there is no escaping his calling because Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. One can imagine the feeling of comfort in the routine of casting the net on the lake where he had grown up dissipating and giving way to doubt as the night passed by without a single fish. Having failed as a disciple and now as a fisherman, Peter had truly lost his way.
Perhaps that is why he and the other disciples accept the unsolicited advice to cast the net on the right side of the boat, or perhaps they sensed a familiarity in the greeting from the dimly-seen visitor. My favorite translation comes from William Barclay, a Scot: “Have you caught anything, lads?” Whatever the reason, the net is filled to bursting, Jesus is recognized, and the disciples head to shore. Even then, when Jesus offers them breakfast, they stay back until Jesus comes to them, takes the bread and fish, and gives it to them. Even after Peter (who Jesus addresses not as Peter, but as Simon, son of John) repents and receives his commission, and he and the others respond to Jesus’ call to “Follow Me,” we wonder how long it will be until they again lose their way.
And that is where we are. Like the disciples, we have failed Jesus and ourselves in countless ways. Instead of being followers of the Way, we have done things our own way. We want God to fulfill a function in our lives -- to keep us safe, to help us succeed, to punch our ticket to Heaven, but we don’t acknowledge God as the source of our lives. We are willing to say that we love God, but we struggle with the fact that professing our love for God without also hearing the call to love one another is not an option.
I talked last week about how hard faith is and how hard life is. Among the responses I received was this from a friend who works with people struggling with mental health and addiction: When I see our staff or myself doing my best, we are radically present. We first acknowledge the suffering, give love, and ask questions second. We help them see that they are not alone and they are cared for. We also accept them as they are, and by showing them this, we help them accept themselves and the things they cannot face.” This is the kind of love that we all need and the kind of love that we all need to give. AMEN
The most important thing that I learned this week is that Saul did not become Paul on the road to Damascus or at any other time. Paul’s conversion was a redirection accomplished when he was shown the truth and learned the Way. What a wonderful turn of phrase -- those who belong to the Way. When we last saw the disciples, they were still huddled in the upper room even though Jesus had breathed the Holy Spirit into them and told them, “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” It seems that they stayed in Jerusalem until the festival of Unleavened Bread, which is the week that includes the 24-hours of Passover, ended. They left when the other pilgrims left. It was, after all, the way that they had always done things.
Peter has decided to go fishing. This is not a vacation or a diversion, but a return to the way of life that had been interrupted by the three years spent with Jesus. What he fails to understand is that there is no escaping his calling because Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. One can imagine the feeling of comfort in the routine of casting the net on the lake where he had grown up dissipating and giving way to doubt as the night passed by without a single fish. Having failed as a disciple and now as a fisherman, Peter had truly lost his way.
Perhaps that is why he and the other disciples accept the unsolicited advice to cast the net on the right side of the boat, or perhaps they sensed a familiarity in the greeting from the dimly-seen visitor. My favorite translation comes from William Barclay, a Scot: “Have you caught anything, lads?” Whatever the reason, the net is filled to bursting, Jesus is recognized, and the disciples head to shore. Even then, when Jesus offers them breakfast, they stay back until Jesus comes to them, takes the bread and fish, and gives it to them. Even after Peter (who Jesus addresses not as Peter, but as Simon, son of John) repents and receives his commission, and he and the others respond to Jesus’ call to “Follow Me,” we wonder how long it will be until they again lose their way.
And that is where we are. Like the disciples, we have failed Jesus and ourselves in countless ways. Instead of being followers of the Way, we have done things our own way. We want God to fulfill a function in our lives -- to keep us safe, to help us succeed, to punch our ticket to Heaven, but we don’t acknowledge God as the source of our lives. We are willing to say that we love God, but we struggle with the fact that professing our love for God without also hearing the call to love one another is not an option.
I talked last week about how hard faith is and how hard life is. Among the responses I received was this from a friend who works with people struggling with mental health and addiction: When I see our staff or myself doing my best, we are radically present. We first acknowledge the suffering, give love, and ask questions second. We help them see that they are not alone and they are cared for. We also accept them as they are, and by showing them this, we help them accept themselves and the things they cannot face.” This is the kind of love that we all need and the kind of love that we all need to give. AMEN
Easter 2: April 24
Thomas wanted proof, but not in the way that it might seem. What Thomas needed to see was the wounds -- evidence that the Jesus who had appeared to his friends was not some spiritual vision of a shiny new Christ, but a continuation of the Word-made-flesh. John’s gospel was written so that we who cannot see Christ’s wounds can still come to believe. If scripture teaches us anything, it is that there are many ways to look without seeing, to hear without listening, and to experience without understanding. In fact, scripture is a record of an ongoing conversation between God and humanity -- an invitation to a Covenant relationship.
The wounds show us that we worship a God who, quite literally, has “skin in the game,” not some alien being who is simply biding his time before destroying the wicked and rescuing those who please him. The wounds also show us that the world’s evil is monstrous to the extent that, even in the newness of the resurrection, it has left God scarred. The wounds show us that even though our sins are forgiven, our continued disobedience hurts God. Hebrews 4:15 says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.”
As a church, we are called to enter a relationship with Christ that will somehow result in our being “born again.” As Paul said in Romans 10, “faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ.” As Willimon says in Listeners Dare: Hearing God in the Sermon, “The gospel is news that passes from the lips of one who has heard to the ears of one who may not have heard, then (God willing) burrows into the soul, energizing heart and hands in daring response to news received.” AMEN
Thomas wanted proof, but not in the way that it might seem. What Thomas needed to see was the wounds -- evidence that the Jesus who had appeared to his friends was not some spiritual vision of a shiny new Christ, but a continuation of the Word-made-flesh. John’s gospel was written so that we who cannot see Christ’s wounds can still come to believe. If scripture teaches us anything, it is that there are many ways to look without seeing, to hear without listening, and to experience without understanding. In fact, scripture is a record of an ongoing conversation between God and humanity -- an invitation to a Covenant relationship.
The wounds show us that we worship a God who, quite literally, has “skin in the game,” not some alien being who is simply biding his time before destroying the wicked and rescuing those who please him. The wounds also show us that the world’s evil is monstrous to the extent that, even in the newness of the resurrection, it has left God scarred. The wounds show us that even though our sins are forgiven, our continued disobedience hurts God. Hebrews 4:15 says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.”
As a church, we are called to enter a relationship with Christ that will somehow result in our being “born again.” As Paul said in Romans 10, “faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ.” As Willimon says in Listeners Dare: Hearing God in the Sermon, “The gospel is news that passes from the lips of one who has heard to the ears of one who may not have heard, then (God willing) burrows into the soul, energizing heart and hands in daring response to news received.” AMEN
Lent 5: April 3rd
I was driving past the Danielson home place the other day, and I happened to look at the granary; instantly, the smell of hot, dusty oats and mice filled my vehicle. (As I wrote this, it happened again.) Of course, a flood of memories accompanied the smell. In today’s gospel reading, “The house is filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” The house is the home of Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. Just a chapter earlier, Martha had warned Jesus, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” The scene depicted in today’s reading is an example of how God does new things in unexpected ways.
The resurrection of Lazarus created ripples that spread in all directions. On one hand, “Many of the people who had come to visit Mary saw what Jesus did, and they believed in him.” On the other hand, “some of them returned to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done.” When Jesus returned to Bethany, crowds followed to see both Jesus and Lazarus. These are the folks who accompanied Jesus as he entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and those who gathered along the road to catch a glimpse of him. For those who have already arrived in Jerusalem for the ritual of purification before Passover, there is no topic of conversation other than Jesus. The chief priests and Pharisees have given the order that anyone knowing Jesus’ whereabouts must report it so that they can arrest him before he arrives in Jerusalem. Not only are people lining up for or against Jesus, they are also debating whether or not he will come to Jerusalem at all.
Against this backdrop, Jesus arrives at the home of his friends. Bethany would have been busy at this time any year as pilgrims passed through on their way to Jerusalem. Many likely would have stayed in Bethany during the Passover as well. It hasn’t been long since Lazarus was resurrected, but that doesn’t mean that things haven’t changed. Not only is Lazarus alive; he has become something of a celebrity -- the home and tomb are now places to see on the way to Jerusalem. The relationship between Jesus and Lazarus, Martha and Mary has changed as well. The last time Jesus came to Bethany, first Martha and then Mary met him with accusations before he even reached the house. They may well feel some guilt beneath their preparations to have dinner with Jesus.
The story of the shared meal is one of contrasts. Lazarus was dead, but now he lives. Jesus is alive, but the time of his death is drawing near. While Martha takes up her normal role as server and Lazarus is only mentioned as being at the table, Mary’s action changes everything. The anointing of Jesus’ feet foreshadows Jesus washing the feet of the disciples in less than a week. The fact that the fragrance of the ointment fills the house shows that this is a ritual that takes in all who are present. The unexpected intimacy of Mary’s act is countered by the bean-counting practicality of Judas as the actions of the Prodigal Son contrast with the attitude of his older brother.
As we sit with this story on our way to Palm Sunday and Holy Week, we need to remember that contrast does not mean either-or. The spikenard had a lovely smell, but it was a smell that was associated with death. Although Judas has been revealed as a hypocrite and thief, Jesus will wash his feet too. As always, there is a bit of each of the characters in each of us: wild generosity alongside rigid piety, acceptance of Christ alongside rejection, and a mingling of sinner and saint. AMEN
I was driving past the Danielson home place the other day, and I happened to look at the granary; instantly, the smell of hot, dusty oats and mice filled my vehicle. (As I wrote this, it happened again.) Of course, a flood of memories accompanied the smell. In today’s gospel reading, “The house is filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” The house is the home of Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. Just a chapter earlier, Martha had warned Jesus, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” The scene depicted in today’s reading is an example of how God does new things in unexpected ways.
The resurrection of Lazarus created ripples that spread in all directions. On one hand, “Many of the people who had come to visit Mary saw what Jesus did, and they believed in him.” On the other hand, “some of them returned to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done.” When Jesus returned to Bethany, crowds followed to see both Jesus and Lazarus. These are the folks who accompanied Jesus as he entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and those who gathered along the road to catch a glimpse of him. For those who have already arrived in Jerusalem for the ritual of purification before Passover, there is no topic of conversation other than Jesus. The chief priests and Pharisees have given the order that anyone knowing Jesus’ whereabouts must report it so that they can arrest him before he arrives in Jerusalem. Not only are people lining up for or against Jesus, they are also debating whether or not he will come to Jerusalem at all.
Against this backdrop, Jesus arrives at the home of his friends. Bethany would have been busy at this time any year as pilgrims passed through on their way to Jerusalem. Many likely would have stayed in Bethany during the Passover as well. It hasn’t been long since Lazarus was resurrected, but that doesn’t mean that things haven’t changed. Not only is Lazarus alive; he has become something of a celebrity -- the home and tomb are now places to see on the way to Jerusalem. The relationship between Jesus and Lazarus, Martha and Mary has changed as well. The last time Jesus came to Bethany, first Martha and then Mary met him with accusations before he even reached the house. They may well feel some guilt beneath their preparations to have dinner with Jesus.
The story of the shared meal is one of contrasts. Lazarus was dead, but now he lives. Jesus is alive, but the time of his death is drawing near. While Martha takes up her normal role as server and Lazarus is only mentioned as being at the table, Mary’s action changes everything. The anointing of Jesus’ feet foreshadows Jesus washing the feet of the disciples in less than a week. The fact that the fragrance of the ointment fills the house shows that this is a ritual that takes in all who are present. The unexpected intimacy of Mary’s act is countered by the bean-counting practicality of Judas as the actions of the Prodigal Son contrast with the attitude of his older brother.
As we sit with this story on our way to Palm Sunday and Holy Week, we need to remember that contrast does not mean either-or. The spikenard had a lovely smell, but it was a smell that was associated with death. Although Judas has been revealed as a hypocrite and thief, Jesus will wash his feet too. As always, there is a bit of each of the characters in each of us: wild generosity alongside rigid piety, acceptance of Christ alongside rejection, and a mingling of sinner and saint. AMEN
Lent 3:3-27
Today’s parable is the third in a series that Jesus told because the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” In both the parable of the Lost Sheep and the parable of the Lost Coin, what has been lost has been found through diligent searching. Both parables conclude with calls to celebration and Jesus’ teaching, “In the same way, I tell you, the angels of God rejoice over one sinner who repents.” Interestingly, there is no searching in the parable of the Prodigal son. Nor is there a clear example of repentance. Like the parable of the fig tree, time and opportunity for repentance is given, but the outcome is left to our imaginations.
The parable of the prodigal son plays on our desire to view the world as dualistic. The faithful Pharisees are angry at Jesus for spending so much time with sinners and tax collectors. Jesus responds with a story about a man with two sons, one of whom demands his inheritance and then wastes it all while the other stays home and works alongside his father. The younger son returns home with his tail between his legs, feeling unworthy to be called a son and asking to be a servant while the elder son complains that even though he has stayed, he has been treated like a slave. While the wayward son is the guest of honor at a party, nobody even bothers to invite the loyal son. The younger son has been lost and found, dead then alive, while the elder son is always with the father. At the very least, the Pharisees are being reminded that God’s grace doesn’t depend on following the rules. Given time, they might even come to understand that they are the elder son -- spoiled and entitled.
The thing is, the two sons are more similar than dissimilar. Both accept the father’s decision to split the estate, so both receive their inheritance early. While the younger son cuts ties with his home and family in order to chase happiness elsewhere, the elder son seems to have created his own bitter reality of being the victim of his brother’s thoughtlessness and his father’s overindulgence of his brother. In reality, neither is being a good son. While one is self-indulgent, the other is self-righteous. During the story, they both reach a point of scarcity. Not only did the younger son run out of money and the relationships that came along with it, “a famine took place throughout the country, he began to be in need, and no one gave him anything.” When he learns of the party, the older son declares that he too has been in need and that his father had never given him anything.
It has been in style for some time for pastors to point out that many congregations are more like the older brother than they care to admit -- that they need to get over their sense of entitlement and welcome those they have unfairly judged as unworthy. There are several problems with this, not the least of which is that the reaction of the older son seems to be entirely justified. Sure, he has enjoyed the benefits of his father’s gift the entire time, while his younger brother has suffered, but the suffering was self-inflicted, and the father is clearly going above and beyond to welcome the younger brother home and back into the community. Who among us wouldn’t be upset, especially when the rascal was the guest of honor while we weren’t even invited, when the fatted calf that we raised was killed because our ungrateful brother finally found his way home (and before we are sure that he plans to stay and that he is really sorry)?
The point is that even though Jesus rejects both self-indulgence and self-righteousness, he provides a place for both to reunite. Even as we empathize with the older brother, we need to remember that the father didn’t command the younger brother to become more like him. Each had enough sins without having to confess those of the other, and both were sons of the same loving father.
The implications of this story continue to play out here and now. It is easy to see why the sinners and tax collectors do not want to become like the Pharisees and scribes as they are often described in the gospels -- rigid, judgmental and intolerant, Jesus does not condemn either brother. In other words, while the message that following the law is not what it takes to “bear good fruit” is clear, that does not mean that anything goes. As Jesus says in Matthew 5:17, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” As we acknowledge that the law points out our sinfulness and is meant to turn us toward repentance and forgiveness, we still strive to live up to our part of God’s covenant with us. The good news is that our repentance is a turn toward the joy that awaits us in God’s perfect love. AMEN
Today’s parable is the third in a series that Jesus told because the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” In both the parable of the Lost Sheep and the parable of the Lost Coin, what has been lost has been found through diligent searching. Both parables conclude with calls to celebration and Jesus’ teaching, “In the same way, I tell you, the angels of God rejoice over one sinner who repents.” Interestingly, there is no searching in the parable of the Prodigal son. Nor is there a clear example of repentance. Like the parable of the fig tree, time and opportunity for repentance is given, but the outcome is left to our imaginations.
The parable of the prodigal son plays on our desire to view the world as dualistic. The faithful Pharisees are angry at Jesus for spending so much time with sinners and tax collectors. Jesus responds with a story about a man with two sons, one of whom demands his inheritance and then wastes it all while the other stays home and works alongside his father. The younger son returns home with his tail between his legs, feeling unworthy to be called a son and asking to be a servant while the elder son complains that even though he has stayed, he has been treated like a slave. While the wayward son is the guest of honor at a party, nobody even bothers to invite the loyal son. The younger son has been lost and found, dead then alive, while the elder son is always with the father. At the very least, the Pharisees are being reminded that God’s grace doesn’t depend on following the rules. Given time, they might even come to understand that they are the elder son -- spoiled and entitled.
The thing is, the two sons are more similar than dissimilar. Both accept the father’s decision to split the estate, so both receive their inheritance early. While the younger son cuts ties with his home and family in order to chase happiness elsewhere, the elder son seems to have created his own bitter reality of being the victim of his brother’s thoughtlessness and his father’s overindulgence of his brother. In reality, neither is being a good son. While one is self-indulgent, the other is self-righteous. During the story, they both reach a point of scarcity. Not only did the younger son run out of money and the relationships that came along with it, “a famine took place throughout the country, he began to be in need, and no one gave him anything.” When he learns of the party, the older son declares that he too has been in need and that his father had never given him anything.
It has been in style for some time for pastors to point out that many congregations are more like the older brother than they care to admit -- that they need to get over their sense of entitlement and welcome those they have unfairly judged as unworthy. There are several problems with this, not the least of which is that the reaction of the older son seems to be entirely justified. Sure, he has enjoyed the benefits of his father’s gift the entire time, while his younger brother has suffered, but the suffering was self-inflicted, and the father is clearly going above and beyond to welcome the younger brother home and back into the community. Who among us wouldn’t be upset, especially when the rascal was the guest of honor while we weren’t even invited, when the fatted calf that we raised was killed because our ungrateful brother finally found his way home (and before we are sure that he plans to stay and that he is really sorry)?
The point is that even though Jesus rejects both self-indulgence and self-righteousness, he provides a place for both to reunite. Even as we empathize with the older brother, we need to remember that the father didn’t command the younger brother to become more like him. Each had enough sins without having to confess those of the other, and both were sons of the same loving father.
The implications of this story continue to play out here and now. It is easy to see why the sinners and tax collectors do not want to become like the Pharisees and scribes as they are often described in the gospels -- rigid, judgmental and intolerant, Jesus does not condemn either brother. In other words, while the message that following the law is not what it takes to “bear good fruit” is clear, that does not mean that anything goes. As Jesus says in Matthew 5:17, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” As we acknowledge that the law points out our sinfulness and is meant to turn us toward repentance and forgiveness, we still strive to live up to our part of God’s covenant with us. The good news is that our repentance is a turn toward the joy that awaits us in God’s perfect love. AMEN
Lent 3: May 20
The reading from Isaiah includes a warning to “Seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near.” Clearly, our time to repent is not unlimited. And how should we repent? “let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord.” The idea of turning away from our sins is nothing new, but the reason that Isaiah gives may have slipped our minds: “so that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.” This is not about avoiding death or even punishment. We are to repent because God is waiting for us with forgiveness and mercy -- not the threat of eternal damnation. If you don’t understand, there is a good reason: “ For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
The parable of the fig tree explains the matter further. On the surface, it looks like God, the vineyard owner, has had us planted, given us time to produce, and is fed up with our lack of productivity. Were it not for the intervention of Jesus (the gardener) we would already be in the brush pile. As it is, we had better get to producing fruit, or we are doomed. My problem with that is the separation of God from Jesus -- the idea that the angry, Old Testament, God has been replaced by a kinder, more patient, Jesus. Instead, the vineyard should be seen as God’s creation. Being planted there gives us every opportunity to flourish, and it is God’s greatest desire to see us do so. We are not expected to bear fruit immediately. The gardener tends us as we grow to maturity. In spite of this care, we have not begun to bear fruit. Oh, we are probably tall, sturdy, and lovely with our abundant leaves, but we haven’t produced any figs. We might argue that this isn’t our fault. Trees can’t just decide to grow fruit, and it doesn’t happen overnight. Besides, we are nice to look at, we throw some lovely shade, and, when the breeze blows just right, our leaves make a soothing, rustling sound. We aren’t really even sure that we are interested in producing fruit -- it sounds like a lot of work.
The beauty of this parable is that we don’t know the ending. Although the gardener will do his best, some trees simply don’t respond -- they don’t bear fruit. Although tragedies and disasters can shock us into turning toward God, this little parable reminds us of the danger of assuming that the end of our story has been written -- that simply getting taller and growing some leaves is all that is really expected of us -- that who we are and what we do doesn’t really matter. Even more importantly, just as trees don’t bear fruit for their own benefit, repentance is not a matter of our personal salvation. We will all die, but not all of us will live in the way that God created us to live. Repenting means changing our perspective from a focus on ourselves to a call to live in community within God’s creation. George Bernard Shaw said, “I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community. And so long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die for the harder I work the more I live.” When we neglect our gifts, they wither and disappear. When we use them, they grow stronger. In the same way, according to William Barclay, "If a man consistently refuses the invitation and the challenge of Christ he can in the end make himself incapable of accepting it.” Our time is limited. Our lives matter. AMEN
The reading from Isaiah includes a warning to “Seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near.” Clearly, our time to repent is not unlimited. And how should we repent? “let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord.” The idea of turning away from our sins is nothing new, but the reason that Isaiah gives may have slipped our minds: “so that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.” This is not about avoiding death or even punishment. We are to repent because God is waiting for us with forgiveness and mercy -- not the threat of eternal damnation. If you don’t understand, there is a good reason: “ For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
The parable of the fig tree explains the matter further. On the surface, it looks like God, the vineyard owner, has had us planted, given us time to produce, and is fed up with our lack of productivity. Were it not for the intervention of Jesus (the gardener) we would already be in the brush pile. As it is, we had better get to producing fruit, or we are doomed. My problem with that is the separation of God from Jesus -- the idea that the angry, Old Testament, God has been replaced by a kinder, more patient, Jesus. Instead, the vineyard should be seen as God’s creation. Being planted there gives us every opportunity to flourish, and it is God’s greatest desire to see us do so. We are not expected to bear fruit immediately. The gardener tends us as we grow to maturity. In spite of this care, we have not begun to bear fruit. Oh, we are probably tall, sturdy, and lovely with our abundant leaves, but we haven’t produced any figs. We might argue that this isn’t our fault. Trees can’t just decide to grow fruit, and it doesn’t happen overnight. Besides, we are nice to look at, we throw some lovely shade, and, when the breeze blows just right, our leaves make a soothing, rustling sound. We aren’t really even sure that we are interested in producing fruit -- it sounds like a lot of work.
The beauty of this parable is that we don’t know the ending. Although the gardener will do his best, some trees simply don’t respond -- they don’t bear fruit. Although tragedies and disasters can shock us into turning toward God, this little parable reminds us of the danger of assuming that the end of our story has been written -- that simply getting taller and growing some leaves is all that is really expected of us -- that who we are and what we do doesn’t really matter. Even more importantly, just as trees don’t bear fruit for their own benefit, repentance is not a matter of our personal salvation. We will all die, but not all of us will live in the way that God created us to live. Repenting means changing our perspective from a focus on ourselves to a call to live in community within God’s creation. George Bernard Shaw said, “I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community. And so long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die for the harder I work the more I live.” When we neglect our gifts, they wither and disappear. When we use them, they grow stronger. In the same way, according to William Barclay, "If a man consistently refuses the invitation and the challenge of Christ he can in the end make himself incapable of accepting it.” Our time is limited. Our lives matter. AMEN
Lent 2, March 13
Jesus never wavered from his mission: “to bring good news to the poor; to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Today’s gospel reading brings Jesus’ relentless ministry into conflict with those he was sent to save. Herod wants to kill Jesus, Jesus wants to gather Jerusalem under his wings, and Jerusalem does not want to be gathered. While some of the images in this passage may be confusing, the situation that it depicts is eternal.
The idea of casting out demons seems foreign to us, but the issue of possession is never far from us. I don’t mean possession with the sort of evil spirits that you might imagine; I am talking about all of the things that are not God that dominate our hearts, our minds, and our souls. I love the way that Paul explains it in today’s epistle: our God is the belly, and our glory is in our shame. Our minds are set on earthly things. Success is our worst enemy because we see it as both our birthright and our own accomplishment. Like it or not, one of the things that we need most from God is to be humbled. If there is one lesson that we can learn from the 40 years that the People spent in the wilderness is that faith in God is easy unless we are hungry, tired, scared, bored, full, well-rested, confident or busy. The casting out of demons comes down from deliverance from our captivity to our own desires.
Besides deliverance, Jesus’ ministry is one of healing and fulfillment. It is easy to get caught up in the idea of healing as strictly a physical phenomenon, and Jesus certainly did real, physical healings. What we miss is the depth behind the physical healings. When Jesus healed the blind, the first thing that they saw with their restored sight was Jesus. The deaf heard his voice, the mute were able to praise him, and the lame were freed to follow him. Of course, many of them did not take advantage of those opportunities. What Jesus offers is to clear out the clutter that we spend our lives accumulating to fill our misplaced desires and to impress our neighbors and to replace it with his presence.
Today’s reading shows us that Jesus’ earthly ministry was almost over -- that the chance to follow and to be sheltered under Jesus’ wing was about to end. That is where the third day and the resurrection come in. The issues that Jesus points out with Jerusalem are not unique to that place or time. Since it was the location of the Temple, it was an obvious example of how misplaced religious loyalties could get in the way of the truth, but all people, from all cultures, in all times, find ways to reject the fullness of what God desires to give.
The Pharisees at the beginning of this reading are an example of one way that we do that. Since the Pharisees, the religious officials and the scribes are so often mentioned in opposition to Jesus in the New Testament, we comfort ourselves with the idea that it was the truly bad people who were responsible for Jesus’ death. We conveniently overlook the fact that most of the people who made up those groups were not evil at all. They struggled to accept ideas that were outside of their own traditions and understanding, but who doesn’t? They lashed out when they felt threatened, but that isn’t unusual either.
The image of the chicks who refuse the shelter of their mother’s wings shows us who God is, and it shows us who we are. Like day-old chicks, we spend our days noisily cheeping, whether it is telling the world how wonderful we are or how deficient they are (or a little of each) with no real understanding of what it is that we really want and need, unable to believe that anyone really cares about an insignificant ball of fluff like us. AMEN
Jesus never wavered from his mission: “to bring good news to the poor; to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Today’s gospel reading brings Jesus’ relentless ministry into conflict with those he was sent to save. Herod wants to kill Jesus, Jesus wants to gather Jerusalem under his wings, and Jerusalem does not want to be gathered. While some of the images in this passage may be confusing, the situation that it depicts is eternal.
The idea of casting out demons seems foreign to us, but the issue of possession is never far from us. I don’t mean possession with the sort of evil spirits that you might imagine; I am talking about all of the things that are not God that dominate our hearts, our minds, and our souls. I love the way that Paul explains it in today’s epistle: our God is the belly, and our glory is in our shame. Our minds are set on earthly things. Success is our worst enemy because we see it as both our birthright and our own accomplishment. Like it or not, one of the things that we need most from God is to be humbled. If there is one lesson that we can learn from the 40 years that the People spent in the wilderness is that faith in God is easy unless we are hungry, tired, scared, bored, full, well-rested, confident or busy. The casting out of demons comes down from deliverance from our captivity to our own desires.
Besides deliverance, Jesus’ ministry is one of healing and fulfillment. It is easy to get caught up in the idea of healing as strictly a physical phenomenon, and Jesus certainly did real, physical healings. What we miss is the depth behind the physical healings. When Jesus healed the blind, the first thing that they saw with their restored sight was Jesus. The deaf heard his voice, the mute were able to praise him, and the lame were freed to follow him. Of course, many of them did not take advantage of those opportunities. What Jesus offers is to clear out the clutter that we spend our lives accumulating to fill our misplaced desires and to impress our neighbors and to replace it with his presence.
Today’s reading shows us that Jesus’ earthly ministry was almost over -- that the chance to follow and to be sheltered under Jesus’ wing was about to end. That is where the third day and the resurrection come in. The issues that Jesus points out with Jerusalem are not unique to that place or time. Since it was the location of the Temple, it was an obvious example of how misplaced religious loyalties could get in the way of the truth, but all people, from all cultures, in all times, find ways to reject the fullness of what God desires to give.
The Pharisees at the beginning of this reading are an example of one way that we do that. Since the Pharisees, the religious officials and the scribes are so often mentioned in opposition to Jesus in the New Testament, we comfort ourselves with the idea that it was the truly bad people who were responsible for Jesus’ death. We conveniently overlook the fact that most of the people who made up those groups were not evil at all. They struggled to accept ideas that were outside of their own traditions and understanding, but who doesn’t? They lashed out when they felt threatened, but that isn’t unusual either.
The image of the chicks who refuse the shelter of their mother’s wings shows us who God is, and it shows us who we are. Like day-old chicks, we spend our days noisily cheeping, whether it is telling the world how wonderful we are or how deficient they are (or a little of each) with no real understanding of what it is that we really want and need, unable to believe that anyone really cares about an insignificant ball of fluff like us. AMEN
Lent 1: March 6
According to Sundays and Seasons, “These forty days called Lent are like no others. It is our opportune time to return to the God who rescues, to receive the gifts of God’s grace, to believe with the heart and confess with the mouth the wonder of God’s love in Jesus, and to resist temptation at every turn. This is no small pilgrimage on which we have just embarked. It is a struggle Jesus knew. It is a struggle Jesus shares. The nearness of the Lord, in bread and wine, water and word, will uphold and sustain us.”
As always, context is important in understanding the readings. The Temptation of Jesus in Luke is set up first by the Spirit descending at Jesus’ baptism and saying, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased,” and then Jesus’ genealogy going all the way back to Adam. It is followed by Jesus announcing his mission in Nazareth and then nearly being thrown off a cliff. John the Baptist has announced the coming of Jesus, the Holy Spirit has confirmed Jesus’ identity, and his ancestry is offered as evidence that Jesus is the fulfillment of the hopes of all people. Although the devil says several times, “If you are the son of God,” Jesus’ identity as fully human and fully defined has been established. None of the temptations would make any sense if Jesus lacked either the power to accomplish them or the vulnerability to give in to them.
According to Frederick Buechner, “ Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself what it meant to be Jesus.” Jesus’ encounter with the devil is not a play staged to show us how to respond to temptation. Jesus has just received confirmation of who he is. Although he certainly had an idea throughout his life, it still had to be something of a shock to have the skies open, the spirit descend, and the voice of God confirm it. He goes into the wilderness to wrestle with the problem of how to best be God’s Son, and the devil offers him several alternatives. The temptation to turn the stones to bread offers Jesus to take a shortcut; if he feeds people and gives them material things, he is sure to quickly gather a following. The second is an invitation to compromise. The devil already has a pretty good grip on the world, so why should Jesus go to the trouble of setting a higher standard? Does anyone really need more power than the Roman empire held? The final temptation is to attract a following through sensational demonstrations of his power. People are always eager to witness a spectacle. At the end of the passage, we are reminded that Jesus is not done wrestling with temptation. He has, however, established that there will be no shortcuts or compromise in his ministry.
As I said earlier, the temptation of Jesus is not shared so that we can learn how to overcome our own temptations. It is, instead, meant to reveal something new about God. Even as Christ’s choices make the cross inevitable, they contradict the assumptions that we stubbornly hold about God. Although Jesus refused to turn the stones to bread, we often see God only as a provider, protector, and kindly benefactor. Although Jesus refused the offer of worldly power and showed no interest in being the leader of any nation, we continue to insist that God favors our nation over any other. If Jesus had agreed to any of the devil’s offers, he would have become an ancient revolutionary, a skillful politician, or a beloved magician. He would have become an unusually powerful person -- which is really not that unusual.
When we hear Paul say that everyone who calls on the Lord will be saved, we simply can’t believe it. There is nothing in this world and nothing within us that compares to the Grace of God, so we substitute our poor understanding of God for the reality. Lent is meant, in part, for us to work on that. AMEN
According to Sundays and Seasons, “These forty days called Lent are like no others. It is our opportune time to return to the God who rescues, to receive the gifts of God’s grace, to believe with the heart and confess with the mouth the wonder of God’s love in Jesus, and to resist temptation at every turn. This is no small pilgrimage on which we have just embarked. It is a struggle Jesus knew. It is a struggle Jesus shares. The nearness of the Lord, in bread and wine, water and word, will uphold and sustain us.”
As always, context is important in understanding the readings. The Temptation of Jesus in Luke is set up first by the Spirit descending at Jesus’ baptism and saying, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased,” and then Jesus’ genealogy going all the way back to Adam. It is followed by Jesus announcing his mission in Nazareth and then nearly being thrown off a cliff. John the Baptist has announced the coming of Jesus, the Holy Spirit has confirmed Jesus’ identity, and his ancestry is offered as evidence that Jesus is the fulfillment of the hopes of all people. Although the devil says several times, “If you are the son of God,” Jesus’ identity as fully human and fully defined has been established. None of the temptations would make any sense if Jesus lacked either the power to accomplish them or the vulnerability to give in to them.
According to Frederick Buechner, “ Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself what it meant to be Jesus.” Jesus’ encounter with the devil is not a play staged to show us how to respond to temptation. Jesus has just received confirmation of who he is. Although he certainly had an idea throughout his life, it still had to be something of a shock to have the skies open, the spirit descend, and the voice of God confirm it. He goes into the wilderness to wrestle with the problem of how to best be God’s Son, and the devil offers him several alternatives. The temptation to turn the stones to bread offers Jesus to take a shortcut; if he feeds people and gives them material things, he is sure to quickly gather a following. The second is an invitation to compromise. The devil already has a pretty good grip on the world, so why should Jesus go to the trouble of setting a higher standard? Does anyone really need more power than the Roman empire held? The final temptation is to attract a following through sensational demonstrations of his power. People are always eager to witness a spectacle. At the end of the passage, we are reminded that Jesus is not done wrestling with temptation. He has, however, established that there will be no shortcuts or compromise in his ministry.
As I said earlier, the temptation of Jesus is not shared so that we can learn how to overcome our own temptations. It is, instead, meant to reveal something new about God. Even as Christ’s choices make the cross inevitable, they contradict the assumptions that we stubbornly hold about God. Although Jesus refused to turn the stones to bread, we often see God only as a provider, protector, and kindly benefactor. Although Jesus refused the offer of worldly power and showed no interest in being the leader of any nation, we continue to insist that God favors our nation over any other. If Jesus had agreed to any of the devil’s offers, he would have become an ancient revolutionary, a skillful politician, or a beloved magician. He would have become an unusually powerful person -- which is really not that unusual.
When we hear Paul say that everyone who calls on the Lord will be saved, we simply can’t believe it. There is nothing in this world and nothing within us that compares to the Grace of God, so we substitute our poor understanding of God for the reality. Lent is meant, in part, for us to work on that. AMEN
Transfiguration Sunday
About eight days after these sayings… What kind of way is that to start a story? My granddaughter Luella isn’t even four yet, but she knows that you begin a story by clearing your throat and then saying “ladies and gentlemen” and “once upon a time.” For your information, “these sayings” is quite a list, even if we only go back to the beginning of Luke 9. The chapter begins with Jesus sending out the disciples with the power and the command to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to Heal. The ministry of the disciples caused people to begin to speculate about who Jesus was. Even King Herod is paying attention; he is confused because people are saying that Jesus is John the Baptist raised from the dead, Elijah, or one of the prophets of old. When the disciples return from their mission, Jesus tries to go to an out of the way place with them. They are followed, and they end up feeding 5,000 men, along with many women and children. Next, Jesus goes off to pray alone with the disciples, and he asks them who people say that he is. They give the same answers that Herod has overheard. When he asks who they say that he is, Peter gets it right. Jesus tells them that because he is the Messiah, he will suffer, die, and be resurrected. Luke doesn’t include the part about Peter then continuing to talk and getting called Satan. Instead, we get the sayings that the beginning of our reading alludes to: If you want to follow me, deny your life, take up your cross, and follow me. If you want to save your life, you must lose your life -- some deep and confusing stuff.
To make a long story short (if it’s not too late) Jesus’ time to prepare the disciples is coming to an end, and they clearly don’t understand what he is trying to tell them. As he always does in Luke, Jesus addresses this issue by going off to pray. This time, he only takes three of the disciples with him. Depending on which translation is used, they either fall asleep, or they are nearly asleep. I think that we can all identify with that state where we are in between -- where we are losing the battle to stay awake and are woken up by our own snores. When they wake up, or when they come fully awake, Jesus’ clothes have become a dazzling white, and Elijah and Moses are talking with him. The new snow and sunshine have made this the perfect week to dwell on this part of the story -- I am reminded of it every time I step inside and have to stand and wait for my eyes to come back into focus.
The sleepwalking of the disciples being interrupted by incredible brightness just might be the most important part of this text. Like the disciples, we have all heard the stories of scripture many times, often without them truly energizing us. We may also have experienced glimpses of God -- moments that have stopped us in our tracks and caused us to say something profound like, “Wow,” or “It is good that we are here.” Like Peter, we may have wanted to stay in that moment, even though we probably understood that it wasn’t possible. These moments can reveal truths to us about how we should live our lives differently; perhaps we realize that our time is short and that we are wasting too much of it, that the cost of our damaged relationships is too great for us to bear, or that we simply aren’t the person that we want to be. Unfortunately, our eyes always find a way to adjust to the dimness of the indoors.
Fortunately, the Transfiguration shows us how to deal with our inability to consistently stay in the Light of God. Ironically, the answer comes in a cloud, as God answers the question of who Jesus is and how we are supposed to respond once and for all. We are to listen to Him. How? Through prayer, of course. As Mother Teresa said, “God speaks in the silence of the heart. Listening is the beginning of prayer.” AMEN
About eight days after these sayings… What kind of way is that to start a story? My granddaughter Luella isn’t even four yet, but she knows that you begin a story by clearing your throat and then saying “ladies and gentlemen” and “once upon a time.” For your information, “these sayings” is quite a list, even if we only go back to the beginning of Luke 9. The chapter begins with Jesus sending out the disciples with the power and the command to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to Heal. The ministry of the disciples caused people to begin to speculate about who Jesus was. Even King Herod is paying attention; he is confused because people are saying that Jesus is John the Baptist raised from the dead, Elijah, or one of the prophets of old. When the disciples return from their mission, Jesus tries to go to an out of the way place with them. They are followed, and they end up feeding 5,000 men, along with many women and children. Next, Jesus goes off to pray alone with the disciples, and he asks them who people say that he is. They give the same answers that Herod has overheard. When he asks who they say that he is, Peter gets it right. Jesus tells them that because he is the Messiah, he will suffer, die, and be resurrected. Luke doesn’t include the part about Peter then continuing to talk and getting called Satan. Instead, we get the sayings that the beginning of our reading alludes to: If you want to follow me, deny your life, take up your cross, and follow me. If you want to save your life, you must lose your life -- some deep and confusing stuff.
To make a long story short (if it’s not too late) Jesus’ time to prepare the disciples is coming to an end, and they clearly don’t understand what he is trying to tell them. As he always does in Luke, Jesus addresses this issue by going off to pray. This time, he only takes three of the disciples with him. Depending on which translation is used, they either fall asleep, or they are nearly asleep. I think that we can all identify with that state where we are in between -- where we are losing the battle to stay awake and are woken up by our own snores. When they wake up, or when they come fully awake, Jesus’ clothes have become a dazzling white, and Elijah and Moses are talking with him. The new snow and sunshine have made this the perfect week to dwell on this part of the story -- I am reminded of it every time I step inside and have to stand and wait for my eyes to come back into focus.
The sleepwalking of the disciples being interrupted by incredible brightness just might be the most important part of this text. Like the disciples, we have all heard the stories of scripture many times, often without them truly energizing us. We may also have experienced glimpses of God -- moments that have stopped us in our tracks and caused us to say something profound like, “Wow,” or “It is good that we are here.” Like Peter, we may have wanted to stay in that moment, even though we probably understood that it wasn’t possible. These moments can reveal truths to us about how we should live our lives differently; perhaps we realize that our time is short and that we are wasting too much of it, that the cost of our damaged relationships is too great for us to bear, or that we simply aren’t the person that we want to be. Unfortunately, our eyes always find a way to adjust to the dimness of the indoors.
Fortunately, the Transfiguration shows us how to deal with our inability to consistently stay in the Light of God. Ironically, the answer comes in a cloud, as God answers the question of who Jesus is and how we are supposed to respond once and for all. We are to listen to Him. How? Through prayer, of course. As Mother Teresa said, “God speaks in the silence of the heart. Listening is the beginning of prayer.” AMEN
Epiphany 7: February 20
Today’s gospel continues the Sermon on the Plain. Remember that this day followed a night of prayer and began with the calling of the twelve. Before Jesus began to speak, the power that came out from him healed the crowds that had gathered. Last week, we heard Luke’s account of the beatitudes -- the blesseds and woes or the yippees and watch outs. The message that Jesus sees, hears and loves even those who are the most damaged and discarded and that those who seek their satisfaction on earth are settling for far less than he offers comes from the same power and energy that healed the sick and cast out the demons. Jesus is overflowing with the power of God. In Luke, the disciples almost always includes a group much larger than the twelve apostles. When Jesus says, “But I say to those who hear,” it makes me wonder how many have already turned away because what Jesus is telling them doesn’t make sense or because it seems too difficult.
Those who hear begin with what must be the toughest of commandments: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” Love, do good, bless, pray -- who among us is able to consistently do that even for those we already love, much less for those who hate, curse and abuse us? It helps a bit (but only a bit) to look at do good, bless and pray as how we are supposed to love our enemies. At least we don’t have to like them or think warm thoughts about them! It also makes it a bit easier to understand that the part about turning the other cheek probably refers to being slapped on the face in order to challenge or humiliate us and not to physical violence. Still, even the “Golden Rule” doesn’t offer much comfort here because it calls for action, not response. We don’t get to wait and see what others have to offer. Instead, we have to base our treatment of others on how we wish that others would treat us. In fact, treating others as they treat us -- responding to love with love, to generosity with generosity -- is of no value at all because even sinners do that.
This seems like a good spot in which to remind ourselves that we are all sinners, and that Christ died for us while we were sinners. Just as Jesus healed the crowds without asking any questions, assigning any blame or setting a price, he has treated each and every one of us with undeserved mercy. The essence of what Jesus offers is opportunity. It is almost impossible for us to think about opportunity without weighing risk -- to consider benefit without cost -- to taste the carrot without looking for the stick. The truly earth-shattering part of what Jesus is saying is that there is no stick beyond that which we use for self-flagellation or for menacing others. “But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” Like it or not, we are among the ungrateful and the wicked, which gives the remainder of our reading extra power: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; 38 give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”
Describing the importance of ritual in worship, Will Willimon said, “Ritual gives us the guts to come before the throne of God without having to think about it, to stand at the foot of the cross of Christ, to set ourselves in that space where the living God may surprise us.” Even the strongest of believers is surprised by God’s presence because it is beyond our understanding. As we live in a world that is made up of both friends and enemies, we are called to offer the opportunity to be surprised by the Living God to one and all. AMEN
Today’s gospel continues the Sermon on the Plain. Remember that this day followed a night of prayer and began with the calling of the twelve. Before Jesus began to speak, the power that came out from him healed the crowds that had gathered. Last week, we heard Luke’s account of the beatitudes -- the blesseds and woes or the yippees and watch outs. The message that Jesus sees, hears and loves even those who are the most damaged and discarded and that those who seek their satisfaction on earth are settling for far less than he offers comes from the same power and energy that healed the sick and cast out the demons. Jesus is overflowing with the power of God. In Luke, the disciples almost always includes a group much larger than the twelve apostles. When Jesus says, “But I say to those who hear,” it makes me wonder how many have already turned away because what Jesus is telling them doesn’t make sense or because it seems too difficult.
Those who hear begin with what must be the toughest of commandments: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” Love, do good, bless, pray -- who among us is able to consistently do that even for those we already love, much less for those who hate, curse and abuse us? It helps a bit (but only a bit) to look at do good, bless and pray as how we are supposed to love our enemies. At least we don’t have to like them or think warm thoughts about them! It also makes it a bit easier to understand that the part about turning the other cheek probably refers to being slapped on the face in order to challenge or humiliate us and not to physical violence. Still, even the “Golden Rule” doesn’t offer much comfort here because it calls for action, not response. We don’t get to wait and see what others have to offer. Instead, we have to base our treatment of others on how we wish that others would treat us. In fact, treating others as they treat us -- responding to love with love, to generosity with generosity -- is of no value at all because even sinners do that.
This seems like a good spot in which to remind ourselves that we are all sinners, and that Christ died for us while we were sinners. Just as Jesus healed the crowds without asking any questions, assigning any blame or setting a price, he has treated each and every one of us with undeserved mercy. The essence of what Jesus offers is opportunity. It is almost impossible for us to think about opportunity without weighing risk -- to consider benefit without cost -- to taste the carrot without looking for the stick. The truly earth-shattering part of what Jesus is saying is that there is no stick beyond that which we use for self-flagellation or for menacing others. “But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” Like it or not, we are among the ungrateful and the wicked, which gives the remainder of our reading extra power: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; 38 give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”
Describing the importance of ritual in worship, Will Willimon said, “Ritual gives us the guts to come before the throne of God without having to think about it, to stand at the foot of the cross of Christ, to set ourselves in that space where the living God may surprise us.” Even the strongest of believers is surprised by God’s presence because it is beyond our understanding. As we live in a world that is made up of both friends and enemies, we are called to offer the opportunity to be surprised by the Living God to one and all. AMEN
Epiphany 6: February13, 2022
“ The heart is devious above all else; it is perverse -- who can understand it?” I doubt that Jeremiah would have found work writing captions for Valentines’ Day cards. To be fair, the heart was not connected with emotion and romance in Biblical times; it was thought to have the ability to reason, question, meditate, motivate, and think -- a combination of the mind, soul and spirit. For example, when Samuel is looking over the sons of Jesse in order to choose a new king, and he is sure that the first son must be the one because he looks like a king, God says, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” The heart is what we truly are -- the essence of our human nature. It should come as no surprise, then, that Jeremiah described it as devious, perverse, and impossible to understand. It becomes interesting when Jeremiah breaks it up. The Message translation says, “But I, God, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human. I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be.”
In the epistle reading, Paul is also dealing with delusion -- specifically denial of the resurrection of Christ. The danger isn’t just wrong theology because of misunderstanding what happens to people after they die. It is entirely possible to disagree about that without endangering our souls. In Romans 5:8-9, Pauls says, “But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God.” When we deny the resurrection, we remained focused on the idea of a God focused on punishment, not forgiveness, and we continue to live in our sin.
This brings us to the Sermon on the Plain with Jesus. After praying all night, Jesus has chosen the twelve disciples and led them down the mountain and into a massive crowd that has come from hundreds of miles away to be healed by His presence. Jesus doesn’t ask them to climb the mountain to bask in his presence. He doesn’t even meet them in the middle. Instead, he wades into the perversity that is human nature, where the power of God that has been transmitted through prayer is so strong that all are healed.
When he is finished, he turns to the disciples and delivers Luke’s version of the beatitudes. It is important to remember that these are not commandments or instructions on how to get to heaven. Instead, Jesus is explaining the mindset needed to follow him with a series of “yippies” and “watch outs.” At the heart of them is the first pair: Yippee for the poor! The Kingdom of God is theirs. If you are rich, watch out because you are as happy and comfortable that you will ever be -- you have already been paid in full. Luke doesn’t weaken Jesus’ words as Matthew does by adding “in spirit.” Jesus is actually telling those who are at the absolute bottom of society that he sees them, knows them, and loves them.
When we place this idea next to Paul’s statement: “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” it becomes easier to understand. We are not called to be as poor and wretched as we can possibly be. We are being told to stay hungry, to believe in the abundance of God’s promise instead of stuffing ourselves with what is available to us here on earth. If you have three drinks and half a loaf of bread while you wait for your meal, you will likely not enjoy the meal. AMEN
“ The heart is devious above all else; it is perverse -- who can understand it?” I doubt that Jeremiah would have found work writing captions for Valentines’ Day cards. To be fair, the heart was not connected with emotion and romance in Biblical times; it was thought to have the ability to reason, question, meditate, motivate, and think -- a combination of the mind, soul and spirit. For example, when Samuel is looking over the sons of Jesse in order to choose a new king, and he is sure that the first son must be the one because he looks like a king, God says, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” The heart is what we truly are -- the essence of our human nature. It should come as no surprise, then, that Jeremiah described it as devious, perverse, and impossible to understand. It becomes interesting when Jeremiah breaks it up. The Message translation says, “But I, God, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human. I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be.”
In the epistle reading, Paul is also dealing with delusion -- specifically denial of the resurrection of Christ. The danger isn’t just wrong theology because of misunderstanding what happens to people after they die. It is entirely possible to disagree about that without endangering our souls. In Romans 5:8-9, Pauls says, “But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God.” When we deny the resurrection, we remained focused on the idea of a God focused on punishment, not forgiveness, and we continue to live in our sin.
This brings us to the Sermon on the Plain with Jesus. After praying all night, Jesus has chosen the twelve disciples and led them down the mountain and into a massive crowd that has come from hundreds of miles away to be healed by His presence. Jesus doesn’t ask them to climb the mountain to bask in his presence. He doesn’t even meet them in the middle. Instead, he wades into the perversity that is human nature, where the power of God that has been transmitted through prayer is so strong that all are healed.
When he is finished, he turns to the disciples and delivers Luke’s version of the beatitudes. It is important to remember that these are not commandments or instructions on how to get to heaven. Instead, Jesus is explaining the mindset needed to follow him with a series of “yippies” and “watch outs.” At the heart of them is the first pair: Yippee for the poor! The Kingdom of God is theirs. If you are rich, watch out because you are as happy and comfortable that you will ever be -- you have already been paid in full. Luke doesn’t weaken Jesus’ words as Matthew does by adding “in spirit.” Jesus is actually telling those who are at the absolute bottom of society that he sees them, knows them, and loves them.
When we place this idea next to Paul’s statement: “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” it becomes easier to understand. We are not called to be as poor and wretched as we can possibly be. We are being told to stay hungry, to believe in the abundance of God’s promise instead of stuffing ourselves with what is available to us here on earth. If you have three drinks and half a loaf of bread while you wait for your meal, you will likely not enjoy the meal. AMEN
Epiphany 5: February 6, 2022
Jesus was not taking a relaxing walk on the beach when he happened upon a group of fishermen. While it might seem like the crowd pushed Jesus into the boat, he led the crowd to the boat -- specifically the boat belonging to Simon Peter. It is likely that the fishermen knew Jesus at least through his reputation, and it is certain that Jesus knew who they were. We don’t get to hear any of Jesus’ message, but it must have been aimed at the fishermen, even as it was delivered to the crowd. I wonder if the fishermen were invigorated by what they heard, or if their eyelids began to droop during the sermon after a long night of fishless fishing. Either way, among the noises of people creaking their way into action after a period of sitting and listening, Jesus told Peter to put out into the deep water and lower his nets for the catch. I don’t know about Peter, but I doubt that anyone who made his living fishing was overly anxious to take fishing advice from a carpenter-turned-preacher. There must have been something about Jesus that kept him from arguing, even if it was the chance to prove the futility of fishing in the deep water during the day after a night without fish.
The resulting catch almost destroyed their nets and sunk both of their boats, and it caused Peter to do something almost as unexpected as taking fishing advice from a carpenter -- he admits that he was wrong and that he wants to change. On top of that, Peter, James, and John walk away from the greatest catch of their lifetime to follow Jesus.
One might wonder, why fishermen? Is it because they were simple people whose value was in their hands and not in their minds? I don’t believe that these were simple men. They were a part of what was essentially a fishing cooperative. They owned their boats and equipment, and they pooled their resources and labor to make the greatest profits. This cooperation extended across socioeconomic levels, incorporating both boat owners and day laborers as well as across generations, with tasks assigned to each as they were most fit. It reminds me of farming in the time of my grandpa and great grandpa, and we can appreciate the ingenuity and cooperation that it took to farm in those days. Far from being simple, these men were uniquely equipped with work ethics, problem-solving skills, experience in working side-by-side for a common goal, and, perhaps most importantly, the ability to understand that both success and failure were essentially outside of their hands.
It is important for us to realize that we are not all called to leave everything to follow Jesus. We are, however, called to be alert for evidence of the difference between what we want and what God wants. Isaiah probably went to the temple to pray for peace and prosperity for his country during uncertain times. Instead, he was sent into the chaos of a kingdom in decline to warn them of the consequences of their sinfulness. He declared his willingness to go after realizing how unworthy he was to be in the presence of God, much less serve him, and being cleansed of his sins. Peter, on the other hand, is not cleansed, but reassured with the invitation, “Do not be afraid.” Both appear to leave the certain for the uncertain -- the known for the chaos of the unknown. This shows us that there is no such thing as waiting for the perfect time; the world has been a chaotic place since Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden.
And that is precisely where the Good News is. There is no real certainty in our earthly lives -- only a false sense of comfort that does not satisfy. Certainty and order are found only in the Kingdom of God. Finally, that Kingdom is not an abstraction that we will see somewhere else in the by-and-by. We are invited to live Kingdom lives today. AMEN
Jesus was not taking a relaxing walk on the beach when he happened upon a group of fishermen. While it might seem like the crowd pushed Jesus into the boat, he led the crowd to the boat -- specifically the boat belonging to Simon Peter. It is likely that the fishermen knew Jesus at least through his reputation, and it is certain that Jesus knew who they were. We don’t get to hear any of Jesus’ message, but it must have been aimed at the fishermen, even as it was delivered to the crowd. I wonder if the fishermen were invigorated by what they heard, or if their eyelids began to droop during the sermon after a long night of fishless fishing. Either way, among the noises of people creaking their way into action after a period of sitting and listening, Jesus told Peter to put out into the deep water and lower his nets for the catch. I don’t know about Peter, but I doubt that anyone who made his living fishing was overly anxious to take fishing advice from a carpenter-turned-preacher. There must have been something about Jesus that kept him from arguing, even if it was the chance to prove the futility of fishing in the deep water during the day after a night without fish.
The resulting catch almost destroyed their nets and sunk both of their boats, and it caused Peter to do something almost as unexpected as taking fishing advice from a carpenter -- he admits that he was wrong and that he wants to change. On top of that, Peter, James, and John walk away from the greatest catch of their lifetime to follow Jesus.
One might wonder, why fishermen? Is it because they were simple people whose value was in their hands and not in their minds? I don’t believe that these were simple men. They were a part of what was essentially a fishing cooperative. They owned their boats and equipment, and they pooled their resources and labor to make the greatest profits. This cooperation extended across socioeconomic levels, incorporating both boat owners and day laborers as well as across generations, with tasks assigned to each as they were most fit. It reminds me of farming in the time of my grandpa and great grandpa, and we can appreciate the ingenuity and cooperation that it took to farm in those days. Far from being simple, these men were uniquely equipped with work ethics, problem-solving skills, experience in working side-by-side for a common goal, and, perhaps most importantly, the ability to understand that both success and failure were essentially outside of their hands.
It is important for us to realize that we are not all called to leave everything to follow Jesus. We are, however, called to be alert for evidence of the difference between what we want and what God wants. Isaiah probably went to the temple to pray for peace and prosperity for his country during uncertain times. Instead, he was sent into the chaos of a kingdom in decline to warn them of the consequences of their sinfulness. He declared his willingness to go after realizing how unworthy he was to be in the presence of God, much less serve him, and being cleansed of his sins. Peter, on the other hand, is not cleansed, but reassured with the invitation, “Do not be afraid.” Both appear to leave the certain for the uncertain -- the known for the chaos of the unknown. This shows us that there is no such thing as waiting for the perfect time; the world has been a chaotic place since Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden.
And that is precisely where the Good News is. There is no real certainty in our earthly lives -- only a false sense of comfort that does not satisfy. Certainty and order are found only in the Kingdom of God. Finally, that Kingdom is not an abstraction that we will see somewhere else in the by-and-by. We are invited to live Kingdom lives today. AMEN
Epiphany 4: January 30
The readings from the last two weeks have provided a window into the transition from the worship of Yaweh: the God of Abraham to the Jesus movement to Christianity. Last week, Ezra and others reintroduced the Word to a community that had been torn apart by the Babylonian Exile. When they began to weep, unable to reconcile their situation with the will of God, unable to imagine themselves as worth saving or God as being interested in such wretched creatures as themselves, Ezra told them: “Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” In spite of their weakness, the people matter to God. Perhaps more importantly, TODAY matters to God. They are to enjoy and share in the bounty that God provides.
In today’s OT reading, we hear the call story of Jeremiah. While Jeremiah warned the people that their unfaithfulness would lead to the Babylonian exile, preventing it was not his purpose. God tells Jeremiah: “Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.” This statement is loaded with implications -- none of them overly reassuring. The nations and kingdoms include a succession of truly bad kings and hostile governments. The people will be plucked up as their homeland is overthrown; the walls of their cities and their temple will be pulled down and destroyed. It is highly unlikely that anything planted by Jeremiah will grow, and if it does, he will almost certainly never harvest the fruit. It is one thing to tell people something that they don’t want to hear -- to warn them that their actions or inaction will have consequences. It is another thing to experience those consequences with them, but working alongside them to overcome what has happened to them because of their choice to ignore your warnings and to do so in spite of the fact that they resent you for it -- now that is not a gift that anyone would choose willingly.
While the prophecies of Ezra and Jeremiah were focused on the covenant relationship between God and the people of Israel, Jesus takes the prophecies of Isaiah and moves them forward. This is the culmination of a process that has been going on for some time. Once the God of Abraham is identified as the ordering and the generative power of the entire universe. It is no longer a private matter. Is this God of the Hebrews also the God of those who do not acknowledge him? Are those outside of the covenant somehow included in the plan and, if so, how? When Jesus says, “Doctor, cure yourself,” he is both echoing Satan’s tempting Jesus to save himself and forecasting the taunts that if he is, indeed, the King of the Jews, he should save himself at the crucifixion. What does it say about humanity that our idea of the ultimate proof of power is that the person who possesses it should use it on himself? It seems like we are simply unable to take advice, much less follow, someone who does not impress us with their worldly successes by flaunting them in front of us. The idea that a prophet is never accepted in his hometown follows the same principle. The benefits should begin at home before they flow into the wider community.
It is a reflection of this selfishness that we have reduced faith to a matter of individual salvation. Jesus died on the cross for MY sins -- to punch MY ticket to heaven. As a lovely bi-product, I can now behave just about however I like in the community. We can even quibble among denominations as to whose magic key best fits heaven’s gate. Unfortunately, this leaves us with a God as small-minded as we are. No wonder they tried to throw Jesus off a cliff -- this is hard! AMEN
The readings from the last two weeks have provided a window into the transition from the worship of Yaweh: the God of Abraham to the Jesus movement to Christianity. Last week, Ezra and others reintroduced the Word to a community that had been torn apart by the Babylonian Exile. When they began to weep, unable to reconcile their situation with the will of God, unable to imagine themselves as worth saving or God as being interested in such wretched creatures as themselves, Ezra told them: “Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” In spite of their weakness, the people matter to God. Perhaps more importantly, TODAY matters to God. They are to enjoy and share in the bounty that God provides.
In today’s OT reading, we hear the call story of Jeremiah. While Jeremiah warned the people that their unfaithfulness would lead to the Babylonian exile, preventing it was not his purpose. God tells Jeremiah: “Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.” This statement is loaded with implications -- none of them overly reassuring. The nations and kingdoms include a succession of truly bad kings and hostile governments. The people will be plucked up as their homeland is overthrown; the walls of their cities and their temple will be pulled down and destroyed. It is highly unlikely that anything planted by Jeremiah will grow, and if it does, he will almost certainly never harvest the fruit. It is one thing to tell people something that they don’t want to hear -- to warn them that their actions or inaction will have consequences. It is another thing to experience those consequences with them, but working alongside them to overcome what has happened to them because of their choice to ignore your warnings and to do so in spite of the fact that they resent you for it -- now that is not a gift that anyone would choose willingly.
While the prophecies of Ezra and Jeremiah were focused on the covenant relationship between God and the people of Israel, Jesus takes the prophecies of Isaiah and moves them forward. This is the culmination of a process that has been going on for some time. Once the God of Abraham is identified as the ordering and the generative power of the entire universe. It is no longer a private matter. Is this God of the Hebrews also the God of those who do not acknowledge him? Are those outside of the covenant somehow included in the plan and, if so, how? When Jesus says, “Doctor, cure yourself,” he is both echoing Satan’s tempting Jesus to save himself and forecasting the taunts that if he is, indeed, the King of the Jews, he should save himself at the crucifixion. What does it say about humanity that our idea of the ultimate proof of power is that the person who possesses it should use it on himself? It seems like we are simply unable to take advice, much less follow, someone who does not impress us with their worldly successes by flaunting them in front of us. The idea that a prophet is never accepted in his hometown follows the same principle. The benefits should begin at home before they flow into the wider community.
It is a reflection of this selfishness that we have reduced faith to a matter of individual salvation. Jesus died on the cross for MY sins -- to punch MY ticket to heaven. As a lovely bi-product, I can now behave just about however I like in the community. We can even quibble among denominations as to whose magic key best fits heaven’s gate. Unfortunately, this leaves us with a God as small-minded as we are. No wonder they tried to throw Jesus off a cliff -- this is hard! AMEN
Epiphany 3: January 23
In the first reading, Ezra is speaking to a gathering of people who have waited a lifetime for the Word of God. The Babylonian Exile lasted about fifty years, and it took those who returned about twenty years to rebuild the city walls and the temple. I’m not sure if the square in which Ezra read is inside of the temple walls or outside, but I do know that he did not teach alone. Since there was likely only one copy of the “book” or scroll, it is likely that as Ezra read from a raised platform, the “Levites who taught the people” were moving among them and “giving the sense, so that the people understood the reading.” In spite of the fact that the teachers were reassuring the people that “This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep.”, the people wept. This reminds me of the part of Revelation that we read at our last Bible study when John wept because no one was worthy to open the scroll. They have returned to their ancestral home, but the new temple is nowhere close to the glory of the original. Worse yet, they can clearly see that none of them is worthy in the eyes of the Lord. As our reading ends, Ezra assures them, “Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Being strong is not a matter of grim determination so that past wrongs can be righted in order to move toward a better tomorrow. Instead, strength is found when the community seizes the gifts of today and shares them.
I have always thought of today’s gospel reading as Jesus’ “mic drop” moment, as he reads from the scroll of Isaiah, gives one of the shortest sermons ever recorded, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”, and sits down. First of all, I have always had the order wrong; Jesus sits down before he speaks, which is the way that it was done at that time (and the reason that we call the people in charge of things “chairs”). Secondly, Luke says that Jesus “began to say to them,” which hardly seems necessary for a nine-word sermon. The part that I did have right was that every eye in the synagogue was fixed on Jesus. What do you suppose that they were thinking? At the time that Jesus spoke, interest in finding the messiah was at an all-time high, and many charismatic leaders had already laid claim to being the messiah. This talk about “the year of the Lord’s favor” likely reminded the listeners of the Year of the Jubilee from Leviticus. Although there is no evidence that Jubilee was ever observed, that didn’t keep leaders, both spiritual and political, from promising it. On the other hand, it has often been suggested that the hearers were pleased with the idea of Jesus’ bringing good news to the poor until they realized that might mean giving up something themselves. Whatever the case may be, we know that Jesus has arrived “filled with the spirit,” and that he is publicly announcing his incarnation -- the fact that he is not explaining the Word, but that he is the Word.
Today’s readings give us three glimpses into worship. Ezra’s teaching shows a transition from the role of the original Temple as a place of sacrifice to a place of teaching. Synagogues like the one that Jesus attended were designed primarily as community centers, and worship was not led by priests. Instead, the president would invite any distinguished person present to speak and then discussion and talk would follow. When Paul writes to the church in Corinth, he takes it a step further. While there are members who are gifted in the areas that we would think of as essentials for leadership in church, every member of the community plays a vital role in turning the Word into action. Speaking without listeners, listening without understanding, and understanding without impact are equally undesirable outcomes. It takes the whole community to follow Christ. AMEN
In the first reading, Ezra is speaking to a gathering of people who have waited a lifetime for the Word of God. The Babylonian Exile lasted about fifty years, and it took those who returned about twenty years to rebuild the city walls and the temple. I’m not sure if the square in which Ezra read is inside of the temple walls or outside, but I do know that he did not teach alone. Since there was likely only one copy of the “book” or scroll, it is likely that as Ezra read from a raised platform, the “Levites who taught the people” were moving among them and “giving the sense, so that the people understood the reading.” In spite of the fact that the teachers were reassuring the people that “This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep.”, the people wept. This reminds me of the part of Revelation that we read at our last Bible study when John wept because no one was worthy to open the scroll. They have returned to their ancestral home, but the new temple is nowhere close to the glory of the original. Worse yet, they can clearly see that none of them is worthy in the eyes of the Lord. As our reading ends, Ezra assures them, “Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Being strong is not a matter of grim determination so that past wrongs can be righted in order to move toward a better tomorrow. Instead, strength is found when the community seizes the gifts of today and shares them.
I have always thought of today’s gospel reading as Jesus’ “mic drop” moment, as he reads from the scroll of Isaiah, gives one of the shortest sermons ever recorded, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”, and sits down. First of all, I have always had the order wrong; Jesus sits down before he speaks, which is the way that it was done at that time (and the reason that we call the people in charge of things “chairs”). Secondly, Luke says that Jesus “began to say to them,” which hardly seems necessary for a nine-word sermon. The part that I did have right was that every eye in the synagogue was fixed on Jesus. What do you suppose that they were thinking? At the time that Jesus spoke, interest in finding the messiah was at an all-time high, and many charismatic leaders had already laid claim to being the messiah. This talk about “the year of the Lord’s favor” likely reminded the listeners of the Year of the Jubilee from Leviticus. Although there is no evidence that Jubilee was ever observed, that didn’t keep leaders, both spiritual and political, from promising it. On the other hand, it has often been suggested that the hearers were pleased with the idea of Jesus’ bringing good news to the poor until they realized that might mean giving up something themselves. Whatever the case may be, we know that Jesus has arrived “filled with the spirit,” and that he is publicly announcing his incarnation -- the fact that he is not explaining the Word, but that he is the Word.
Today’s readings give us three glimpses into worship. Ezra’s teaching shows a transition from the role of the original Temple as a place of sacrifice to a place of teaching. Synagogues like the one that Jesus attended were designed primarily as community centers, and worship was not led by priests. Instead, the president would invite any distinguished person present to speak and then discussion and talk would follow. When Paul writes to the church in Corinth, he takes it a step further. While there are members who are gifted in the areas that we would think of as essentials for leadership in church, every member of the community plays a vital role in turning the Word into action. Speaking without listeners, listening without understanding, and understanding without impact are equally undesirable outcomes. It takes the whole community to follow Christ. AMEN
Epiphany 2: January 16, 2022
Most of us know that Advent is a time of anticipation leading up to Christmas, but I am here to tell you that there is something even better, even more exciting that Christmas. Even better, we are just getting started on it, and it lasts much longer than twelve days. “What is it?” you might ask. It is Epiphany. On the first Sunday of Christmas, we celebrated the Nativity. On the second Sunday, we observed something more important -- the Incarnation. How can things possibly get any better? Think about it this way: we spend Advent waiting to open our present (we are getting one huge present, not several small ones). On Christmas, we have the excitement of unwrapping the gift, but it is not yet possible for us to appreciate the gift -- the generosity of the giver and the magnificence of the gift need some time to sink in. We also realize that we are in no way worthy of such a gift, so we feel a bit guilty as well. In Epiphany, we spend time being reassured that the gift really was for us, that it is ours and nobody is going to take it away from us. As we spend more time with the gift, we also discover that it is even more magnificent than we imagined it to be; we have an epiphany (or a series of them), which is: a moment in which you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way.
It is only the second Sunday of Epiphany, and we have already seen the Holy Spirit descend upon Jesus at his baptism. This week, we read part of Isaiah’s poem of reassurance to the Israelites as they return from exile. The verse that sets today’s reading up, Isaiah 61:11, is too beautiful not to share: “For as the earth brings forth its sprouts, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to sprout up before all the nations.” The blessings of the Lord will rain down on the people of Israel not only to benefit them, but also for the good of all the nations. The turning of water into wine is the first of the signs in John’s gospel, a gospel that was written so that every reader might have an epiphany and come to believe. It reveals Jesus as a miracle worker.
The reading from First Corinthians gives us news that is almost unbelievable: when we use our gifts for God’s purpose, we too reveal the work of the spirit! Best of all, every one of us has this capacity -- “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” or, as the Message translation puts it, “Each person is given something to do that shows who God is: Everyone gets in on it, everyone benefits.” The importance of the individual is beautifully interwoven with the necessity of community in this passage. The fact that each of us has a gift should come as no surprise. After all, our very lives, not to mention the existence of everything in creation, is a gift from God. It is also unsurprising that most of human history is composed of comparing our gifts with those of others, fighting over whose gifts are best, and complaining about the unequal distribution of gifts. Instead of celebrating diversity, we all too often strive for uniformity as we try to appear successful by having the right stuff, knowing the right people, having the right opinions, and attempting to meet the world’s standards of physical fitness and beauty. In the end, it is not our differences that divide us; it is pride in our differences that do that.
Paul’s message is blessedly simple. It is not the gifts that matter because we all share the essential gift: the ability to witness for Christ. We don’t need to lament our shortcomings as public speakers, writers, or interpreters of the Bible because we each have a unique form of ministry. We all have the capacity to grasp the essential truth of Christ, even if we can’t understand a blessed word of the book of Revelation, and when we bring our gifts together, we can shine like the Son. AMEN
Most of us know that Advent is a time of anticipation leading up to Christmas, but I am here to tell you that there is something even better, even more exciting that Christmas. Even better, we are just getting started on it, and it lasts much longer than twelve days. “What is it?” you might ask. It is Epiphany. On the first Sunday of Christmas, we celebrated the Nativity. On the second Sunday, we observed something more important -- the Incarnation. How can things possibly get any better? Think about it this way: we spend Advent waiting to open our present (we are getting one huge present, not several small ones). On Christmas, we have the excitement of unwrapping the gift, but it is not yet possible for us to appreciate the gift -- the generosity of the giver and the magnificence of the gift need some time to sink in. We also realize that we are in no way worthy of such a gift, so we feel a bit guilty as well. In Epiphany, we spend time being reassured that the gift really was for us, that it is ours and nobody is going to take it away from us. As we spend more time with the gift, we also discover that it is even more magnificent than we imagined it to be; we have an epiphany (or a series of them), which is: a moment in which you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way.
It is only the second Sunday of Epiphany, and we have already seen the Holy Spirit descend upon Jesus at his baptism. This week, we read part of Isaiah’s poem of reassurance to the Israelites as they return from exile. The verse that sets today’s reading up, Isaiah 61:11, is too beautiful not to share: “For as the earth brings forth its sprouts, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to sprout up before all the nations.” The blessings of the Lord will rain down on the people of Israel not only to benefit them, but also for the good of all the nations. The turning of water into wine is the first of the signs in John’s gospel, a gospel that was written so that every reader might have an epiphany and come to believe. It reveals Jesus as a miracle worker.
The reading from First Corinthians gives us news that is almost unbelievable: when we use our gifts for God’s purpose, we too reveal the work of the spirit! Best of all, every one of us has this capacity -- “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” or, as the Message translation puts it, “Each person is given something to do that shows who God is: Everyone gets in on it, everyone benefits.” The importance of the individual is beautifully interwoven with the necessity of community in this passage. The fact that each of us has a gift should come as no surprise. After all, our very lives, not to mention the existence of everything in creation, is a gift from God. It is also unsurprising that most of human history is composed of comparing our gifts with those of others, fighting over whose gifts are best, and complaining about the unequal distribution of gifts. Instead of celebrating diversity, we all too often strive for uniformity as we try to appear successful by having the right stuff, knowing the right people, having the right opinions, and attempting to meet the world’s standards of physical fitness and beauty. In the end, it is not our differences that divide us; it is pride in our differences that do that.
Paul’s message is blessedly simple. It is not the gifts that matter because we all share the essential gift: the ability to witness for Christ. We don’t need to lament our shortcomings as public speakers, writers, or interpreters of the Bible because we each have a unique form of ministry. We all have the capacity to grasp the essential truth of Christ, even if we can’t understand a blessed word of the book of Revelation, and when we bring our gifts together, we can shine like the Son. AMEN
Baptism of our Lord: January 9
I have always felt like John the Baptist’s message that Jesus was coming with a winnowing fork in hand and unquenchable fire at the ready showed a fundamental understanding of who Jesus was. It seems like John’s understanding of how a messiah would function in the world is just as wrong as everyone else’s. This seems odd in light of the fact that the entire purpose of John’s life was to set the stage for Jesus. As I have spent more time with Luke’s account of Jesus’ baptism, I have begun to think that John had a better understanding of Jesus than I had previously believed.
We all know that John’s was a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin; not only did people need to turn away from their sin, they were being prepared to turn toward something entirely new. Last week, we studied the incarnation -- the fact that Jesus was the mind of God in human flesh. Jesus made it possible for us to see God and to know God in an intimate way. The first step, of course, is to look at Jesus. At first glance, the image of Jesus on the threshing floor might frighten us into viewing God’s purpose through Jesus as condemning and destroying those who are evil. We might overlook the image of Jesus gathering the wheat into his granary and overemphasize the burning of the chaff with unquenchable fire. Threshing, though, is not an act of violence perpetrated on innocent, unsuspecting wheat. It is simply the necessary act of removing the parts of the plant that are indigestible. These parts all had functions while the plant was growing, and when the harvested seeds are planted, more chaff will be produced.
Some say that only the image of the wheat as the saved and the chaff as the damned will convey a message strong enough to drive people to repentance, but I disagree. If we look at ourselves as the whole plant, chaff and all, we need to acknowledge that there are parts of us that are not only inessential, but that are harmful to us. The word in Greek used for wind and spirit is the same word, pneuma. The spirit and wind help to separate the usable from the unusable parts of the plant. In the same way, the Spirit helps us to separate the unusable in our lives and our faith, which then prepares us for ministry. Like the vines that need to be pruned, we cannot bear good fruit unless these parts are removed. John tells us that Jesus will take those parts and burn them in unquenchable fire. We are lucky that the fire is unquenchable, because this threshing is not a one-time action. Just as the seed is planted, grows (producing more chaff, along with some useful by-products), and again goes through the threshing process, we are in a continual cycle of growth and pruning.
While we can’t thresh or prune ourselves, Luke makes it very clear how Jesus modeled repentance and the importance of cutting through the chaff throughout his life. First of all, Jesus is a part of the crowd on the day of his baptism. There is no indication that anyone, including John (if it was John who baptized Jesus -- Luke doesn’t tell us that either), noticed Jesus among the many people who were baptized that day. It is unclear whether or not others could see the heavens open and the dove descending, but we know that this was the action of the Holy Spirit, the action that differentiates Jesus’ baptism from John’s baptism, that Peter and John brought to the early converts by laying hands on them, the action that replaces water from the church kitchen with the miracle of salvation.
Jesus begins as one of the crowd and ends up being acknowledged as the Son of God -- once again, the spirit has hovered over the waters, created something and called it good. Most importantly, it happened when Jesus began to pray, which is an act of repentance that Jesus repeats frequently in Luke: Jesus prays all night before he chooses the twelve disciples, before the Transfiguration, Jesus went to the mountain in order to pray and is transfigured while he is praying, and Jesus also prays for those who are crucifying him.
Jesus has shown us that repentance isn’t about turning away from sin (Jesus never sinned). It is about repeatedly turning toward God in prayer. AMEN
I have always felt like John the Baptist’s message that Jesus was coming with a winnowing fork in hand and unquenchable fire at the ready showed a fundamental understanding of who Jesus was. It seems like John’s understanding of how a messiah would function in the world is just as wrong as everyone else’s. This seems odd in light of the fact that the entire purpose of John’s life was to set the stage for Jesus. As I have spent more time with Luke’s account of Jesus’ baptism, I have begun to think that John had a better understanding of Jesus than I had previously believed.
We all know that John’s was a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin; not only did people need to turn away from their sin, they were being prepared to turn toward something entirely new. Last week, we studied the incarnation -- the fact that Jesus was the mind of God in human flesh. Jesus made it possible for us to see God and to know God in an intimate way. The first step, of course, is to look at Jesus. At first glance, the image of Jesus on the threshing floor might frighten us into viewing God’s purpose through Jesus as condemning and destroying those who are evil. We might overlook the image of Jesus gathering the wheat into his granary and overemphasize the burning of the chaff with unquenchable fire. Threshing, though, is not an act of violence perpetrated on innocent, unsuspecting wheat. It is simply the necessary act of removing the parts of the plant that are indigestible. These parts all had functions while the plant was growing, and when the harvested seeds are planted, more chaff will be produced.
Some say that only the image of the wheat as the saved and the chaff as the damned will convey a message strong enough to drive people to repentance, but I disagree. If we look at ourselves as the whole plant, chaff and all, we need to acknowledge that there are parts of us that are not only inessential, but that are harmful to us. The word in Greek used for wind and spirit is the same word, pneuma. The spirit and wind help to separate the usable from the unusable parts of the plant. In the same way, the Spirit helps us to separate the unusable in our lives and our faith, which then prepares us for ministry. Like the vines that need to be pruned, we cannot bear good fruit unless these parts are removed. John tells us that Jesus will take those parts and burn them in unquenchable fire. We are lucky that the fire is unquenchable, because this threshing is not a one-time action. Just as the seed is planted, grows (producing more chaff, along with some useful by-products), and again goes through the threshing process, we are in a continual cycle of growth and pruning.
While we can’t thresh or prune ourselves, Luke makes it very clear how Jesus modeled repentance and the importance of cutting through the chaff throughout his life. First of all, Jesus is a part of the crowd on the day of his baptism. There is no indication that anyone, including John (if it was John who baptized Jesus -- Luke doesn’t tell us that either), noticed Jesus among the many people who were baptized that day. It is unclear whether or not others could see the heavens open and the dove descending, but we know that this was the action of the Holy Spirit, the action that differentiates Jesus’ baptism from John’s baptism, that Peter and John brought to the early converts by laying hands on them, the action that replaces water from the church kitchen with the miracle of salvation.
Jesus begins as one of the crowd and ends up being acknowledged as the Son of God -- once again, the spirit has hovered over the waters, created something and called it good. Most importantly, it happened when Jesus began to pray, which is an act of repentance that Jesus repeats frequently in Luke: Jesus prays all night before he chooses the twelve disciples, before the Transfiguration, Jesus went to the mountain in order to pray and is transfigured while he is praying, and Jesus also prays for those who are crucifying him.
Jesus has shown us that repentance isn’t about turning away from sin (Jesus never sinned). It is about repeatedly turning toward God in prayer. AMEN
Christmas Too: January 2, 2022
It’s the ninth day of Christmas, and the lectionary has given to us -- some beautiful readings and John’s account of the Incarnation. Unlike “Nativity,” the word Incarnation doesn’t get used much during the Christmas season, just as details from John’s gospel seldom (never?) appear in Christmas pageants. Although it becomes specific to the birth of Jesus when capitalized, “nativity” just means being born in a place -- like being native to a place. While Jesus’ place of birth is important because it fulfills the prophecy, reinforces Joseph’s connection to David, and even shows obedience to the laws of men, Martin Luther would likely become quite upset if he heard “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Just imagine a Sunday School program when, after the narrator says, “because there was no room in the inn,” they then declare, “They heard that a young wife was lying in a cow stall and no one gave heed. Shame on you, wretched Bethlehem!” It is one thing to have been ignorant of the implications of Jesus’ birth. After all, Mary was literally the only person on earth who truly believed that Jesus was “the Son of the Highest.” It is quite another to lack the basic human decency to give your space to a pregnant woman.
To celebrate the Incarnation is to move the focus from the observation that Jesus was born in Bethlehem to the fact “ the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.” William Barclay said that this verse, John 1:14, is “one of the verses of scripture of which a lifetime of study and thought could not exhaust the truth,” so I won’t attempt a full explanation. The word translated as “lived” literally means that Jesus “pitched his tent” or “tabernacled” among us, or, as the Message translates it, the Word “moved into the neighborhood.” Barclay tells us that ““The Mind of God became a person.”
It is impossible to overstate the importance of the Incarnation. It means that God’s promise to be with God’s people wherever they are has expanded. Now God not only goes where God’s people go, He is who they are. Not only is Jesus the light of the world, He is also the light of our home, where we live and breathe and have our being. He is our light, and that light shines in, throughout, and from our very being. Because God’s Word became flesh, our adoption and accompanying inheritance spoken of so often in Ephesians are possible. But wait, there’s more! The fact that God’s Word, the Word that came and pitched his tent among us, has existed since before creation means that God was always like Jesus. As Barclay put it, “What Jesus did was to open a window in time that we might see the eternal and unchanging love of God.” Instead of limiting Christ’s presence on earth to December, we can celebrate that Christ comes among us in the gathered assembly, through the scriptures, in the waters of new birth and baptism, in the bread, and in the wind. Through every ordinary gift, we receive the fullness of God’s grace and truth. Finally, God’s decisive and intentional entry into the world means that God blesses the world; once again, God has looked upon creation and said, “It is good.”
That leaves us with the hard part of John 1: “He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” It seems that this pattern of recognition and nonrecognition, reception and rejection of the Word is also eternal. Part of the problem is that the light of God’s grace, while it reveals and offers the limitless kindness of the love of God, also emphasizes our poverty and shabbiness. Of course we prefer the glory available in ordinary life, the glory of reputation, even though it is built on publicity and peer review by people just as fouled up as we are. Without the miracle of the Incarnation, our will simply wants what it wants, and anything that gets in the way is denied and pushed aside.
Another part of the problem is the church. Jesus’ earthly fate was sealed the moment that he tabernacled outside of the tabernacle -- when he refused to conform to the structure of religion. The history of Christianity seems to consist largely of an attempt to get him back inside the building. Fully accepting that our status as children of God is unearned and underserved means that no one can be a stranger to Christ. He has already met them and touched them in some way. If that is true, no one can be a stranger to those who are in Christ. With the dawning of this Light, all should be approached and all should be welcomed. God does not live at the church. In fact, God can be found only where human brokenness is understood and not shunned. The law was given through Moses, and Jesus did not come to abolish the law. Instead, the Incarnation revealed how the author of the law lived within the law as it was intended, not as religion interpreted it. AMEN
It’s the ninth day of Christmas, and the lectionary has given to us -- some beautiful readings and John’s account of the Incarnation. Unlike “Nativity,” the word Incarnation doesn’t get used much during the Christmas season, just as details from John’s gospel seldom (never?) appear in Christmas pageants. Although it becomes specific to the birth of Jesus when capitalized, “nativity” just means being born in a place -- like being native to a place. While Jesus’ place of birth is important because it fulfills the prophecy, reinforces Joseph’s connection to David, and even shows obedience to the laws of men, Martin Luther would likely become quite upset if he heard “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Just imagine a Sunday School program when, after the narrator says, “because there was no room in the inn,” they then declare, “They heard that a young wife was lying in a cow stall and no one gave heed. Shame on you, wretched Bethlehem!” It is one thing to have been ignorant of the implications of Jesus’ birth. After all, Mary was literally the only person on earth who truly believed that Jesus was “the Son of the Highest.” It is quite another to lack the basic human decency to give your space to a pregnant woman.
To celebrate the Incarnation is to move the focus from the observation that Jesus was born in Bethlehem to the fact “ the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.” William Barclay said that this verse, John 1:14, is “one of the verses of scripture of which a lifetime of study and thought could not exhaust the truth,” so I won’t attempt a full explanation. The word translated as “lived” literally means that Jesus “pitched his tent” or “tabernacled” among us, or, as the Message translates it, the Word “moved into the neighborhood.” Barclay tells us that ““The Mind of God became a person.”
It is impossible to overstate the importance of the Incarnation. It means that God’s promise to be with God’s people wherever they are has expanded. Now God not only goes where God’s people go, He is who they are. Not only is Jesus the light of the world, He is also the light of our home, where we live and breathe and have our being. He is our light, and that light shines in, throughout, and from our very being. Because God’s Word became flesh, our adoption and accompanying inheritance spoken of so often in Ephesians are possible. But wait, there’s more! The fact that God’s Word, the Word that came and pitched his tent among us, has existed since before creation means that God was always like Jesus. As Barclay put it, “What Jesus did was to open a window in time that we might see the eternal and unchanging love of God.” Instead of limiting Christ’s presence on earth to December, we can celebrate that Christ comes among us in the gathered assembly, through the scriptures, in the waters of new birth and baptism, in the bread, and in the wind. Through every ordinary gift, we receive the fullness of God’s grace and truth. Finally, God’s decisive and intentional entry into the world means that God blesses the world; once again, God has looked upon creation and said, “It is good.”
That leaves us with the hard part of John 1: “He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” It seems that this pattern of recognition and nonrecognition, reception and rejection of the Word is also eternal. Part of the problem is that the light of God’s grace, while it reveals and offers the limitless kindness of the love of God, also emphasizes our poverty and shabbiness. Of course we prefer the glory available in ordinary life, the glory of reputation, even though it is built on publicity and peer review by people just as fouled up as we are. Without the miracle of the Incarnation, our will simply wants what it wants, and anything that gets in the way is denied and pushed aside.
Another part of the problem is the church. Jesus’ earthly fate was sealed the moment that he tabernacled outside of the tabernacle -- when he refused to conform to the structure of religion. The history of Christianity seems to consist largely of an attempt to get him back inside the building. Fully accepting that our status as children of God is unearned and underserved means that no one can be a stranger to Christ. He has already met them and touched them in some way. If that is true, no one can be a stranger to those who are in Christ. With the dawning of this Light, all should be approached and all should be welcomed. God does not live at the church. In fact, God can be found only where human brokenness is understood and not shunned. The law was given through Moses, and Jesus did not come to abolish the law. Instead, the Incarnation revealed how the author of the law lived within the law as it was intended, not as religion interpreted it. AMEN
Advent 4: December 19,2021
Let’s back up just a bit in Luke to remind ourselves of Elizabeth’s circumstances. Zechariah was a priest in a rural area. The service at which the angel Gabriel visited him was probably one of the only times that he had entered the sanctuary. Although he was of a priestly line, he wasn’t of the priestly class. He and Elizabeth were both at least 60, and their lives can be summed up with the statement that they are both righteous yet childless. We aren’t sure what Zechariah’s prayer had been, but it likely included the restoration of Israel and maybe a wistful request for a son. Gabriel promises him both, but Zechariah asks for proof. As a result, he is struck mute. Contrast that to Elizabeth’s reaction: “This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” There are some intriguing, unanswered questions in this story. We know from the response that Zechariah got from the people waiting for Zechariah outside of the sanctuary realized almost immediately that he had experienced a vision. Imagine Zechariah’s frustration -- after a lifetime of nondescript service, he finally had something worth saying, and he couldn’t speak. How could he possibly have explained what had happened to his wife, much less that she was pregnant? Of course, there wasn’t paper and pencil handy. Imagine an older man who was probably usually dignified trying to pantomime pregnancy to his wife with absolutely no context!
Whenever and however Elizabeth realized that she was pregnant (and I believe that she knew it long before any physical signs “proved” it, don’t you?) she was five months along when Mary came to visit. We don’t know why she had remained in seclusion during this time, and it is unlikely that she knew that Mary was coming or that Mary was obviously pregnant. Her greeting to Mary, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” Is pure prophecy and gratitude. It may be that Elizabeth’s pregnancy only made sense to her when she saw Mary, and it is almost certain that Mary would not have spoken the words of the Magnificat without seeing Elizabeth.
Had Mary and Elizabeth been men, we would expect them to look for an audience with whom to share their prophecies -- prophecies that resulted from the ability to discern the Word of God in the message of Gabriel, a message that had eluded Zechariah. Perhaps we have wondered how Mary was able to believe what Gabriel told her, much less say yes to it. The best explanation is that, as Scot McKnight says in his book, The Real Mary: Why Evangelical Christians Can Embrace the Mother of Jesus, “(Mary) knew the stories about other women who were protected by God -- women whose stories are found in the Bible, women like Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba, women whom Matthew singles out when he writes his genealogy that leads to Joseph, Mary, and Jesus.” It is no coincidence that Elizabeth’s story so closely parallels that of so many other faithful women who had longed for children.
But it is not only the faith that God will take care of her that gives Mary strength. As a person of faith, she was also responding to the prophets’ assurance that the mighty (like Herod) would be cast down and a king from the line of David would restore her people to their rightful place. Mary didn’t go to see Elizabeth because she was afraid of what would happen to her when the community found out that she was pregnant -- she was visibly pregnant when she returned. She was drawn to Elizabeth because together they could articulate how God had blessed them -- that their salvation was a “done deal” because God keeps God’s promises. AMEN
Let’s back up just a bit in Luke to remind ourselves of Elizabeth’s circumstances. Zechariah was a priest in a rural area. The service at which the angel Gabriel visited him was probably one of the only times that he had entered the sanctuary. Although he was of a priestly line, he wasn’t of the priestly class. He and Elizabeth were both at least 60, and their lives can be summed up with the statement that they are both righteous yet childless. We aren’t sure what Zechariah’s prayer had been, but it likely included the restoration of Israel and maybe a wistful request for a son. Gabriel promises him both, but Zechariah asks for proof. As a result, he is struck mute. Contrast that to Elizabeth’s reaction: “This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” There are some intriguing, unanswered questions in this story. We know from the response that Zechariah got from the people waiting for Zechariah outside of the sanctuary realized almost immediately that he had experienced a vision. Imagine Zechariah’s frustration -- after a lifetime of nondescript service, he finally had something worth saying, and he couldn’t speak. How could he possibly have explained what had happened to his wife, much less that she was pregnant? Of course, there wasn’t paper and pencil handy. Imagine an older man who was probably usually dignified trying to pantomime pregnancy to his wife with absolutely no context!
Whenever and however Elizabeth realized that she was pregnant (and I believe that she knew it long before any physical signs “proved” it, don’t you?) she was five months along when Mary came to visit. We don’t know why she had remained in seclusion during this time, and it is unlikely that she knew that Mary was coming or that Mary was obviously pregnant. Her greeting to Mary, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” Is pure prophecy and gratitude. It may be that Elizabeth’s pregnancy only made sense to her when she saw Mary, and it is almost certain that Mary would not have spoken the words of the Magnificat without seeing Elizabeth.
Had Mary and Elizabeth been men, we would expect them to look for an audience with whom to share their prophecies -- prophecies that resulted from the ability to discern the Word of God in the message of Gabriel, a message that had eluded Zechariah. Perhaps we have wondered how Mary was able to believe what Gabriel told her, much less say yes to it. The best explanation is that, as Scot McKnight says in his book, The Real Mary: Why Evangelical Christians Can Embrace the Mother of Jesus, “(Mary) knew the stories about other women who were protected by God -- women whose stories are found in the Bible, women like Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba, women whom Matthew singles out when he writes his genealogy that leads to Joseph, Mary, and Jesus.” It is no coincidence that Elizabeth’s story so closely parallels that of so many other faithful women who had longed for children.
But it is not only the faith that God will take care of her that gives Mary strength. As a person of faith, she was also responding to the prophets’ assurance that the mighty (like Herod) would be cast down and a king from the line of David would restore her people to their rightful place. Mary didn’t go to see Elizabeth because she was afraid of what would happen to her when the community found out that she was pregnant -- she was visibly pregnant when she returned. She was drawn to Elizabeth because together they could articulate how God had blessed them -- that their salvation was a “done deal” because God keeps God’s promises. AMEN
Advent 2: December 5
In today’s readings we hear from Malachi, a minor prophet whose book is the last in the Old Testament, and John the Baptist, the last of his kind of prophet. Like most prophets, Malachi spoke to a specific group of people with a specific message. In his case, it was the Israelites who had been exiled to Babylon for about 70 years, and had been back in Judah for about 100 years. The language of “preparing the way” from both Luke and Malachi comes from Isaiah, and it had been addressed to the same group as they had prepared to return to Judah. When they returned, the temple was rebuilt, and there was an expectation that the fulfillment of the covenant was imminent. A hundred years later, the priestly class had returned to taking care of themselves through corruption, and expectation had given way to apathy for the things of God and spiritual lethargy. The placement of Malachi makes it clear that the messenger who is coming is John, who will be followed closely by the Promised One, the Messiah. This message was dismissed. The people had heard it before: when they were led out of Egypt to the Promised Land, when they left Babylon to return to Judah, and many times in between. If the Messiah was coming, which was far from a sure thing, there was certainly no rush to get ready. Malachi tells them that not only is the Lord coming, but the Lord is coming to clean house.
Now, there is clean, and then there is clean. Think about a parent asking a child to clean his room. The kid might kick a few things into the closet or under the bed and feel that the room is clean, or at least clean enough. Imagine the parent’s response when the kid either leaves the room or starts playing video games five minutes after they started cleaning. I picture laundry baskets, trash bags, brooms, mops, vacuum cleaners, and a variety of chemicals being brought to the room, signalling the beginning of a cleaning frenzy that will leave everything in its path scrubbed and disinfected. No, your room is not clean enough, and your faith is not strong enough.
After listing a bunch of names, none of which we would recognize except for their roles in killing John and Jesus, Luke introduces John with a quote from Isaiah that gives us our first hint that things are different this time. The flattening of the mountains and the filling of the valleys will be done by God, and it will be done for all people. Instead the word of God going to the “important” people, prophetic authority comes to John. Instead of going to the city to warn the people, John stays in the wilderness, which has always been a formative place for God’s people. He works up and down the Jordan, the river Israel crossed to enter the promised land under Joshua, which is “Jesus” in Greek. His message echoes Malachi’s -- Indifference is a sin too. Take a look at what is keeping you so busy that you can’t attend to your faith. Have a second look at your room. Is it really clean enough to withstand a thorough inspection? Can’t you feel that something is out of whack here? Don’t you feel like something is missing? Turn away from yourself and look to God.
Don’t you think that is the perfect message for us today? The purpose of Advent isn’t to float gently into Christmas, and the point of Christmas isn’t to pack as many gatherings and events into December as we possibly can. Advent is the time to ask the question, “Who can stand before the Lord?”, or, “How would I bear up if I was held accountable for my life so far?” John stayed in the wilderness for a reason. The wasteland was free from the interference of authorities, whether from the government or the church. The people who were there were there on purpose. There were no inessential distractions. You could see the stars and listen to the wind. On the other hand, if you got lazy or careless, you were dead. Most of us prefer at least some degree of civilization, yet we find ourselves in the spiritual wilderness more often than not. Advent is a time to intentionally seek the wilderness, to reorient ourselves, and to shake off our indifference toward God. AMEN
In today’s readings we hear from Malachi, a minor prophet whose book is the last in the Old Testament, and John the Baptist, the last of his kind of prophet. Like most prophets, Malachi spoke to a specific group of people with a specific message. In his case, it was the Israelites who had been exiled to Babylon for about 70 years, and had been back in Judah for about 100 years. The language of “preparing the way” from both Luke and Malachi comes from Isaiah, and it had been addressed to the same group as they had prepared to return to Judah. When they returned, the temple was rebuilt, and there was an expectation that the fulfillment of the covenant was imminent. A hundred years later, the priestly class had returned to taking care of themselves through corruption, and expectation had given way to apathy for the things of God and spiritual lethargy. The placement of Malachi makes it clear that the messenger who is coming is John, who will be followed closely by the Promised One, the Messiah. This message was dismissed. The people had heard it before: when they were led out of Egypt to the Promised Land, when they left Babylon to return to Judah, and many times in between. If the Messiah was coming, which was far from a sure thing, there was certainly no rush to get ready. Malachi tells them that not only is the Lord coming, but the Lord is coming to clean house.
Now, there is clean, and then there is clean. Think about a parent asking a child to clean his room. The kid might kick a few things into the closet or under the bed and feel that the room is clean, or at least clean enough. Imagine the parent’s response when the kid either leaves the room or starts playing video games five minutes after they started cleaning. I picture laundry baskets, trash bags, brooms, mops, vacuum cleaners, and a variety of chemicals being brought to the room, signalling the beginning of a cleaning frenzy that will leave everything in its path scrubbed and disinfected. No, your room is not clean enough, and your faith is not strong enough.
After listing a bunch of names, none of which we would recognize except for their roles in killing John and Jesus, Luke introduces John with a quote from Isaiah that gives us our first hint that things are different this time. The flattening of the mountains and the filling of the valleys will be done by God, and it will be done for all people. Instead the word of God going to the “important” people, prophetic authority comes to John. Instead of going to the city to warn the people, John stays in the wilderness, which has always been a formative place for God’s people. He works up and down the Jordan, the river Israel crossed to enter the promised land under Joshua, which is “Jesus” in Greek. His message echoes Malachi’s -- Indifference is a sin too. Take a look at what is keeping you so busy that you can’t attend to your faith. Have a second look at your room. Is it really clean enough to withstand a thorough inspection? Can’t you feel that something is out of whack here? Don’t you feel like something is missing? Turn away from yourself and look to God.
Don’t you think that is the perfect message for us today? The purpose of Advent isn’t to float gently into Christmas, and the point of Christmas isn’t to pack as many gatherings and events into December as we possibly can. Advent is the time to ask the question, “Who can stand before the Lord?”, or, “How would I bear up if I was held accountable for my life so far?” John stayed in the wilderness for a reason. The wasteland was free from the interference of authorities, whether from the government or the church. The people who were there were there on purpose. There were no inessential distractions. You could see the stars and listen to the wind. On the other hand, if you got lazy or careless, you were dead. Most of us prefer at least some degree of civilization, yet we find ourselves in the spiritual wilderness more often than not. Advent is a time to intentionally seek the wilderness, to reorient ourselves, and to shake off our indifference toward God. AMEN
Advent 1, November 28, 2021
Happy New Year! We begin the season of Advent with assurance from God via the prophet Jeremiah: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah.” In Jeremiah, God speaks into a world where the ruins of the temple are still smouldering, and the “House of David” seems to be buried beneath it, with the assurance that a shoot will emerge from the seemingly lifeless stump - a righteous branch of David. All evidence to the contrary aside, God fulfills God’s promises. This branch will bring righteousness. That doesn’t mean that people will suddenly begin to behave better, but that a right relationship with God will be restored. As a result, “Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.” This righteousness is part of the process of redemption. We often look at redemption on an individual level, as in, “Jesus died for my sins.” While there is truth there, it misses the big picture. Redemption involves the restoration of the relationship that Adam and Eve had with God -- a relationship in which all of creation is in harmony with God. The humble goal of living in safety is a statement of that harmony. All of the things that have happened to creation will be gone. In short, there will be nothing to worry about.
We heard about worry in Wednesday’s reading as we considered the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. Today’s Gospel reading starts off with a list of signs that will cause people to “faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world. The powers of heaven will be shaken.” This passage reminds us that while the powers of heaven and the powers of earth are separate, they are connected. This kind of both-and, or paradox, is not at all uncommon in the story of our faith. The infant Jesus is both a baby born in a manger, and a Savior who is Christ the Lord. Jesus teaches us that, in order to keep our lives, we need to lose them. He tells the disciples that he has not come to bring peace, but division, yet when he returns, he declares “peace be with you.” Finally, the crucifixion of Jesus, who was both fully God and fully human, led to both death and new life. For humanity, who are both saints and sinners, there is always more going on than meets the eye. As Susay Garret puts it, “the battle between good and evil plays out both on earth and in heaven.”
The first section of our gospel concludes, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Notice that it is not “the end” that is drawing near, but redemption. In Mark’s version, which we looked at a few weeks ago, the disciples asked how to read the signs. Jesus makes that unnecessary here. The “Son of Man coming in a cloud” will be as obvious as the budding trees that indicate spring. Although some may be quicker to notice than others, it seems unlikely that anyone would completely miss spring and summer unless…
The signs are all around us: distress among the nations, confusion, people distancing themselves from God -- just look around! As your awareness of the signs grows, look within yourself. We can’t even keep our own houses in order, much less the Kingdom of God, so we’d better look out! But that’s useless too, because heaven and earth will pass away no matter what we do. All that is left is to look up, to lift up our heads, and that is repentance. According to Buechner: “To repent is to come to your senses. It is not so much something you do as something that happens. True repentance spends less time looking at the past and saying, “I’m sorry,” than to the future and saying, “Wow!” Most definitions of repentance involve changing our ways because we are sorry, but if we stay there, our focus is on what is behind us -- worry.
The reading ends, “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.” We are to be on our guard not against the destruction of the world as we know it and the return of Christ; that is going to happen whether we are ready or not, but against the things that keep us looking in the wrong direction, “dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.” For those of us who consider ourselves “saved,” the greatest obstacle might be a complacency that obscures our vision and allows us to take the need for an active faith for granted. “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” AMEN
Happy New Year! We begin the season of Advent with assurance from God via the prophet Jeremiah: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah.” In Jeremiah, God speaks into a world where the ruins of the temple are still smouldering, and the “House of David” seems to be buried beneath it, with the assurance that a shoot will emerge from the seemingly lifeless stump - a righteous branch of David. All evidence to the contrary aside, God fulfills God’s promises. This branch will bring righteousness. That doesn’t mean that people will suddenly begin to behave better, but that a right relationship with God will be restored. As a result, “Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.” This righteousness is part of the process of redemption. We often look at redemption on an individual level, as in, “Jesus died for my sins.” While there is truth there, it misses the big picture. Redemption involves the restoration of the relationship that Adam and Eve had with God -- a relationship in which all of creation is in harmony with God. The humble goal of living in safety is a statement of that harmony. All of the things that have happened to creation will be gone. In short, there will be nothing to worry about.
We heard about worry in Wednesday’s reading as we considered the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. Today’s Gospel reading starts off with a list of signs that will cause people to “faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world. The powers of heaven will be shaken.” This passage reminds us that while the powers of heaven and the powers of earth are separate, they are connected. This kind of both-and, or paradox, is not at all uncommon in the story of our faith. The infant Jesus is both a baby born in a manger, and a Savior who is Christ the Lord. Jesus teaches us that, in order to keep our lives, we need to lose them. He tells the disciples that he has not come to bring peace, but division, yet when he returns, he declares “peace be with you.” Finally, the crucifixion of Jesus, who was both fully God and fully human, led to both death and new life. For humanity, who are both saints and sinners, there is always more going on than meets the eye. As Susay Garret puts it, “the battle between good and evil plays out both on earth and in heaven.”
The first section of our gospel concludes, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Notice that it is not “the end” that is drawing near, but redemption. In Mark’s version, which we looked at a few weeks ago, the disciples asked how to read the signs. Jesus makes that unnecessary here. The “Son of Man coming in a cloud” will be as obvious as the budding trees that indicate spring. Although some may be quicker to notice than others, it seems unlikely that anyone would completely miss spring and summer unless…
The signs are all around us: distress among the nations, confusion, people distancing themselves from God -- just look around! As your awareness of the signs grows, look within yourself. We can’t even keep our own houses in order, much less the Kingdom of God, so we’d better look out! But that’s useless too, because heaven and earth will pass away no matter what we do. All that is left is to look up, to lift up our heads, and that is repentance. According to Buechner: “To repent is to come to your senses. It is not so much something you do as something that happens. True repentance spends less time looking at the past and saying, “I’m sorry,” than to the future and saying, “Wow!” Most definitions of repentance involve changing our ways because we are sorry, but if we stay there, our focus is on what is behind us -- worry.
The reading ends, “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.” We are to be on our guard not against the destruction of the world as we know it and the return of Christ; that is going to happen whether we are ready or not, but against the things that keep us looking in the wrong direction, “dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.” For those of us who consider ourselves “saved,” the greatest obstacle might be a complacency that obscures our vision and allows us to take the need for an active faith for granted. “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” AMEN
Christ the King: November 21, 2021
Today, we are poised on the cup of another church year. After a few Sundays of back-and-forth between green, white and red paraments, it is time to move into a new liturgical year. For most of us, the concept of Advent is difficult enough to grasp, so what is the deal with Christ the King Sunday? Well, back in 1925 (which isn’t very long ago in church time), the Catholic Church was still struggling to resolve “The Roman Question.” While I’m sure that most of you already know what that was, please humor me by allowing me to explain: At one time, Rome was a territory under Papal rule (Papal means having to do with the Pope). Sometime in the late 1800’s, Italy was reunified, and the dispute over who was in charge of Rome, the Italian government or the church, began. Pope Pius XI believed that growing secularism (the lack of religious influence within society) and nationalism (putting the importance of the culture and interests of a particular country ahead of those of other nations to the extent that even things that should transcend national boundaries and interests are ignored). To put that into simpler language, the Pope was afraid that people weren’t paying much attention to the church, and that they were so locked into protecting their own country that they wouldn’t work with other countries, even if it was in their best interest. In that climate, he knew that he would need to work fast if Papal rule of Rome was ever going to be restored, so he instituted the celebration of Christ the King Sunday. I’m not sure if this was why, but “theRoman Question” was resolved in 1929 with the establishment of Papal authority over Vatican City.
At this point, you may be asking yourself whether this is a history paper or a sermon. Since you are already there, let me share a bit of the history of Jerusalem. For most of its history, Jerusalem has been under a “domination system” of government in which a few exploit the masses, using religion to provide legitimacy. The temple is the central economic and political institution in the country. This puts the Chief Priests and other religious officials at the center of local collaboration with Rome. They were already the wealthy class, but now they owed the emperor both loyalty and money. It was a delicate balancing act. They needed to collaborate enough with Rome to keep Rome happy, but not so much as to anger their Jewish subjects. The fact that the temple was both a political and a religious institution was essential to their power because it confused the question about what belonged to God and what belonged to Caesar. When Jesus offered an alternative route to forgiveness, the legitimacy of the temple system was jeopardized. Rome was willing to allow a certain level of religious freedom, especially since all of the pilgrims coming to Jerusalem for Passover and other festivals brought in money, but they wouldn’t hesitate to shut it all down if there was so much as a threat of rebellion on the part of the Jews.
We are almost there, but we should look at what John does and doesn’t include leading up to the trial of Jesus before Pilate. You probably remember that it is in John that Jesus washes the disciples’ feet at the last supper, then proceeds to spend a couple of chapters on his “farewell discourse.” What you may have forgotten is that he doesn’t go out the back door to the garden, and he never asks to have the cup taken away. Instead, he and the disciples cross the valley, where they are met by Judas and a detachment of soldiers and police from the chief priests and the Pharisees.
After Peter cuts the slave’s ear off, Jesus tells him, “Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” After Jesus is brought before Annas, father-in-law of Caiphas, Peter’s three betrayals are interwoven with scenes from the questioning of Jesus. Jesus is then brought to Pilate. When Pilate asks them the charges, they reply, ““If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over.” When Pilate tells them that this really isn’t his problem, they tell him that they don’t have the authority to put a man to death.
And that is where my sermon begins. It is a sermon built almost entirely on speculation, which is why I front loaded it with so much historical information. The religious authorities may have had the power to put Jesus to death by stoning, but there was no way they could take that risk. Once the people took up stones to kill Jesus, who could predict what would happen next? It was much safer to put the responsibility elsewhere, and it is likely that the religious officials had it within their power to make trouble for Pilate with the Roman government. I can almost picture winks being exchanged along with Jesus.
Then we have the conversation between Jesus and Pilate. We are given no clues as to who is sitting or standing, how near they are to one another, facial expression, tone of voice, or gestures, yet this conversation is meant to remind us that Jesus, not self-interest or our country, is the truth. As you read it, ask yourself these questions: Do we live in the reign of God following the servant king? Do we live lives that reflect that service? Do we reach out to the least and the lost? Do we seek to serve rather than be served? Do we testify to the truth of God? It is the truth that Jesus came to the world to bring love and forgiveness. Are we citizens of that kingdom? Except for the last two, I would guess that many of us will answer “no.” What are we to do about that? AMEN
Today, we are poised on the cup of another church year. After a few Sundays of back-and-forth between green, white and red paraments, it is time to move into a new liturgical year. For most of us, the concept of Advent is difficult enough to grasp, so what is the deal with Christ the King Sunday? Well, back in 1925 (which isn’t very long ago in church time), the Catholic Church was still struggling to resolve “The Roman Question.” While I’m sure that most of you already know what that was, please humor me by allowing me to explain: At one time, Rome was a territory under Papal rule (Papal means having to do with the Pope). Sometime in the late 1800’s, Italy was reunified, and the dispute over who was in charge of Rome, the Italian government or the church, began. Pope Pius XI believed that growing secularism (the lack of religious influence within society) and nationalism (putting the importance of the culture and interests of a particular country ahead of those of other nations to the extent that even things that should transcend national boundaries and interests are ignored). To put that into simpler language, the Pope was afraid that people weren’t paying much attention to the church, and that they were so locked into protecting their own country that they wouldn’t work with other countries, even if it was in their best interest. In that climate, he knew that he would need to work fast if Papal rule of Rome was ever going to be restored, so he instituted the celebration of Christ the King Sunday. I’m not sure if this was why, but “theRoman Question” was resolved in 1929 with the establishment of Papal authority over Vatican City.
At this point, you may be asking yourself whether this is a history paper or a sermon. Since you are already there, let me share a bit of the history of Jerusalem. For most of its history, Jerusalem has been under a “domination system” of government in which a few exploit the masses, using religion to provide legitimacy. The temple is the central economic and political institution in the country. This puts the Chief Priests and other religious officials at the center of local collaboration with Rome. They were already the wealthy class, but now they owed the emperor both loyalty and money. It was a delicate balancing act. They needed to collaborate enough with Rome to keep Rome happy, but not so much as to anger their Jewish subjects. The fact that the temple was both a political and a religious institution was essential to their power because it confused the question about what belonged to God and what belonged to Caesar. When Jesus offered an alternative route to forgiveness, the legitimacy of the temple system was jeopardized. Rome was willing to allow a certain level of religious freedom, especially since all of the pilgrims coming to Jerusalem for Passover and other festivals brought in money, but they wouldn’t hesitate to shut it all down if there was so much as a threat of rebellion on the part of the Jews.
We are almost there, but we should look at what John does and doesn’t include leading up to the trial of Jesus before Pilate. You probably remember that it is in John that Jesus washes the disciples’ feet at the last supper, then proceeds to spend a couple of chapters on his “farewell discourse.” What you may have forgotten is that he doesn’t go out the back door to the garden, and he never asks to have the cup taken away. Instead, he and the disciples cross the valley, where they are met by Judas and a detachment of soldiers and police from the chief priests and the Pharisees.
After Peter cuts the slave’s ear off, Jesus tells him, “Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” After Jesus is brought before Annas, father-in-law of Caiphas, Peter’s three betrayals are interwoven with scenes from the questioning of Jesus. Jesus is then brought to Pilate. When Pilate asks them the charges, they reply, ““If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over.” When Pilate tells them that this really isn’t his problem, they tell him that they don’t have the authority to put a man to death.
And that is where my sermon begins. It is a sermon built almost entirely on speculation, which is why I front loaded it with so much historical information. The religious authorities may have had the power to put Jesus to death by stoning, but there was no way they could take that risk. Once the people took up stones to kill Jesus, who could predict what would happen next? It was much safer to put the responsibility elsewhere, and it is likely that the religious officials had it within their power to make trouble for Pilate with the Roman government. I can almost picture winks being exchanged along with Jesus.
Then we have the conversation between Jesus and Pilate. We are given no clues as to who is sitting or standing, how near they are to one another, facial expression, tone of voice, or gestures, yet this conversation is meant to remind us that Jesus, not self-interest or our country, is the truth. As you read it, ask yourself these questions: Do we live in the reign of God following the servant king? Do we live lives that reflect that service? Do we reach out to the least and the lost? Do we seek to serve rather than be served? Do we testify to the truth of God? It is the truth that Jesus came to the world to bring love and forgiveness. Are we citizens of that kingdom? Except for the last two, I would guess that many of us will answer “no.” What are we to do about that? AMEN
Pentecost 25: November 14, 2021
Jesus does a surprising amount of sitting as we near the end of Mark. Immediately before today’s gospel reading, Jesus and the disciples “sit opposite the temple treasury and watch the crowd putting money into the treasury.” Jesus compares the rich putting in large but carefully budgeted sums to a widow who puts in her last coin. Jesus has also warned the disciples not to be impressed by those who strut around in flowing robes and who pray for the sake of attention. The minute that they leave the temple, the disciples show that Jesus’ teaching has not sunk in as they ooh and ah about the impressive appearance of the temple.
Jesus crosses the valley and sits opposite the temple, where he is addressed privately by the first four disciples: Peter, James, John and Andrew. As he did in the temple, Jesus physically changes the perspective of the disciples before he attempts to teach them how to see things from a different perspective. They are likely sitting in an ancient burial ground as they look at the temple from a distance. The four disciples have a logical question: when will these things happen and how will we know that they are about to happen? Jesus’ answer shows that even the four disciples who have been with him throughout his ministry need to “beware that no one leads them astray”. The idea that those who spent three years living and working with Jesus might be misled by someone claiming to come in Jesus’ name, declaring “I am He!” should make us aware just how skilled these imposters will be.
Perhaps it won’t be the gifts of the imposters that end up leading people astray. Jesus warns the disciples that while they are to beware, they are not to become alarmed when they hear of wars and rumors of war -- not even when nations rise against nations, kingdoms against kingdoms, when there are earthquakes and famines. Perhaps this is a reminder that all of those things have been going on since the beginning of history, so they aren’t very useful as signs.
Jesus never really answers the disciple’s question of when the end is coming. Nor does he scold them for asking, even though they are likely wondering how long they have before they will be held accountable and how much advance notice they will be given. The implied answer to when they should evaluate their relationship to God is “now.” This passage also gives us a reminder that God is working toward something -- that the earthly cycles of war and peace, plenty and famine, good weather and fair are all taking place within the larger, kingdom narrative. God has always been, and we are connected through creation, “in the beginning.” Our faith is built on a series of covenants between God and man, and we dwell within the communion of saints. Even as the generations have continued to pass, each one moves us slowly closer to God -- nearer to the time not only of judgment, but of the restoration of creation to its intended form.
The destruction of the temple is bad news, but only for those who use it and their positions within it to promote injustice, for those who hide from their sinfulness by dressing up, praying loudly, and making sure that others take note of not only their presence in worship, but also their generous giving. If the disciples have trouble grasping this, a glance around the graveyard should serve to remind them that all people and all institutions eventually return to dust. In this sense, Mark 13 isn’t really an apocalypse at all because it turns the focus from destruction to hope -- from endings to new beginnings. We are called to be vigilant, not for signs that the end is coming, but for opportunities to witness to the Gospel. AMEN
Jesus does a surprising amount of sitting as we near the end of Mark. Immediately before today’s gospel reading, Jesus and the disciples “sit opposite the temple treasury and watch the crowd putting money into the treasury.” Jesus compares the rich putting in large but carefully budgeted sums to a widow who puts in her last coin. Jesus has also warned the disciples not to be impressed by those who strut around in flowing robes and who pray for the sake of attention. The minute that they leave the temple, the disciples show that Jesus’ teaching has not sunk in as they ooh and ah about the impressive appearance of the temple.
Jesus crosses the valley and sits opposite the temple, where he is addressed privately by the first four disciples: Peter, James, John and Andrew. As he did in the temple, Jesus physically changes the perspective of the disciples before he attempts to teach them how to see things from a different perspective. They are likely sitting in an ancient burial ground as they look at the temple from a distance. The four disciples have a logical question: when will these things happen and how will we know that they are about to happen? Jesus’ answer shows that even the four disciples who have been with him throughout his ministry need to “beware that no one leads them astray”. The idea that those who spent three years living and working with Jesus might be misled by someone claiming to come in Jesus’ name, declaring “I am He!” should make us aware just how skilled these imposters will be.
Perhaps it won’t be the gifts of the imposters that end up leading people astray. Jesus warns the disciples that while they are to beware, they are not to become alarmed when they hear of wars and rumors of war -- not even when nations rise against nations, kingdoms against kingdoms, when there are earthquakes and famines. Perhaps this is a reminder that all of those things have been going on since the beginning of history, so they aren’t very useful as signs.
Jesus never really answers the disciple’s question of when the end is coming. Nor does he scold them for asking, even though they are likely wondering how long they have before they will be held accountable and how much advance notice they will be given. The implied answer to when they should evaluate their relationship to God is “now.” This passage also gives us a reminder that God is working toward something -- that the earthly cycles of war and peace, plenty and famine, good weather and fair are all taking place within the larger, kingdom narrative. God has always been, and we are connected through creation, “in the beginning.” Our faith is built on a series of covenants between God and man, and we dwell within the communion of saints. Even as the generations have continued to pass, each one moves us slowly closer to God -- nearer to the time not only of judgment, but of the restoration of creation to its intended form.
The destruction of the temple is bad news, but only for those who use it and their positions within it to promote injustice, for those who hide from their sinfulness by dressing up, praying loudly, and making sure that others take note of not only their presence in worship, but also their generous giving. If the disciples have trouble grasping this, a glance around the graveyard should serve to remind them that all people and all institutions eventually return to dust. In this sense, Mark 13 isn’t really an apocalypse at all because it turns the focus from destruction to hope -- from endings to new beginnings. We are called to be vigilant, not for signs that the end is coming, but for opportunities to witness to the Gospel. AMEN
All Saints Sunday: November 7, 2021
From the story of the Wedding at Cana to the Resurrection of Lazarus (both of which appear only in John), John’s gospel is built on a series of signs which are shared so that we who read it “may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing (we) may have life in his name.” In addition to being the final sign, the resurrection of Lazarus is also the event that sets into motion the crucifixion. Putting together details from all of the gospels makes it clear that Mary, Martha, and Lazarus are special people in Jesus’ life and that their home was a place where he could find rest and peace. He will eat with them again in the week before his death, and Mary will anoint him. When Lazarus falls ill, it is no surprise that his sisters send a message to Jesus. Jesus’ reaction, however, is surprising. He says that the illness is “for God’s glory, so that the son of God may be glorified through it,” and he waits two days before he leaves for Bethany. Even more surprisingly, he tells the disciples, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.” When Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been dead for four days, which means that Mary, Martha and the mourners would have been about halfway through the first part of the funeral. There would have been a procession to the tomb immediately after Lazarus died, after which the mourners would have spent seven days at the home, weeping, wailing, screaming and crying.
Immediately prior to today’s reading, Martha went out to meet Jesus. It is not hard to imagine how Mary and Martha must have felt when the anticipation of Jesus’ arrival gave way to wondering why he wasn’t there yet. It is likely that concern gave way to frustration and even anger as they watched their brother die, put him in the tomb, and began the mourning process without Jesus. When he finally arrives, Jesus is first met by Martha. Her greeting, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” is tempered by a brief conversation about resurrection and a confession.
When Mary arrives, she is accompanied by the emptiness and despair that death brings to those left behind. Weeping takes the place of words as she throws herself at Jesus’ feet. At this point, we learn that Jesus is “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” It is difficult to translate whether this means that Jesus is indignant and troubled, agitated, or something else. More importantly, we don’t know the feelings beneath his response. While there is much speculation about what disturbed Jesus and caused him to weep, I believe that leaving it unexplained makes the most sense. We all know that no attempt at explaining the stages of grief or the process of grief can come close to capturing the powerful mix of emotions and responses that grieving brings.
The text places us in the crowd as Jesus moves, weeping, toward the tomb. We can hear the voices around us -- some commending Jesus because his tears show how much he loved Lazarus while others condemn him because, if he really loved Jesus he would have saved him. This is the third time that the problem of Jesus' absence has been raised. While Martha may have made progress toward understanding, Mary and the crowd have not. As they reach the tomb, Jesus is moved so powerfully that he groans. When he asks that the stone be removed, Martha protests that there will be a stench. Again, we don’t know what motivates her reluctance, and that is just fine. It can certainly be difficult for us to reconcile the idea that Jesus may have delayed his arrival precisely because the stench of death in the noses of the witnesses will remove all doubt from the witnesses that Lazarus is indeed dead with our picture of Jesus as all gentleness and light.
While Jesus has not addressed the group, he makes it clear that he is talking to God for their benefit. When he shouts, “Lazarus, come out!” there is no doubt that it is Jesus’ voice speaking God’s command that brings Lazarus back to life. We notice that Jesus involves the community by having them remove the stone and unbind Lazarus. It is interesting to wonder how Lazarus made his way to the cave entrance with his hands, feet and face all wrapped in cloth, but the details of how Lazarus responded to returning to life, how he looked, or how the onlookers immediately responded would only obscure the point.
Instead of resolving the differences of opinion about Jesus, the resurrection of Lazarus results in the division becoming fatal. While some believed, others went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. The chapter ends with Jesus in hiding as those who want him dead searching for him and those who have already arrived in Jerusalem to prepare for the passover wondering whether or not Jesus would show up.
Instead of offering certainty, John’s gospel leaves room for those who struggle with questions like, “If Jesus loves his friends so much, why is he not there to shield them from suffering and death? Where is Jesus when we need him now? Why does God let terrible things happen to good people, indeed to those he promised, “Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die”? AMEN
From the story of the Wedding at Cana to the Resurrection of Lazarus (both of which appear only in John), John’s gospel is built on a series of signs which are shared so that we who read it “may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing (we) may have life in his name.” In addition to being the final sign, the resurrection of Lazarus is also the event that sets into motion the crucifixion. Putting together details from all of the gospels makes it clear that Mary, Martha, and Lazarus are special people in Jesus’ life and that their home was a place where he could find rest and peace. He will eat with them again in the week before his death, and Mary will anoint him. When Lazarus falls ill, it is no surprise that his sisters send a message to Jesus. Jesus’ reaction, however, is surprising. He says that the illness is “for God’s glory, so that the son of God may be glorified through it,” and he waits two days before he leaves for Bethany. Even more surprisingly, he tells the disciples, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.” When Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been dead for four days, which means that Mary, Martha and the mourners would have been about halfway through the first part of the funeral. There would have been a procession to the tomb immediately after Lazarus died, after which the mourners would have spent seven days at the home, weeping, wailing, screaming and crying.
Immediately prior to today’s reading, Martha went out to meet Jesus. It is not hard to imagine how Mary and Martha must have felt when the anticipation of Jesus’ arrival gave way to wondering why he wasn’t there yet. It is likely that concern gave way to frustration and even anger as they watched their brother die, put him in the tomb, and began the mourning process without Jesus. When he finally arrives, Jesus is first met by Martha. Her greeting, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” is tempered by a brief conversation about resurrection and a confession.
When Mary arrives, she is accompanied by the emptiness and despair that death brings to those left behind. Weeping takes the place of words as she throws herself at Jesus’ feet. At this point, we learn that Jesus is “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” It is difficult to translate whether this means that Jesus is indignant and troubled, agitated, or something else. More importantly, we don’t know the feelings beneath his response. While there is much speculation about what disturbed Jesus and caused him to weep, I believe that leaving it unexplained makes the most sense. We all know that no attempt at explaining the stages of grief or the process of grief can come close to capturing the powerful mix of emotions and responses that grieving brings.
The text places us in the crowd as Jesus moves, weeping, toward the tomb. We can hear the voices around us -- some commending Jesus because his tears show how much he loved Lazarus while others condemn him because, if he really loved Jesus he would have saved him. This is the third time that the problem of Jesus' absence has been raised. While Martha may have made progress toward understanding, Mary and the crowd have not. As they reach the tomb, Jesus is moved so powerfully that he groans. When he asks that the stone be removed, Martha protests that there will be a stench. Again, we don’t know what motivates her reluctance, and that is just fine. It can certainly be difficult for us to reconcile the idea that Jesus may have delayed his arrival precisely because the stench of death in the noses of the witnesses will remove all doubt from the witnesses that Lazarus is indeed dead with our picture of Jesus as all gentleness and light.
While Jesus has not addressed the group, he makes it clear that he is talking to God for their benefit. When he shouts, “Lazarus, come out!” there is no doubt that it is Jesus’ voice speaking God’s command that brings Lazarus back to life. We notice that Jesus involves the community by having them remove the stone and unbind Lazarus. It is interesting to wonder how Lazarus made his way to the cave entrance with his hands, feet and face all wrapped in cloth, but the details of how Lazarus responded to returning to life, how he looked, or how the onlookers immediately responded would only obscure the point.
Instead of resolving the differences of opinion about Jesus, the resurrection of Lazarus results in the division becoming fatal. While some believed, others went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. The chapter ends with Jesus in hiding as those who want him dead searching for him and those who have already arrived in Jerusalem to prepare for the passover wondering whether or not Jesus would show up.
Instead of offering certainty, John’s gospel leaves room for those who struggle with questions like, “If Jesus loves his friends so much, why is he not there to shield them from suffering and death? Where is Jesus when we need him now? Why does God let terrible things happen to good people, indeed to those he promised, “Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die”? AMEN
Reformation Sunday: October 31, 2021
About 200 years before the Lord told Jeremiah, “this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people,” (Jeremiah 31:33, NRSV) Amos wrote, “The time is surely coming, says the Lord God, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord. They shall wander from sea to sea, and from north to east; they shall run to and fro, seeking the word of the Lord, but they shall not find it.” (Amos 8:11-12) Although these passages might seem to depict two very different kinds of God, they are typical of the pattern of renewal and reformation that occurred throughout scripture. Protestants, especially Lutherans, would certainly depict the Reformation as another example of this pattern; having identified that the church had become disconnected from the word, Luther’s rediscovery of the gracious God depicted in Romans 3 reawakened the church.
As we observe examples of reformation from 3,000 and 300 years ago, it seems clear that the pattern has continued. It would be difficult to prove that Luther’s actions resulted in the completion of the covenant described in Jeremiah: “No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord.” In fact, it would be a much easier task to find evidence that we are living in a “famine of the word.” In our gospel reading, Jesus is facing the same issue. One of the biggest obstacles to the disciples and the rest of Jesus’ contemporaries in understanding that he is the fulfillment of the prophecies is that they don’t understand the prophecies -- or they have interpreted them so rigidly that they are trying to make Jesus fit their understanding instead of reexamining their beliefs in the light of Jesus’ life and ministry.
So, as we observe the Reformation today, let me recap what we know: God keeps God’s promises, Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and we have, as Robert Frost said, “miles to go before we sleep.” Jesus implies that his “believing” listeners are neither as free nor as faithful as they imagine. That makes a lot of sense if you think about all of the things that each of us have believed in the course of our lives, and, especially, the disconnect that so often exists between our beliefs and our actions. If you have ever used the line, “Do as I say, not as I do,” you have a clear example, but it goes deeper than that. It is not difficult to identify with the Apostle Paul when he says, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)
The believers addressed in the gospel reading are quick to deny that they are or have ever been slaves. Although we regularly confess that we “are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves,” how much time do we spend examining ourselves for sinful behavior? Do we have habits that we are not able to completely break? Is there something that gives us so much pleasure that we simply can’t do without it? Does our need to indulge ourselves become a necessity? If we made a list of everything that we “need,” how many of those things are actually optional? According to Barclay, when people are confronted with their sinfulness, they are likely to reply, “I will do what I like. Surely I can do what I will with my own life.” However, “far from doing what he likes, the sinner has lost the power to do what he likes. He is a slave to the habits, the self-indulgences, the wrong pleasures which have mastered him.” If we can acknowledge that we are sinners in need of grace, we are ready to understand that “belief” is not a matter of professing our faith or of declaring ourselves to have reached some arbitrary level of understanding; we are ready to continue in Christ’s word.
This brings us back to the end of the reading from Jeremiah: “for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” We come to know God when we embrace our need for forgiveness and stop fighting to be completely free of sin, to hide our sinfulness, or to do enough good deeds to balance things out. Then we are ready to continue in the word (or, since we are in John, to abide in it). In the farewell discourse, Jesus says, “
By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:35) This “love” is belief made visible. Our love of God, our faith, doesn’t involve learning facts or understanding and agreeing with doctrines. It is not about being able to understand and articulate a particular theology. It is about developing a relationship with Christ, with learning to move from, “It’s my life, and I’ll do what I want,” to “My life belongs to God, so I can do what God wants.” AMEN
About 200 years before the Lord told Jeremiah, “this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people,” (Jeremiah 31:33, NRSV) Amos wrote, “The time is surely coming, says the Lord God, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord. They shall wander from sea to sea, and from north to east; they shall run to and fro, seeking the word of the Lord, but they shall not find it.” (Amos 8:11-12) Although these passages might seem to depict two very different kinds of God, they are typical of the pattern of renewal and reformation that occurred throughout scripture. Protestants, especially Lutherans, would certainly depict the Reformation as another example of this pattern; having identified that the church had become disconnected from the word, Luther’s rediscovery of the gracious God depicted in Romans 3 reawakened the church.
As we observe examples of reformation from 3,000 and 300 years ago, it seems clear that the pattern has continued. It would be difficult to prove that Luther’s actions resulted in the completion of the covenant described in Jeremiah: “No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord.” In fact, it would be a much easier task to find evidence that we are living in a “famine of the word.” In our gospel reading, Jesus is facing the same issue. One of the biggest obstacles to the disciples and the rest of Jesus’ contemporaries in understanding that he is the fulfillment of the prophecies is that they don’t understand the prophecies -- or they have interpreted them so rigidly that they are trying to make Jesus fit their understanding instead of reexamining their beliefs in the light of Jesus’ life and ministry.
So, as we observe the Reformation today, let me recap what we know: God keeps God’s promises, Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and we have, as Robert Frost said, “miles to go before we sleep.” Jesus implies that his “believing” listeners are neither as free nor as faithful as they imagine. That makes a lot of sense if you think about all of the things that each of us have believed in the course of our lives, and, especially, the disconnect that so often exists between our beliefs and our actions. If you have ever used the line, “Do as I say, not as I do,” you have a clear example, but it goes deeper than that. It is not difficult to identify with the Apostle Paul when he says, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)
The believers addressed in the gospel reading are quick to deny that they are or have ever been slaves. Although we regularly confess that we “are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves,” how much time do we spend examining ourselves for sinful behavior? Do we have habits that we are not able to completely break? Is there something that gives us so much pleasure that we simply can’t do without it? Does our need to indulge ourselves become a necessity? If we made a list of everything that we “need,” how many of those things are actually optional? According to Barclay, when people are confronted with their sinfulness, they are likely to reply, “I will do what I like. Surely I can do what I will with my own life.” However, “far from doing what he likes, the sinner has lost the power to do what he likes. He is a slave to the habits, the self-indulgences, the wrong pleasures which have mastered him.” If we can acknowledge that we are sinners in need of grace, we are ready to understand that “belief” is not a matter of professing our faith or of declaring ourselves to have reached some arbitrary level of understanding; we are ready to continue in Christ’s word.
This brings us back to the end of the reading from Jeremiah: “for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” We come to know God when we embrace our need for forgiveness and stop fighting to be completely free of sin, to hide our sinfulness, or to do enough good deeds to balance things out. Then we are ready to continue in the word (or, since we are in John, to abide in it). In the farewell discourse, Jesus says, “
By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:35) This “love” is belief made visible. Our love of God, our faith, doesn’t involve learning facts or understanding and agreeing with doctrines. It is not about being able to understand and articulate a particular theology. It is about developing a relationship with Christ, with learning to move from, “It’s my life, and I’ll do what I want,” to “My life belongs to God, so I can do what God wants.” AMEN
Pentecost 22: October 24, 2021
Today’s gospel reading is clearly the end of the “middle section”of Mark -- chapter eleven is “the triumphal entry,” the beginning of the end. It seems to me that Mark builds this section around two incidents that occur consecutively in Mark 8 immediately after the feeding of the 4,000. First, the Pharisees test Jesus by asking him for a sign from heaven (apparently feeding 9,000 people with twelve loaves and two fish wasn’t enough). Next, the disciples forget to bring any bread with them in the boat, and finding themselves down to their last loaf, they begin to worry about where their next meal will come from. When he overhears them, Jesus says, “Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear?” Everything in between, including the Transfiguration and especially our stories from the last three Sundays, serves to illustrate what it means to “see” and “hear” in a way that goes beyond the senses and into the heart. Because of Mark’s brisk pace and sparse details, it is essential that we look at the texts together and not as the lectionary presents them.
When the rich man interrupts Jesus' journey, he says, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Before answering, Jesus points out that the man needs to think more about what it means for Jesus (or anyone or anything) to be “good”. When James and John approach Jesus, they begin with what seems almost like a command: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” In today’s gospel, Bartimaeus cries repeatedly, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Even though “Son of David” reflects an incomplete understanding of who Jesus is, Jesus does not correct him. Instead, he does something almost unprecedented in Mark’s gospel -- he stands still!
Since the rich man has led with his question, Jesus is able to answer, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” The rich man is not yet ready to let go of the earthly, so he leaves in despair. We have no further news of the rich man, which might lead us to assume that he never took Jesus up on his offer of discipleship. I would like to believe that further reflection and more life experience eventually led him into the Kingdom. The disciples and Bartimaeus are asked the same question by Jesus: “What is it you want me to do for you?” James and John are told that they do not know what it is that they are asking -- to sit at the right and left hand of Jesus in His glory -- they don’t understand the suffering and alienation involved in living the life that Jesus has lived. Jesus tells them that it is not his to grant them what they have requested, but that they will drink of the cup that He drinks and be baptized with the baptism with which He is baptized.
Without the next story -- today’s gospel reading -- it would seem that there is no hope. If a man who had followed the commandments from his youth had the same chances of reaching the Kingdom of God as a camel had of passing through the eye of a needle, if disciples who had been on the mountain with Jesus and witnessed the transfiguration were not assured of a place, who then, to quote the disciples, could be saved? We find the answer in what seems at first to be the unlikeliest of people: Bartimeaus, the blind beggar, who is sitting by the roadside near Jericho. The roads must have been choked with people on their way to Jerusalem for the passover; there was a large crowd traveling with Jesus, and there were surely people who had heard of Jesus, both friends and foes, who had come just to get a glimpse of Him -- to see what the fuss was all about. There was almost no chance that Jesus would notice Bartimaeus in this crowd.
I imagine that the news that Jesus was passing by spread ahead of his group like a murmured ripple as He was recognized. When he heard it, Bartimeaus began to yell. When those between him and Jesus tried to quiet him down, he began to yell louder. He knew that this was his only hope, and he was not going to let it pass by. I imagine that a hush fell over the crowd when Jesus stopped, only to turn back into an excited babble as the word was passed on -- “He has stopped and asked that the blind beggar be brought to him!” Bartimeaus lept to his feet and threw off his cloak. If he had collected anything that day, it must have flown into the air. Although he may have been assisted on his way to Jesus, I believe that the crowd parted to make way for Bartimaeus as he responded to Jesus’ voice. There must have been some puzzled looks when Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” After all, the man was blind. What could he possibly want but sight? Of course, here we have the double meaning of sight. It is like saying “I see what you mean” when you understand an explanation -- it is why a lightbulb indicates understanding in cartoons.
Bartimaeus is not a pitiful figure along the road. In spite of his blindness, he has seen the truth that Jesus has not been able to convey to anyone else at this point in Mark. He has asked for mercy, acknowledging that nothing is owed to him. He has cast aside his cloak -- likely his only possession. He has loudly and persistently called out to Jesus. His faith has made him well, not because he has earned healing through obedience, but because he has come to Jesus with open arms and empty hands. AMEN
Today’s gospel reading is clearly the end of the “middle section”of Mark -- chapter eleven is “the triumphal entry,” the beginning of the end. It seems to me that Mark builds this section around two incidents that occur consecutively in Mark 8 immediately after the feeding of the 4,000. First, the Pharisees test Jesus by asking him for a sign from heaven (apparently feeding 9,000 people with twelve loaves and two fish wasn’t enough). Next, the disciples forget to bring any bread with them in the boat, and finding themselves down to their last loaf, they begin to worry about where their next meal will come from. When he overhears them, Jesus says, “Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear?” Everything in between, including the Transfiguration and especially our stories from the last three Sundays, serves to illustrate what it means to “see” and “hear” in a way that goes beyond the senses and into the heart. Because of Mark’s brisk pace and sparse details, it is essential that we look at the texts together and not as the lectionary presents them.
When the rich man interrupts Jesus' journey, he says, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Before answering, Jesus points out that the man needs to think more about what it means for Jesus (or anyone or anything) to be “good”. When James and John approach Jesus, they begin with what seems almost like a command: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” In today’s gospel, Bartimaeus cries repeatedly, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Even though “Son of David” reflects an incomplete understanding of who Jesus is, Jesus does not correct him. Instead, he does something almost unprecedented in Mark’s gospel -- he stands still!
Since the rich man has led with his question, Jesus is able to answer, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” The rich man is not yet ready to let go of the earthly, so he leaves in despair. We have no further news of the rich man, which might lead us to assume that he never took Jesus up on his offer of discipleship. I would like to believe that further reflection and more life experience eventually led him into the Kingdom. The disciples and Bartimaeus are asked the same question by Jesus: “What is it you want me to do for you?” James and John are told that they do not know what it is that they are asking -- to sit at the right and left hand of Jesus in His glory -- they don’t understand the suffering and alienation involved in living the life that Jesus has lived. Jesus tells them that it is not his to grant them what they have requested, but that they will drink of the cup that He drinks and be baptized with the baptism with which He is baptized.
Without the next story -- today’s gospel reading -- it would seem that there is no hope. If a man who had followed the commandments from his youth had the same chances of reaching the Kingdom of God as a camel had of passing through the eye of a needle, if disciples who had been on the mountain with Jesus and witnessed the transfiguration were not assured of a place, who then, to quote the disciples, could be saved? We find the answer in what seems at first to be the unlikeliest of people: Bartimeaus, the blind beggar, who is sitting by the roadside near Jericho. The roads must have been choked with people on their way to Jerusalem for the passover; there was a large crowd traveling with Jesus, and there were surely people who had heard of Jesus, both friends and foes, who had come just to get a glimpse of Him -- to see what the fuss was all about. There was almost no chance that Jesus would notice Bartimaeus in this crowd.
I imagine that the news that Jesus was passing by spread ahead of his group like a murmured ripple as He was recognized. When he heard it, Bartimeaus began to yell. When those between him and Jesus tried to quiet him down, he began to yell louder. He knew that this was his only hope, and he was not going to let it pass by. I imagine that a hush fell over the crowd when Jesus stopped, only to turn back into an excited babble as the word was passed on -- “He has stopped and asked that the blind beggar be brought to him!” Bartimeaus lept to his feet and threw off his cloak. If he had collected anything that day, it must have flown into the air. Although he may have been assisted on his way to Jesus, I believe that the crowd parted to make way for Bartimaeus as he responded to Jesus’ voice. There must have been some puzzled looks when Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” After all, the man was blind. What could he possibly want but sight? Of course, here we have the double meaning of sight. It is like saying “I see what you mean” when you understand an explanation -- it is why a lightbulb indicates understanding in cartoons.
Bartimaeus is not a pitiful figure along the road. In spite of his blindness, he has seen the truth that Jesus has not been able to convey to anyone else at this point in Mark. He has asked for mercy, acknowledging that nothing is owed to him. He has cast aside his cloak -- likely his only possession. He has loudly and persistently called out to Jesus. His faith has made him well, not because he has earned healing through obedience, but because he has come to Jesus with open arms and empty hands. AMEN
Pentecost 21: October 17, 2021
Jesus foretells his death and resurrection three times in the middle of Mark. The first time is embedded in the story of Peter answering the question, “Who do you say that I am?” After Peter correctly answers, “You are the Messiah,” Jesus orders the disciples not to tell anyone about him and then begins to teach them about his upcoming suffering, death, and resurrection. This is the point where Peter tries to talk Jesus into saving himself, earning the rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” The second foretelling occurs after Transfiguration (when Jesus again warns the disciples not to tell of anything that they have seen until after the resurrection) and the casting out of a spirit. Before this prediction, we are told that Jesus did not want anyone to know that they were passing through Galilee, because he was teaching his disciples about His betrayal, death, and resurrection. This attempt at educating the disciples concludes, “But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” Today’s gospel reading follows the third, most graphic, prediction. This prediction follows the conclusion of last week’s gospel: “But many who are first will be last and the last will be first.”
The sons of Zebedee couldn’t have made it more clear that, like Peter, they were still setting their minds on human things. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. As Jesus had been teaching, the group had continued to draw nearer and nearer to Jerusalem. It was clear that Jesus was really planning to willingly go to his death. Doesn’t it make sense that the disciples would try to take care of human things -- little things like survival? Instead of scolding them, Jesus replies, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” We have the benefit of learning more about that cup when Jesus prays at Gethsemane. The baptism part is a bit confusing because Jesus hardly talks about baptism; that is John the Baptist’s thing. My understanding is that Jesus isn’t talking about baptism as a single event, but that the word translated here as baptism is more about the physical act of being submerged in the water than it is about the spiritual aspect of the event.
If we turn our focus from the disciples to Jesus, it is easy to see how apt the image of being submerged is. As the time of his death grows nearer, Jesus is becoming more and more isolated. Although he is surrounded by crowds, he knows that among those who praise him today are those who will mock and spit on him. He knows not only that Judas will betray him, but also that the rest of the disciples will scatter in terror -- that not a single voice will be raised in his defense as he is unfairly convicted, humiliated, and murdered. No, James and John are clearly not ready to drink the cup or to be baptized, but, he tells them, they will do both. As far as sitting on his right and left, that is for those for whom it has been prepared.
And for whom has it been prepared? If we follow Luke’s account, it is the two criminals who were crucified on either side of Jesus. Although one of them did not take advantage of the opportunity, the other joined Jesus in paradise by simply admitting that he had been condemned justly and asking, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” As today’s gospel ends, the disciples continue to bicker among themselves, but there is a spark of hope from Jesus. When he describes how the rulers of the Gentiles behave, he says to the disciples, “but it is not so among you.” This cannot be based on how the disciples have conducted themselves to this point; it must be a glimpse of the fact that a place for the disciples has been prepared as well. AMEN
Jesus foretells his death and resurrection three times in the middle of Mark. The first time is embedded in the story of Peter answering the question, “Who do you say that I am?” After Peter correctly answers, “You are the Messiah,” Jesus orders the disciples not to tell anyone about him and then begins to teach them about his upcoming suffering, death, and resurrection. This is the point where Peter tries to talk Jesus into saving himself, earning the rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” The second foretelling occurs after Transfiguration (when Jesus again warns the disciples not to tell of anything that they have seen until after the resurrection) and the casting out of a spirit. Before this prediction, we are told that Jesus did not want anyone to know that they were passing through Galilee, because he was teaching his disciples about His betrayal, death, and resurrection. This attempt at educating the disciples concludes, “But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” Today’s gospel reading follows the third, most graphic, prediction. This prediction follows the conclusion of last week’s gospel: “But many who are first will be last and the last will be first.”
The sons of Zebedee couldn’t have made it more clear that, like Peter, they were still setting their minds on human things. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. As Jesus had been teaching, the group had continued to draw nearer and nearer to Jerusalem. It was clear that Jesus was really planning to willingly go to his death. Doesn’t it make sense that the disciples would try to take care of human things -- little things like survival? Instead of scolding them, Jesus replies, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” We have the benefit of learning more about that cup when Jesus prays at Gethsemane. The baptism part is a bit confusing because Jesus hardly talks about baptism; that is John the Baptist’s thing. My understanding is that Jesus isn’t talking about baptism as a single event, but that the word translated here as baptism is more about the physical act of being submerged in the water than it is about the spiritual aspect of the event.
If we turn our focus from the disciples to Jesus, it is easy to see how apt the image of being submerged is. As the time of his death grows nearer, Jesus is becoming more and more isolated. Although he is surrounded by crowds, he knows that among those who praise him today are those who will mock and spit on him. He knows not only that Judas will betray him, but also that the rest of the disciples will scatter in terror -- that not a single voice will be raised in his defense as he is unfairly convicted, humiliated, and murdered. No, James and John are clearly not ready to drink the cup or to be baptized, but, he tells them, they will do both. As far as sitting on his right and left, that is for those for whom it has been prepared.
And for whom has it been prepared? If we follow Luke’s account, it is the two criminals who were crucified on either side of Jesus. Although one of them did not take advantage of the opportunity, the other joined Jesus in paradise by simply admitting that he had been condemned justly and asking, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” As today’s gospel ends, the disciples continue to bicker among themselves, but there is a spark of hope from Jesus. When he describes how the rulers of the Gentiles behave, he says to the disciples, “but it is not so among you.” This cannot be based on how the disciples have conducted themselves to this point; it must be a glimpse of the fact that a place for the disciples has been prepared as well. AMEN
Pentecost 20: October 10, 2021
I mentioned a while back that Mark’s Jesus is always on the move. What I neglected to mention is that Jesus’ journey is constantly being interrupted. If it isn’t an exorcism or a healing, it is some pesky religious officials whose criticisms need to be countered or the disciples who have once again misunderstood and are in need of correcting. Today’s gospel reading is an excellent example: The passage begins, “as he was setting out on a journey,” but before he can even take a step, a man sprints into his path, skidding to a stop on his knees, and asking “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” While the man may not have literally been blocking the road, there was never a question that Jesus would give him the respect of providing an answer (although the answer wasn’t immediate, and it clearly wasn’t what the man wanted to hear).
Before we go any deeper, let’s take a minute to move past some of the points of contention that might otherwise hold us up. While we can’t be certain, let’s take the man at his word -- that he is asking a legitimate question, not simply looking to be praised for his goodness, and that he has indeed kept the commandments, at least the ones mentioned. Let’s also agree that, while this is the story of one particular man and his biggest obstacle to entering the kingdom, it is also meant to teach a lesson to the disciples and to us. Finally, we will grant that this man understands that he has been offered an opportunity to follow Jesus, and that he has declined that invitation.
Jesus’ question, “Why do you call me good?” seems loaded, but it doesn’t even get its own sentence in the text. Instead of waiting for an answer, Jesus proceeds to list a few commandments. I tend to agree with those who see the question about goodness as a way for Jesus to caution the man to slow down and think about what he is saying. Does the man really know what it means for someone or something to be good? There is also the use of the word inheritance, which implies a relationship and an attitude of waiting and receiving. While we might say that we deserve an inheritance, we can’t really say that we have earned it; it depends on someone having something worth passing on, a connection between the giver and the receiver, and the giver reaching a point where they no longer need it. To be more blunt, someone generally needs to die before there is an inheritance. If he is asking for an inheritance, the man should expect it to be attached to a relationship.
Perhaps the man believes that this relationship has already been established by his obedience to the commandments. One argument against this is that the commandments given are all from the second tablet -- the shouldn'ts. We keep these commandments by what we don’t do. The man may be “keeping” the commandments, but that doesn’t mean that he is living a life of faith. Jesus doesn’t diminish what the man has done, in fact, he loves the man for it. It may well be that the man’s life up to this point has been necessary preparation for the next step, letting go of what he has to take Jesus’ hand. The man’s grief can be attributed to the fact that he is so close to doing what he wants to do, what he knows that he must do, yet he can’t quite make himself take that next, big step.
Viewed this way, the man’s story is far from hopeless. He has worked to build a foundation for his faith. He has asked the question and received the answer. Although he does not take advantage of the opportunity this time, we know that Jesus will not hold that against him. We also know the half of the inheritance equation that the man did not: he knew that Jesus had something of value, something worth wanting, but he did not know that Jesus would die in order to pass it on. “Who can be saved? For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” AMEN
I mentioned a while back that Mark’s Jesus is always on the move. What I neglected to mention is that Jesus’ journey is constantly being interrupted. If it isn’t an exorcism or a healing, it is some pesky religious officials whose criticisms need to be countered or the disciples who have once again misunderstood and are in need of correcting. Today’s gospel reading is an excellent example: The passage begins, “as he was setting out on a journey,” but before he can even take a step, a man sprints into his path, skidding to a stop on his knees, and asking “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” While the man may not have literally been blocking the road, there was never a question that Jesus would give him the respect of providing an answer (although the answer wasn’t immediate, and it clearly wasn’t what the man wanted to hear).
Before we go any deeper, let’s take a minute to move past some of the points of contention that might otherwise hold us up. While we can’t be certain, let’s take the man at his word -- that he is asking a legitimate question, not simply looking to be praised for his goodness, and that he has indeed kept the commandments, at least the ones mentioned. Let’s also agree that, while this is the story of one particular man and his biggest obstacle to entering the kingdom, it is also meant to teach a lesson to the disciples and to us. Finally, we will grant that this man understands that he has been offered an opportunity to follow Jesus, and that he has declined that invitation.
Jesus’ question, “Why do you call me good?” seems loaded, but it doesn’t even get its own sentence in the text. Instead of waiting for an answer, Jesus proceeds to list a few commandments. I tend to agree with those who see the question about goodness as a way for Jesus to caution the man to slow down and think about what he is saying. Does the man really know what it means for someone or something to be good? There is also the use of the word inheritance, which implies a relationship and an attitude of waiting and receiving. While we might say that we deserve an inheritance, we can’t really say that we have earned it; it depends on someone having something worth passing on, a connection between the giver and the receiver, and the giver reaching a point where they no longer need it. To be more blunt, someone generally needs to die before there is an inheritance. If he is asking for an inheritance, the man should expect it to be attached to a relationship.
Perhaps the man believes that this relationship has already been established by his obedience to the commandments. One argument against this is that the commandments given are all from the second tablet -- the shouldn'ts. We keep these commandments by what we don’t do. The man may be “keeping” the commandments, but that doesn’t mean that he is living a life of faith. Jesus doesn’t diminish what the man has done, in fact, he loves the man for it. It may well be that the man’s life up to this point has been necessary preparation for the next step, letting go of what he has to take Jesus’ hand. The man’s grief can be attributed to the fact that he is so close to doing what he wants to do, what he knows that he must do, yet he can’t quite make himself take that next, big step.
Viewed this way, the man’s story is far from hopeless. He has worked to build a foundation for his faith. He has asked the question and received the answer. Although he does not take advantage of the opportunity this time, we know that Jesus will not hold that against him. We also know the half of the inheritance equation that the man did not: he knew that Jesus had something of value, something worth wanting, but he did not know that Jesus would die in order to pass it on. “Who can be saved? For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” AMEN
October 3, 2021
Matthew and Luke both include “sermons” given by Jesus. Both begin with a version of the Beatitudes, both conclude with the parable about a house built upon a rock, and both are followed immediately by a healing. Luke six begins with the disciples being accused by the Pharisees of breaking the law by picking and eating grain as they walked through the fields on the sabbath. Next, Jesus teaches in the synagogue on another sabbath while the Pharisees watch to see if he will heal a man with a withered hand, which, of course, he does. The Sermon on the Plain in Luke immediately follows the calling of the twelve disciples. Jesus and the disciples come down from the mountain and are met by “a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people who had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.” The sermon is a combination of a response to the accusations of the Pharisees and an example for the disciples of what it meant to do the Lord’s work.
The sermon can be broken into three parts: Love your enemy, don’t judge, and live with integrity. The first two give the what, while the third gives the how. Integrity is something that we don’t talk about nearly enough. One way to describe integrity is that we not only talk the talk, we also walk the walk. The fact that Jesus words and actions always matched, that he taught about loving your enemy and not judging while healing ALL the people who came to him from many nations, might have gotten by the disciples, so Jesus made sure to close the sermon with a call to action that was based on integrity.
First, he said, “No good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit; for each tree is known by its own fruit. Figs are not gathered from thorns, nor are grapes picked from a bramble bush. The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.” (Luke 6:43-46) It is easy to get tripped up by the terms “good” and “bad” for a couple of reasons. First of all, they don’t really apply to trees. Secondly, we are not expert botanists of the human condition, and we have been reminded not to judge. It is easier to think about trees as healthy or unhealthy, or sound and unsound. A healthy tree will produce fruit; not all of that fruit will be perfect, but it will be the right kind. The fruit that is produced is, in fact, one of the primary indicators of the health of the tree. Similarly, what we do and what we produce reveals what is in our hearts.
Before we get too confident about our ability to produce Lutheran fruit since we are rooted in the fertile soil of Saron and Baxter, we need to listen to the story of the two foundations. The transition between the stories, “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I tell you?” should make us sit up and take notice. There is no wise or foolish builder here, and each of us is responsible for building our own house. God’s coming kingdom will be those who hear Jesus’ words and dig, dig, dig to build a life of action upon them. If we are being honest, most of us do not yet have solid foundations, but that’s to be expected. Fortunately, Jesus doesn’t differentiate here about those who act perfectly and those who act imperfectly, but between those who act and those who choose not to act. Living a life of faith is all on-the-job-training supported by God, in whose grace we can all be confident, even though (or because?) God is fully aware of our shortcomings and our deep need to be assured that, in spite of our failure and sin, He loves us.
Jesus has shown us the mission for the future of our churches: come, hear, and act. AMEN
Matthew and Luke both include “sermons” given by Jesus. Both begin with a version of the Beatitudes, both conclude with the parable about a house built upon a rock, and both are followed immediately by a healing. Luke six begins with the disciples being accused by the Pharisees of breaking the law by picking and eating grain as they walked through the fields on the sabbath. Next, Jesus teaches in the synagogue on another sabbath while the Pharisees watch to see if he will heal a man with a withered hand, which, of course, he does. The Sermon on the Plain in Luke immediately follows the calling of the twelve disciples. Jesus and the disciples come down from the mountain and are met by “a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people who had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.” The sermon is a combination of a response to the accusations of the Pharisees and an example for the disciples of what it meant to do the Lord’s work.
The sermon can be broken into three parts: Love your enemy, don’t judge, and live with integrity. The first two give the what, while the third gives the how. Integrity is something that we don’t talk about nearly enough. One way to describe integrity is that we not only talk the talk, we also walk the walk. The fact that Jesus words and actions always matched, that he taught about loving your enemy and not judging while healing ALL the people who came to him from many nations, might have gotten by the disciples, so Jesus made sure to close the sermon with a call to action that was based on integrity.
First, he said, “No good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit; for each tree is known by its own fruit. Figs are not gathered from thorns, nor are grapes picked from a bramble bush. The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.” (Luke 6:43-46) It is easy to get tripped up by the terms “good” and “bad” for a couple of reasons. First of all, they don’t really apply to trees. Secondly, we are not expert botanists of the human condition, and we have been reminded not to judge. It is easier to think about trees as healthy or unhealthy, or sound and unsound. A healthy tree will produce fruit; not all of that fruit will be perfect, but it will be the right kind. The fruit that is produced is, in fact, one of the primary indicators of the health of the tree. Similarly, what we do and what we produce reveals what is in our hearts.
Before we get too confident about our ability to produce Lutheran fruit since we are rooted in the fertile soil of Saron and Baxter, we need to listen to the story of the two foundations. The transition between the stories, “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I tell you?” should make us sit up and take notice. There is no wise or foolish builder here, and each of us is responsible for building our own house. God’s coming kingdom will be those who hear Jesus’ words and dig, dig, dig to build a life of action upon them. If we are being honest, most of us do not yet have solid foundations, but that’s to be expected. Fortunately, Jesus doesn’t differentiate here about those who act perfectly and those who act imperfectly, but between those who act and those who choose not to act. Living a life of faith is all on-the-job-training supported by God, in whose grace we can all be confident, even though (or because?) God is fully aware of our shortcomings and our deep need to be assured that, in spite of our failure and sin, He loves us.
Jesus has shown us the mission for the future of our churches: come, hear, and act. AMEN
Pentecost 18: September 26, 2021
Sometimes a word just jumps out at me from a text. In the reading from Numbers, that word is “rabble,” as in, “The rabble among them had a strong craving.” This single word shows that it is not the fault of the Israelites that they are ungrateful to the point of whiny rebellion; it is the outsiders who have tagged along with them who reminded them how much tastier meat was than manna. In the gospel, the word is “us.” This humble little pronoun appears with its cousin “we” in the first verse when John says, “we tried to stop him because he was not following us.” Since Jesus wasn’t there, “we” is clearly the disciples. “Us” is less clear. It seems that John is setting up a hierarchy: The disciples follow Jesus, so they are a part of the upper level with Jesus. Everyone else is somewhere below, so they should defer not only to Jesus, but also to the disciples. I can’t help but wonder if part of the problem is that a chapter ago, when Jesus, Peter, James and John were coming down from the mountain after the Transfiguration, Jesus had cast out a demon that the disciples had been unable to cast out. It must have bothered John that someone outside of their group was able to do what the disciples couldn’t. Whatever the case, it probably would have been better for John to have said, “we tried to stop him because he was not following you.”
Jesus reply, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.” bears out that theory until it doesn’t. Jesus’ name still belongs to Jesus; it is not a brand name that needs protecting, as in, “Possessed by demons? Don’t settle for weak imitations. Only Jesus brand exorcisms are endorsed by the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. That’s Jesus brand exorcisms. Ask for them by name.” When Jesus returns to the pronoun “us,” he seems to muddy the waters. Shouldn’t he say, “Whoever is not against me is for me?” I suppose that it is possible that Jesus is referring to himself and God or to the Trinity, but I’m not aware of Jesus doing that in other places. It is more likely that Jesus is acknowledging the disciples’ place in his mission. They will, after all, be responsible for telling His story after the crucifixion.
There is something to this that transcends my fondness for grammar. We are the church and the church is us. That does not, however, mean that the church is ours. It belongs to Christ. Barclay says that, “He that is not against us is for us, is a test that we ought to apply to others. Am I intolerant? Am I given to condemning everyone who does not speak with my theology and worship with my liturgy and share my ideas? Am I limiting the kingdom of God to those who think as I do?” Ultimately, we aren’t testing others as much as we are testing our response to them.
The reading gives us two ends of the spectrum -- those who do acts of kindness to others because they bear Christ’s name and those who trips up a little one on the way to belief. Like John, we may be tempted to confine those who bear Christ’s name to those who think and worship as we do. Even restricting it to those who identify as Christians would be a mistake. To quote Barclay again, “Every person in need has a claim upon us because every person is dear to Christ. If Jesus had still been here in the flesh, he would have helped that person in the most practical way, and the duty of help has devolved on us.” Another simple error is to see ourselves as different from the “little ones.” Because we are all sinners and because none of us is capable of understanding even a fraction of God’s true nature, we are all little ones.
When he was among us, Jesus was task oriented, and his task involved in the process of relieving the suffering of humanity. When we see it as our job to point out the sins of others, even if our intent is to lead them to repentance and salvation, we are off-task. We are not meant to be mediators between God and sinners. Faith is not a task, but the work of a lifetime. Part of that work is to comfort others, to meet them where they are, just as Jesus did. AMEN
Sometimes a word just jumps out at me from a text. In the reading from Numbers, that word is “rabble,” as in, “The rabble among them had a strong craving.” This single word shows that it is not the fault of the Israelites that they are ungrateful to the point of whiny rebellion; it is the outsiders who have tagged along with them who reminded them how much tastier meat was than manna. In the gospel, the word is “us.” This humble little pronoun appears with its cousin “we” in the first verse when John says, “we tried to stop him because he was not following us.” Since Jesus wasn’t there, “we” is clearly the disciples. “Us” is less clear. It seems that John is setting up a hierarchy: The disciples follow Jesus, so they are a part of the upper level with Jesus. Everyone else is somewhere below, so they should defer not only to Jesus, but also to the disciples. I can’t help but wonder if part of the problem is that a chapter ago, when Jesus, Peter, James and John were coming down from the mountain after the Transfiguration, Jesus had cast out a demon that the disciples had been unable to cast out. It must have bothered John that someone outside of their group was able to do what the disciples couldn’t. Whatever the case, it probably would have been better for John to have said, “we tried to stop him because he was not following you.”
Jesus reply, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.” bears out that theory until it doesn’t. Jesus’ name still belongs to Jesus; it is not a brand name that needs protecting, as in, “Possessed by demons? Don’t settle for weak imitations. Only Jesus brand exorcisms are endorsed by the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. That’s Jesus brand exorcisms. Ask for them by name.” When Jesus returns to the pronoun “us,” he seems to muddy the waters. Shouldn’t he say, “Whoever is not against me is for me?” I suppose that it is possible that Jesus is referring to himself and God or to the Trinity, but I’m not aware of Jesus doing that in other places. It is more likely that Jesus is acknowledging the disciples’ place in his mission. They will, after all, be responsible for telling His story after the crucifixion.
There is something to this that transcends my fondness for grammar. We are the church and the church is us. That does not, however, mean that the church is ours. It belongs to Christ. Barclay says that, “He that is not against us is for us, is a test that we ought to apply to others. Am I intolerant? Am I given to condemning everyone who does not speak with my theology and worship with my liturgy and share my ideas? Am I limiting the kingdom of God to those who think as I do?” Ultimately, we aren’t testing others as much as we are testing our response to them.
The reading gives us two ends of the spectrum -- those who do acts of kindness to others because they bear Christ’s name and those who trips up a little one on the way to belief. Like John, we may be tempted to confine those who bear Christ’s name to those who think and worship as we do. Even restricting it to those who identify as Christians would be a mistake. To quote Barclay again, “Every person in need has a claim upon us because every person is dear to Christ. If Jesus had still been here in the flesh, he would have helped that person in the most practical way, and the duty of help has devolved on us.” Another simple error is to see ourselves as different from the “little ones.” Because we are all sinners and because none of us is capable of understanding even a fraction of God’s true nature, we are all little ones.
When he was among us, Jesus was task oriented, and his task involved in the process of relieving the suffering of humanity. When we see it as our job to point out the sins of others, even if our intent is to lead them to repentance and salvation, we are off-task. We are not meant to be mediators between God and sinners. Faith is not a task, but the work of a lifetime. Part of that work is to comfort others, to meet them where they are, just as Jesus did. AMEN
Pentecost 17: September 19, 2021
As I mentioned last week, Jesus is constantly on the move in Mark’s Gospel. The time between rally Sunday and the observation of the churches’ 151st anniversaries gives us an opportunity to reflect on the journey of faith. Jesus and the disciples are on the road to Jerusalem and the crucifixion, and it seems that even as their surroundings become more familiar, the disciples have greater difficulty understanding Jesus’ message. The way that Mark tells it, the discussion among the disciples is the result of fear. They are afraid to ask questions, and it seems that they are afraid to let Jesus do any more talking during the walk. The best way to stop listening is to start talking, and the disciples are likely picking up a conversation that they have had many times before -- who among them is the greatest?
I like to imagine that the disciples knew that Jesus was listening. After all, Jesus didn’t miss much. Because they knew Jesus was listening, I wonder if the disciples’ argument about who was the greatest wasn’t about bragging, but about trying to out-humble one another. I would guess that we have all done it -- put ourselves down so that others feel obligated to say nice things about us. If it did happen that way, at least the disciples showed a glimmer of understanding of what Jesus had been teaching them. Although the disciples’ silence when Jesus asked them what they had been talking about might indicate shame, we don’t really know how long Jesus waited before telling them the correct way to go about being the first.
The idea of getting ahead by going backward probably sounded as strange to the disciples as it does to us, and that is why Jesus used the journey as a part of the teaching. It is a very normal human tendency to believe that what we have always believed, what makes sense to us, is the way that things should be. As Jesus and the disciples traveled through foreign countries, the disciples were able to take comfort in the idea that at least they did things the right way “back home.” But, as Dube puts it, “ A positive journey includes willingness on the part of the traveler, not only to embrace a new place and new perspective, but also to allow oneself to begin to see home, or that which is familiar, as strange. Such a journey becomes gainful, allowing travelers to rethink home or the status quo.”
As Jesus places the child among them and embraces it, he is bucking the status quo by once again making the unseen seen as he had done with women and lepers, Samaritans and tax collectors, the blind and the crippled… and he says “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” I might not be much sharper than the disciples, but the fact that Jesus uses the word “welcome” four times in one sentence gives me an inkling that it might be important.
Jesus is offering the disciples an antidote to their fear: he is giving them a task and a purpose. Instead of ignoring their fear or trying to cover it with inane chatter, the disciples can welcome God by welcoming others. They (and we) will need to overcome their desire to reach out first to those who have something to offer in return. They (and we) will have to learn to reach out to the broken, lost, and vulnerable in spite of the fact that many of them are not innocent in their suffering and that not all of them will show gratitude.
Remember too that Jesus is not giving advice to individuals, but to the community of believers. As we prepare to observe our anniversaries, we need to challenge ourselves to reckon with our fears, to admit that, intentionally or unintentionally, we continue to push some of our neighbors to the margins, and to set our sights on becoming truly welcoming. Our mission statement is, “Serving together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond.” In order to accomplish that, we must follow the example of Jesus, which Chelsey Harmon describes, “Instead of clinging to things of this world, Jesus, as God, is inviting them to enter into his way by becoming like God and welcoming others through service and sacrifice. Which, it bears repeating, is the literal work of Christ in his life and death, and is also the thing that makes the disciples the most afraid.” AMEN
As I mentioned last week, Jesus is constantly on the move in Mark’s Gospel. The time between rally Sunday and the observation of the churches’ 151st anniversaries gives us an opportunity to reflect on the journey of faith. Jesus and the disciples are on the road to Jerusalem and the crucifixion, and it seems that even as their surroundings become more familiar, the disciples have greater difficulty understanding Jesus’ message. The way that Mark tells it, the discussion among the disciples is the result of fear. They are afraid to ask questions, and it seems that they are afraid to let Jesus do any more talking during the walk. The best way to stop listening is to start talking, and the disciples are likely picking up a conversation that they have had many times before -- who among them is the greatest?
I like to imagine that the disciples knew that Jesus was listening. After all, Jesus didn’t miss much. Because they knew Jesus was listening, I wonder if the disciples’ argument about who was the greatest wasn’t about bragging, but about trying to out-humble one another. I would guess that we have all done it -- put ourselves down so that others feel obligated to say nice things about us. If it did happen that way, at least the disciples showed a glimmer of understanding of what Jesus had been teaching them. Although the disciples’ silence when Jesus asked them what they had been talking about might indicate shame, we don’t really know how long Jesus waited before telling them the correct way to go about being the first.
The idea of getting ahead by going backward probably sounded as strange to the disciples as it does to us, and that is why Jesus used the journey as a part of the teaching. It is a very normal human tendency to believe that what we have always believed, what makes sense to us, is the way that things should be. As Jesus and the disciples traveled through foreign countries, the disciples were able to take comfort in the idea that at least they did things the right way “back home.” But, as Dube puts it, “ A positive journey includes willingness on the part of the traveler, not only to embrace a new place and new perspective, but also to allow oneself to begin to see home, or that which is familiar, as strange. Such a journey becomes gainful, allowing travelers to rethink home or the status quo.”
As Jesus places the child among them and embraces it, he is bucking the status quo by once again making the unseen seen as he had done with women and lepers, Samaritans and tax collectors, the blind and the crippled… and he says “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” I might not be much sharper than the disciples, but the fact that Jesus uses the word “welcome” four times in one sentence gives me an inkling that it might be important.
Jesus is offering the disciples an antidote to their fear: he is giving them a task and a purpose. Instead of ignoring their fear or trying to cover it with inane chatter, the disciples can welcome God by welcoming others. They (and we) will need to overcome their desire to reach out first to those who have something to offer in return. They (and we) will have to learn to reach out to the broken, lost, and vulnerable in spite of the fact that many of them are not innocent in their suffering and that not all of them will show gratitude.
Remember too that Jesus is not giving advice to individuals, but to the community of believers. As we prepare to observe our anniversaries, we need to challenge ourselves to reckon with our fears, to admit that, intentionally or unintentionally, we continue to push some of our neighbors to the margins, and to set our sights on becoming truly welcoming. Our mission statement is, “Serving together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond.” In order to accomplish that, we must follow the example of Jesus, which Chelsey Harmon describes, “Instead of clinging to things of this world, Jesus, as God, is inviting them to enter into his way by becoming like God and welcoming others through service and sacrifice. Which, it bears repeating, is the literal work of Christ in his life and death, and is also the thing that makes the disciples the most afraid.” AMEN
Rally Sunday: September 12, 2021
In my opinion, the most remarkable thing about Jesus isn’t that he is the Son of God, that he was able to perform miracles, heal the sick, and raise the dead, or even that he was able to live a life free of sin; the most remarkable thing that Jesus did was to take twelve otherwise ordinary men (and almost certainly a number of women) and prepare them to lay the groundwork for the Church. There can be no doubt that Jesus was the greatest teacher that the world has ever seen, and he did it without formal training of any kind, without a budget, and without a campus or even a classroom.
Today’s gospel reading comes from the section of Mark during which Jesus does his most focused teaching: “he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.’But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” This encounter with the children comes between the second and third time that Jesus tells the disciples about his impending death, and they are firmly on the road to Jerusalem. There is no time for lectures or even parables. Jesus knows that the disciples will soon abandon him and scatter and that his teachings need to become so deeply ingrained in them that they will be able to recall them later so that they can understand them and pass them on to the rest of the world.
Unfortunately, the disciples repeatedly fail to grasp what Jesus is trying to tell them; like many other students throughout history, they seem more interested in their side conversations and in reporting what others are doing than they are in learning. Just a few verses earlier, “Jesus took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’”, yet the disciples are unwilling to allow people to bring their children to Jesus. It is easy to write off the disciples as a bunch of dimwitted dolts, but their main problem is identical to ours -- they are human -- scared of what will happen to them when Jesus is gone, jockeying for position as Jesus’ favorite, feeling that their relationship with Jesus gives them the right to determine who else has access to Jesus… It is this last, especially, that Jesus deals with in Mark as the disciples attempt to “protect” Jesus from those they deem unworthy of his time. To counter this, Jesus repeatedly demonstrates the importance of even the smallest help and encouragement given to those in need as opposed to the evil of hindering those in need of Jesus’ touch.
As we ponder this, we need to remember that blindness, leprosy, poverty and hunger were not abstractions for Jesus and that he did not spend his life among those on the margins simply to provide “teachable moments” for his disciples. On one hand, the presence of children across the Gospel indicates that Jesus interacted with children throughout his ministry. Behind these stories are actual children in need of the healing, feeding, caring, blessing, and welcome of Jesus. On the other hand, children, like those possessed by evil spirits, the blind and the sick in the Gospel of Mark also play an important symbolic role, representing all those who were without power, status, or security.
The disciples were sometimes childish as they bickered amongst themselves and refused to share Jesus with others. Jesus taught them instead to become childlike, growing into the understanding that they are dependent on God -- no more capable of saving themselves than the most unrepentant of sinners. He taught them that faith doesn’t provide all of the answers, but it does allow our doubts, questions, and even protests to be shared without fear that doing so will threaten the continuing gift of divine love and grace. AMEN
In my opinion, the most remarkable thing about Jesus isn’t that he is the Son of God, that he was able to perform miracles, heal the sick, and raise the dead, or even that he was able to live a life free of sin; the most remarkable thing that Jesus did was to take twelve otherwise ordinary men (and almost certainly a number of women) and prepare them to lay the groundwork for the Church. There can be no doubt that Jesus was the greatest teacher that the world has ever seen, and he did it without formal training of any kind, without a budget, and without a campus or even a classroom.
Today’s gospel reading comes from the section of Mark during which Jesus does his most focused teaching: “he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.’But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” This encounter with the children comes between the second and third time that Jesus tells the disciples about his impending death, and they are firmly on the road to Jerusalem. There is no time for lectures or even parables. Jesus knows that the disciples will soon abandon him and scatter and that his teachings need to become so deeply ingrained in them that they will be able to recall them later so that they can understand them and pass them on to the rest of the world.
Unfortunately, the disciples repeatedly fail to grasp what Jesus is trying to tell them; like many other students throughout history, they seem more interested in their side conversations and in reporting what others are doing than they are in learning. Just a few verses earlier, “Jesus took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’”, yet the disciples are unwilling to allow people to bring their children to Jesus. It is easy to write off the disciples as a bunch of dimwitted dolts, but their main problem is identical to ours -- they are human -- scared of what will happen to them when Jesus is gone, jockeying for position as Jesus’ favorite, feeling that their relationship with Jesus gives them the right to determine who else has access to Jesus… It is this last, especially, that Jesus deals with in Mark as the disciples attempt to “protect” Jesus from those they deem unworthy of his time. To counter this, Jesus repeatedly demonstrates the importance of even the smallest help and encouragement given to those in need as opposed to the evil of hindering those in need of Jesus’ touch.
As we ponder this, we need to remember that blindness, leprosy, poverty and hunger were not abstractions for Jesus and that he did not spend his life among those on the margins simply to provide “teachable moments” for his disciples. On one hand, the presence of children across the Gospel indicates that Jesus interacted with children throughout his ministry. Behind these stories are actual children in need of the healing, feeding, caring, blessing, and welcome of Jesus. On the other hand, children, like those possessed by evil spirits, the blind and the sick in the Gospel of Mark also play an important symbolic role, representing all those who were without power, status, or security.
The disciples were sometimes childish as they bickered amongst themselves and refused to share Jesus with others. Jesus taught them instead to become childlike, growing into the understanding that they are dependent on God -- no more capable of saving themselves than the most unrepentant of sinners. He taught them that faith doesn’t provide all of the answers, but it does allow our doubts, questions, and even protests to be shared without fear that doing so will threaten the continuing gift of divine love and grace. AMEN
Joint Worship Service: September 1, 2021
Tonight’s readings take us back to the beginning, or very nearly so. Because they have eaten what they were told not to eat, Adam and Eve will no longer live in Eden in close communion with God. Instead of eternal life in the Garden, they now face a life of pain and toil that will end in death, and a return to the dust from whence they came. The reading from Ecclesiastes follows the passage that we often hear at funerals -- For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven… It picks up the theme of toil. How can we find meaning in our struggle to survive? Our understanding of what God is up to is extremely limited, and our lives are short. There must be something more than earning our sustenance by our labor, something that will outlast us.
The answer is surprisingly simple: Amid the struggles and toil of life, we are given occasions of joy; the simple gifts of eating, drinking, and enjoying our work, for example. The times when we notice the beauty of the world around us, spending time with people we love and who love us, connecting with art, music, and literature… When we get caught up in nostalgia or in pursuit of future happiness based on something that seems bigger or more important, we are liable to miss these moments. It is only by living each moment as it comes that we can avoid brooding over what we have missed or fretting over what might happen next. Lives focused on finding joy in the everyday are like plots of fertile land, passed on from one generation to the next.
In the Gospel reading, Jesus adds to our conversation about toil and food. It is midday, and Jesus and the disciples have stopped for a much-needed break at Jacob’s well. The disciples have gone off to tend to the business of finding some food, while Jesus has been visiting with a Samaritan woman who has returned to her village to tell them that she has met the Messiah. When the disciples return, Jesus is no longer hungry. They assume that it is because someone has fed him, but it is because he has been energized by doing what he has been sent to do. As usual, Jesus takes advantage of the opportunity to teach the disciples (and us) to raise our minds to the heavenly by using what is at hand. In this case, Jesus and the disciples are looking over fields of grain, and they can likely see the people from the village coming toward them. Jesus begins by quoting a proverb: if you sow the seed, you must wait for at least four months before you can hope to begin to reap the harvest. As we all know, there are many things that can happen to a crop between planting and harvest.
Jesus proceeds to tell them that this has all changed. While the disciples probably believed that they were early in the process of planting seeds, and that it would be a waste of time and seed to plant in Samaria, Jesus points to the people of the village who have just heard the woman’s testimony and are coming to hear more. Jesus is about to harvest what has just been planted. As in the reading from Ecclesiastes, we are reminded of the importance of the present. With Jesus, the Kingdom has come into the world. Instead of anticipating the end to come, we are called to participate in the end that is already here; purposeful work, more than patient waiting, shapes the fundamental virtues of Christian life.
Jesus also shares a second proverb: One sows and another harvests. Jesus was sowing the seed that the disciples would harvest. The day would come when the disciples would go out into the world and reap the harvest that His life, death, and Cross had sown. The day would also come when they would sow and others would reap. We don’t need to get bogged down with concerns that our efforts will be wasted, because it is Jesus who completes. Our focus is on the part of it we can do, knowing that there are other workers as well. AMEN
Tonight’s readings take us back to the beginning, or very nearly so. Because they have eaten what they were told not to eat, Adam and Eve will no longer live in Eden in close communion with God. Instead of eternal life in the Garden, they now face a life of pain and toil that will end in death, and a return to the dust from whence they came. The reading from Ecclesiastes follows the passage that we often hear at funerals -- For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven… It picks up the theme of toil. How can we find meaning in our struggle to survive? Our understanding of what God is up to is extremely limited, and our lives are short. There must be something more than earning our sustenance by our labor, something that will outlast us.
The answer is surprisingly simple: Amid the struggles and toil of life, we are given occasions of joy; the simple gifts of eating, drinking, and enjoying our work, for example. The times when we notice the beauty of the world around us, spending time with people we love and who love us, connecting with art, music, and literature… When we get caught up in nostalgia or in pursuit of future happiness based on something that seems bigger or more important, we are liable to miss these moments. It is only by living each moment as it comes that we can avoid brooding over what we have missed or fretting over what might happen next. Lives focused on finding joy in the everyday are like plots of fertile land, passed on from one generation to the next.
In the Gospel reading, Jesus adds to our conversation about toil and food. It is midday, and Jesus and the disciples have stopped for a much-needed break at Jacob’s well. The disciples have gone off to tend to the business of finding some food, while Jesus has been visiting with a Samaritan woman who has returned to her village to tell them that she has met the Messiah. When the disciples return, Jesus is no longer hungry. They assume that it is because someone has fed him, but it is because he has been energized by doing what he has been sent to do. As usual, Jesus takes advantage of the opportunity to teach the disciples (and us) to raise our minds to the heavenly by using what is at hand. In this case, Jesus and the disciples are looking over fields of grain, and they can likely see the people from the village coming toward them. Jesus begins by quoting a proverb: if you sow the seed, you must wait for at least four months before you can hope to begin to reap the harvest. As we all know, there are many things that can happen to a crop between planting and harvest.
Jesus proceeds to tell them that this has all changed. While the disciples probably believed that they were early in the process of planting seeds, and that it would be a waste of time and seed to plant in Samaria, Jesus points to the people of the village who have just heard the woman’s testimony and are coming to hear more. Jesus is about to harvest what has just been planted. As in the reading from Ecclesiastes, we are reminded of the importance of the present. With Jesus, the Kingdom has come into the world. Instead of anticipating the end to come, we are called to participate in the end that is already here; purposeful work, more than patient waiting, shapes the fundamental virtues of Christian life.
Jesus also shares a second proverb: One sows and another harvests. Jesus was sowing the seed that the disciples would harvest. The day would come when the disciples would go out into the world and reap the harvest that His life, death, and Cross had sown. The day would also come when they would sow and others would reap. We don’t need to get bogged down with concerns that our efforts will be wasted, because it is Jesus who completes. Our focus is on the part of it we can do, knowing that there are other workers as well. AMEN
Job 42: August 29,2021
There are 42 chapters in Job; Job’s suffering begins halfway through the first chapter and his “redemption” takes up only the last eight verses of the final chapter. Job is never told about the role of the Satan in his suffering. Not a single one of Job’s questions is ever answered. Instead, he recants his questions and repents. God is angry at Job’s friends, but God lets them off the hook after they make a sacrifice and Job prays for them. Finally, God “restores the fortunes of Job.” In fact, “the Lord bless(es) the latter days of Job more than his beginning.” Job lives to see four generations of his offspring before he dies, “old and full of days.”
If we are not exhausted from following Job’s journey, we are left with some questions, like: Why was Job able to intercede for his friends who had angered God, but not for his children who were, as far as we know, innocent? Why do all of these “brothers and sisters” who have stayed away until now suddenly show up to eat his bread and offer him money and gold rings, along with sympathy and comfort “for all the evil the Lord had brought upon him”? Why are Job’s daughters named and given inheritances? And, finally, how could Job ever truly enjoy his new family as a gift from God, knowing that God had taken his first family from him?
Not only do we have these new questions, we are also left with the original question: why do bad things happen to good people? According to Richard Rohr, “Job suggests three solutions to the problem of evil: God is not all-powerful, God is not good or just, and humanity is the cause of evil. If I had to choose between the three, I’d draw closest to the first. Our definition of God as all-powerful and always in charge is not adequate. I believe that power can be seen as slipping from God’s hands. God, in giving us the gift of freedom, seems to have given up at least some omnipotence.”
Something like seven centuries later, Matthew took up the quest for clarity in the difference between good and evil, the faithful and the wicked, who is blessed and who is cursed, who has ears and who does not. The parable of the wheat and the tares is an example of this pursuit. As happens often in Matthew, Jesus tells one version of the parable to the masses and another to the disciples. I chose not to include the explanation to the disciples in today’s Gospel reading for a couple of reasons. First off, the beauty of parables is that they are open to many interpretations, and they are usually a simpler way of describing a complex idea. Why would Jesus even bother to use a parable if his meaning could be reduced to a simple statement? Also, the two versions reinforce an “us vs. them” theme that is common in Matthew. I’m sure that the disciples were comforted to hear that on the last day the wheat would be vindicated while the tares would go up in smoke, but that only works in a binary system. It doesn’t provide much comfort to us today as we survey a world that seems to have been overtaken by weeds.
While it may not comfort us, the parable of the wheat and tares offers several truths. First off, evil exists. Just as there is no perfect field, there is no perfect life -- no perfect person. Some of it comes from outside of us, but we all contribute to the sowing of weeds. Secondly, we are ill-equipped for the job of telling wheat from weeds. As a result, “We have always railed against sins which were specific, measurable, and shame-based instead of the much more subtle demons (ambition, greed, power, vanity, and idolatry) which suffocate and destroy the power of the Gospel in God’s people (Rohr).” Finally, evil and sin are real and painful, but they are neither foundational nor final. Just as the seeds of the tares had to be separated from the wheat before milling because they were semi-poisonous, Christ is coming to separate the wheat from the chaff. In his analysis of this parable, John MacArthur concludes: “And the world, you see, is moving toward this. Every human life is moving toward that inevitable hour. Today, at least 5,282 people in the United States alone will die and enter eternity; most of them will go to hell. And this final parable brings us up short with a sense of severe warning.” Using a different metaphor, Richard Rohr says, “All things are partially light and partially darkness -- all things, including the Pope, the church, our bishop, and ourselves. The problem is not out there. The problem isn’t your church or the fact that your spouse isn’t perfect. You’ve got to begin, as Jesus always said, with yourself. What a relief when we can let go of the need to explain and fix others.” It is only through our own struggles that we can reach our own conclusions. AMEN
There are 42 chapters in Job; Job’s suffering begins halfway through the first chapter and his “redemption” takes up only the last eight verses of the final chapter. Job is never told about the role of the Satan in his suffering. Not a single one of Job’s questions is ever answered. Instead, he recants his questions and repents. God is angry at Job’s friends, but God lets them off the hook after they make a sacrifice and Job prays for them. Finally, God “restores the fortunes of Job.” In fact, “the Lord bless(es) the latter days of Job more than his beginning.” Job lives to see four generations of his offspring before he dies, “old and full of days.”
If we are not exhausted from following Job’s journey, we are left with some questions, like: Why was Job able to intercede for his friends who had angered God, but not for his children who were, as far as we know, innocent? Why do all of these “brothers and sisters” who have stayed away until now suddenly show up to eat his bread and offer him money and gold rings, along with sympathy and comfort “for all the evil the Lord had brought upon him”? Why are Job’s daughters named and given inheritances? And, finally, how could Job ever truly enjoy his new family as a gift from God, knowing that God had taken his first family from him?
Not only do we have these new questions, we are also left with the original question: why do bad things happen to good people? According to Richard Rohr, “Job suggests three solutions to the problem of evil: God is not all-powerful, God is not good or just, and humanity is the cause of evil. If I had to choose between the three, I’d draw closest to the first. Our definition of God as all-powerful and always in charge is not adequate. I believe that power can be seen as slipping from God’s hands. God, in giving us the gift of freedom, seems to have given up at least some omnipotence.”
Something like seven centuries later, Matthew took up the quest for clarity in the difference between good and evil, the faithful and the wicked, who is blessed and who is cursed, who has ears and who does not. The parable of the wheat and the tares is an example of this pursuit. As happens often in Matthew, Jesus tells one version of the parable to the masses and another to the disciples. I chose not to include the explanation to the disciples in today’s Gospel reading for a couple of reasons. First off, the beauty of parables is that they are open to many interpretations, and they are usually a simpler way of describing a complex idea. Why would Jesus even bother to use a parable if his meaning could be reduced to a simple statement? Also, the two versions reinforce an “us vs. them” theme that is common in Matthew. I’m sure that the disciples were comforted to hear that on the last day the wheat would be vindicated while the tares would go up in smoke, but that only works in a binary system. It doesn’t provide much comfort to us today as we survey a world that seems to have been overtaken by weeds.
While it may not comfort us, the parable of the wheat and tares offers several truths. First off, evil exists. Just as there is no perfect field, there is no perfect life -- no perfect person. Some of it comes from outside of us, but we all contribute to the sowing of weeds. Secondly, we are ill-equipped for the job of telling wheat from weeds. As a result, “We have always railed against sins which were specific, measurable, and shame-based instead of the much more subtle demons (ambition, greed, power, vanity, and idolatry) which suffocate and destroy the power of the Gospel in God’s people (Rohr).” Finally, evil and sin are real and painful, but they are neither foundational nor final. Just as the seeds of the tares had to be separated from the wheat before milling because they were semi-poisonous, Christ is coming to separate the wheat from the chaff. In his analysis of this parable, John MacArthur concludes: “And the world, you see, is moving toward this. Every human life is moving toward that inevitable hour. Today, at least 5,282 people in the United States alone will die and enter eternity; most of them will go to hell. And this final parable brings us up short with a sense of severe warning.” Using a different metaphor, Richard Rohr says, “All things are partially light and partially darkness -- all things, including the Pope, the church, our bishop, and ourselves. The problem is not out there. The problem isn’t your church or the fact that your spouse isn’t perfect. You’ve got to begin, as Jesus always said, with yourself. What a relief when we can let go of the need to explain and fix others.” It is only through our own struggles that we can reach our own conclusions. AMEN
August 22, 2021
This week’s two readings set the voice of God next to the voice of Jesus. Neither text gives us any clues as to how either spoke, but it is likely that we hear thunder in God’s voice, while Jesus’ voice is imagined as being more gentle and soothing. It would also seem that God is correcting Job, while Jesus is instructing the crowds in this portion of the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus’ questions: “Are you not of more value than (the birds of the air)?” and “if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you?” are rhetorical because the answers are obvious. In the divine address in Job, God asks Job three sorts of questions: Who are you? Where were you? Are you able? These questions also seem to be rhetorical, but for a different reason; they seem impossible to answer, unless the answers are, I am no one, I was not there, and I am not able.
While I take no issue with the idea that Job needs to be reminded that God is God and Job is not, I struggle to find a satisfying message if I stop there. The options seem to be that God lets bad things happen to us to keep us in our place (or to teach us some other sort of lesson), or that God allows us to suffer to give us the opportunity to serve as examples of unwavering faith. Like Job’s friends, I am left with platitudes like: God doesn't give us more than we can handle, or What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, or even "It is for your own good" or "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you."
Job’s questions revolved around the idea of “justice.” He was sure that God rewarded good and punished evil, and that God’s punishment of Job must be based on a misunderstanding. Job’s friends went back and forth between telling Job that he just needed to ‘fess up and take his medicine and that Job’s situation wasn’t really as bad as he thought it was (and that better times were surely right around the corner). God’s response does nothing to answer any of Job’s questions. Instead, God shows Job new possibilities for understanding. Unfortunately for Job, and for us, the first step was and is to figure out that we are not the center of the universe. The divine discourses make it clear that humans have taken the idea of our dominion over creation much too far. God is not being sarcastic when he asks Job where he was when God laid the foundation of the earth, and God is not simply beating Job into submission with examples of Job’s inadequacies for four chapters. Job has already credited God with creative powers, including wrestling with the question of how a God who loved him enough to create him could treat him so poorly.
God is asking Job to let go of his framework of retribution and to further explore his relationship with God through the lens of love. Much of creation is beyond human control: the weather, the sea, and the stars, for example. In addition, much of creation is of no practical use to humans (or even hostile to them), yet God has called all of creation good. Like Job, we need to let go of the idea that God created everything for the pleasure of humans. One of Satan’s original arguments in Job was that Job was only righteous because God had placed a hedge around Job, allowing him to prosper. In a sense, Job was worshipping the hedge instead of God.
In the divine discourse, God shows Job that God loves creatures that do absolutely nothing for God -- creatures like hippos, crocodiles and platypuses that don’t really seem to have any purpose at all. As Jesus reminds the crowds, we are never in danger of losing God’s love for us. Instead, we are called to focus on our response to that love, on how to live into our relationship with God, on our vocations (which will be the subject of my next sermon). AMEN
This week’s two readings set the voice of God next to the voice of Jesus. Neither text gives us any clues as to how either spoke, but it is likely that we hear thunder in God’s voice, while Jesus’ voice is imagined as being more gentle and soothing. It would also seem that God is correcting Job, while Jesus is instructing the crowds in this portion of the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus’ questions: “Are you not of more value than (the birds of the air)?” and “if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you?” are rhetorical because the answers are obvious. In the divine address in Job, God asks Job three sorts of questions: Who are you? Where were you? Are you able? These questions also seem to be rhetorical, but for a different reason; they seem impossible to answer, unless the answers are, I am no one, I was not there, and I am not able.
While I take no issue with the idea that Job needs to be reminded that God is God and Job is not, I struggle to find a satisfying message if I stop there. The options seem to be that God lets bad things happen to us to keep us in our place (or to teach us some other sort of lesson), or that God allows us to suffer to give us the opportunity to serve as examples of unwavering faith. Like Job’s friends, I am left with platitudes like: God doesn't give us more than we can handle, or What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, or even "It is for your own good" or "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you."
Job’s questions revolved around the idea of “justice.” He was sure that God rewarded good and punished evil, and that God’s punishment of Job must be based on a misunderstanding. Job’s friends went back and forth between telling Job that he just needed to ‘fess up and take his medicine and that Job’s situation wasn’t really as bad as he thought it was (and that better times were surely right around the corner). God’s response does nothing to answer any of Job’s questions. Instead, God shows Job new possibilities for understanding. Unfortunately for Job, and for us, the first step was and is to figure out that we are not the center of the universe. The divine discourses make it clear that humans have taken the idea of our dominion over creation much too far. God is not being sarcastic when he asks Job where he was when God laid the foundation of the earth, and God is not simply beating Job into submission with examples of Job’s inadequacies for four chapters. Job has already credited God with creative powers, including wrestling with the question of how a God who loved him enough to create him could treat him so poorly.
God is asking Job to let go of his framework of retribution and to further explore his relationship with God through the lens of love. Much of creation is beyond human control: the weather, the sea, and the stars, for example. In addition, much of creation is of no practical use to humans (or even hostile to them), yet God has called all of creation good. Like Job, we need to let go of the idea that God created everything for the pleasure of humans. One of Satan’s original arguments in Job was that Job was only righteous because God had placed a hedge around Job, allowing him to prosper. In a sense, Job was worshipping the hedge instead of God.
In the divine discourse, God shows Job that God loves creatures that do absolutely nothing for God -- creatures like hippos, crocodiles and platypuses that don’t really seem to have any purpose at all. As Jesus reminds the crowds, we are never in danger of losing God’s love for us. Instead, we are called to focus on our response to that love, on how to live into our relationship with God, on our vocations (which will be the subject of my next sermon). AMEN
Job 31:35-37,38:1-11 August 18, 2021
Job has reached a dangerous point in his search for understanding. Perhaps it is because his friends are calling him to confess not particular sins, but general sinfulness common to everything but God. He has just finished running through a list of sins that he has not committed, but that he would certainly take responsibility for if he had. Now he caps it off by first accusing God of either not existing or not listening, followed by a vow that if God would just tell him what he has been accused of, he would be proud to prove his innocence. Since Job’s attempt to communicate with God is a form of prayer, this provides an opportunity for us to think for a moment about our own prayers.
Our prayers don’t need to be fancy; in fact, Jesus warns the disciples about prayers designed to attract attention to the one praying. In her book on prayer, “Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers,” Ann Lamott says in her definition of prayer, “Prayer is not for display purposes, like plastic sushi or neon. Prayer is private, even when we pray with others. It is communication from the heart to that which surpasses understanding. Let’s say it is communication from one’s heart to God.” Mother Teresa said, “God speaks in the silence of the heart. Listening is the beginning of prayer,” which she further explained, “I used to pray that God would feed the hungry, or do this or that, but now I pray that he will guide me to do whatever I'm supposed to do, what I can do. I used to pray for answers, but now I'm praying for strength. I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we change things.”
While I occasionally remember to ask God to use me, my prayers too often resemble a child’s letter to Santa in that the only hoped-for response is that I get what I want. We might ask ourselves if Job really wants an answer at this point; a God weak enough to be accountable to humans hardly seems worth worshipping. Whether Job is ready or not, God speaks to him out of a whirlwind, and the opening lines are doozies: “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me.” If Job is feeling superior to his friends because he is speaking to God while they are talking about God, that feeling is about to end. I read the first line of God’s response as a way of God saying, “How dare you assume that your will is my will, that your understanding is my understanding?” and the next line as, “You asked to stand before me to explain my unfairness. You asked for it -- you’ve got it.”
Way back in chapter five, after Job cursed the day he was born and asked God to reverse creation, God responded in an attempt to correct Job. Although Job has been talking to God, it has been a ranting monologue rather than a discussion. It feels a lot like a parent waiting for a child to finish a tantrum before attempting to have a rational discussion about the cause of the tantrum. Unlike a modern parent, God doesn’t seem to feel the need to reward Job every time Job comes close to the truth. Job has acknowledged that he will need to remind himself even of the essential truth -- that his Redeemer lives, and most of what he has been able to understand is just glimpses around corners. The truth that God is about to provide is quite simple: God is God and Job is not God. Our own prayers need to center on that understanding. God does not exist to do our will. We exist to do God’s will. AMEN
Job has reached a dangerous point in his search for understanding. Perhaps it is because his friends are calling him to confess not particular sins, but general sinfulness common to everything but God. He has just finished running through a list of sins that he has not committed, but that he would certainly take responsibility for if he had. Now he caps it off by first accusing God of either not existing or not listening, followed by a vow that if God would just tell him what he has been accused of, he would be proud to prove his innocence. Since Job’s attempt to communicate with God is a form of prayer, this provides an opportunity for us to think for a moment about our own prayers.
Our prayers don’t need to be fancy; in fact, Jesus warns the disciples about prayers designed to attract attention to the one praying. In her book on prayer, “Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers,” Ann Lamott says in her definition of prayer, “Prayer is not for display purposes, like plastic sushi or neon. Prayer is private, even when we pray with others. It is communication from the heart to that which surpasses understanding. Let’s say it is communication from one’s heart to God.” Mother Teresa said, “God speaks in the silence of the heart. Listening is the beginning of prayer,” which she further explained, “I used to pray that God would feed the hungry, or do this or that, but now I pray that he will guide me to do whatever I'm supposed to do, what I can do. I used to pray for answers, but now I'm praying for strength. I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we change things.”
While I occasionally remember to ask God to use me, my prayers too often resemble a child’s letter to Santa in that the only hoped-for response is that I get what I want. We might ask ourselves if Job really wants an answer at this point; a God weak enough to be accountable to humans hardly seems worth worshipping. Whether Job is ready or not, God speaks to him out of a whirlwind, and the opening lines are doozies: “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me.” If Job is feeling superior to his friends because he is speaking to God while they are talking about God, that feeling is about to end. I read the first line of God’s response as a way of God saying, “How dare you assume that your will is my will, that your understanding is my understanding?” and the next line as, “You asked to stand before me to explain my unfairness. You asked for it -- you’ve got it.”
Way back in chapter five, after Job cursed the day he was born and asked God to reverse creation, God responded in an attempt to correct Job. Although Job has been talking to God, it has been a ranting monologue rather than a discussion. It feels a lot like a parent waiting for a child to finish a tantrum before attempting to have a rational discussion about the cause of the tantrum. Unlike a modern parent, God doesn’t seem to feel the need to reward Job every time Job comes close to the truth. Job has acknowledged that he will need to remind himself even of the essential truth -- that his Redeemer lives, and most of what he has been able to understand is just glimpses around corners. The truth that God is about to provide is quite simple: God is God and Job is not God. Our own prayers need to center on that understanding. God does not exist to do our will. We exist to do God’s will. AMEN
In the middle of today’s reading, Job asks to be hidden in Sheol. While Sheol is understood in several different ways, and it has evolved over time into Hades and then Hell, Job is most likely referring to the place where all the dead go, whether they are righteous or wicked -- a place devoid of emotion, thought, knowledge and wisdom -- a place with no light, no remembrance, no praise of God, no sound at all. There were various thoughts on whether the dead were completely cut off from God or if God’s presence reached into Sheol. In a way, Job is taking the saying, “ignorance is bliss” way past its normal limits, but he can’t quite give up. Even though Job claims that he wants to die, it seems that what he is really asking for is some time for his brain to rest while waiting for God’s reply. That is no surprise; up to this point, Job has been whipsawed between hope and despair numerous times during what has been a prolonged argument with himself. Every time that Job comes close to making sense of his relationship with God, the reality of his situation hits him and every time that the reality of his suffering threatens to overwhelm him, his basic understanding of God draws him back from the precipice. Through it all, his friends have droned on about how if Job would only admit God’s goodness and his own guilt, everything would work out in the end. Their response isn’t surprising either. They only need to look at Job to see that questioning one’s faith is the ultimate “slippery slope.”
As strange as it may seem to us, the first step in Job’s “recovery” is to let go of the hope that his friends cling to -- the hope that God rewards the just and punishes the unjust. In fact, it is this very hope that Satan has used to throw Job into despair: if God is a hedge that keeps evil away from Job because Job is righteous, anything bad that happens to Job is due to Job’s sinfulness. As many people continue to do, Job’s friends try to convince him that his sin may not have been intentional, that he might not have even known that he had done it, and that man’s natural relationship to God is that of filth to purity. Whether Job believes that he has sinned or not, he simply cannot make himself either abandon God altogether or settle for an understanding of God that makes no sense.
Along the way, Job raises questions about Sheol itself. If even a tree stump can produce new life in response to water, what sense does it make that humans simply sink into nothingness? On the other hand, even the mountains crumble and the soil is washed away by the water. Once Job realizes that nature itself is too unpredictable to be any help, he is left with a series of hypothetical questions, chief among them is, “If God created me, and God created me as not only capable of but predisposed to sin, why would God be so eager to destroy me for my sinfulness?” Personally, I think that’s an outstanding question.
The understanding that Job reaches in this section, the understanding that he wants preserved forever so that he doesn’t forget it, is a kind of turning upside-down of what God told Adam and Eve when they left the Garden: “ You are dust, and unto dust you shall return.” Instead of dust to life to dust, Job’s vision is life to dust to life. Keep in mind that this precedes our modern understanding of heaven, and it may or may not include actual death. It may be helpful to think back for a moment to Ruth’s journey from fullness to emptiness to fullness and Boaz’s role in it as their redeemer. Boaz interceded on behalf of Ruth and Naomi because they were family and because of how they had responded to tragedy.
Job is far from the end of his search for understanding, but he has at last freed himself from the burden of false understanding. He has abandoned answers in favor of questions. AMEN
As strange as it may seem to us, the first step in Job’s “recovery” is to let go of the hope that his friends cling to -- the hope that God rewards the just and punishes the unjust. In fact, it is this very hope that Satan has used to throw Job into despair: if God is a hedge that keeps evil away from Job because Job is righteous, anything bad that happens to Job is due to Job’s sinfulness. As many people continue to do, Job’s friends try to convince him that his sin may not have been intentional, that he might not have even known that he had done it, and that man’s natural relationship to God is that of filth to purity. Whether Job believes that he has sinned or not, he simply cannot make himself either abandon God altogether or settle for an understanding of God that makes no sense.
Along the way, Job raises questions about Sheol itself. If even a tree stump can produce new life in response to water, what sense does it make that humans simply sink into nothingness? On the other hand, even the mountains crumble and the soil is washed away by the water. Once Job realizes that nature itself is too unpredictable to be any help, he is left with a series of hypothetical questions, chief among them is, “If God created me, and God created me as not only capable of but predisposed to sin, why would God be so eager to destroy me for my sinfulness?” Personally, I think that’s an outstanding question.
The understanding that Job reaches in this section, the understanding that he wants preserved forever so that he doesn’t forget it, is a kind of turning upside-down of what God told Adam and Eve when they left the Garden: “ You are dust, and unto dust you shall return.” Instead of dust to life to dust, Job’s vision is life to dust to life. Keep in mind that this precedes our modern understanding of heaven, and it may or may not include actual death. It may be helpful to think back for a moment to Ruth’s journey from fullness to emptiness to fullness and Boaz’s role in it as their redeemer. Boaz interceded on behalf of Ruth and Naomi because they were family and because of how they had responded to tragedy.
Job is far from the end of his search for understanding, but he has at last freed himself from the burden of false understanding. He has abandoned answers in favor of questions. AMEN
August 1, 2021
At the end of the introduction, Job and his friends spend seven days and nights sitting together in silence out of respect for Job’s suffering. Job, a man so righteous and pious that even God uses him as an example, has lost his livestock, almost all of his servants, and all of his children. He is covered with festering sores, and even his wife wonders why he doesn’t curse God. When Job finally speaks, he holds nothing back. He wants to erase the day of his birth, no -- the night of his conception, no -- he wants to reverse the very order of creation. “Let there be darkness!” Job rages.
His friend, Eliphaz, responds in a typical, un-helpful way: “Job, think about all the times you have comforted others by telling them that God is good to the good and bad to the bad. You know that God’s plan is to reward the good and punish the evil. We have seen it happen over and over again. Don’t you believe what you have always said? Where’s the old confidence in your goodness (and, for that matter, in God’s goodness)?
Job has a couple of issues with waiting patiently. First of all, he doesn’t see waiting as a passive process; just sitting on the ash heap, scraping his sores, listening to the hollow platitudes of his friends and believing that God will get around to rewarding him in God’s own time just isn’t going to cut it. It is not enough for Job to think about God or to be told about God; he wants to hear directly from God that there is reason to hope -- something worth waiting for and living into. This leads to the second issue: Job realizes that life is short -- much too short to spend waiting and wondering. He is going to use his time raising questions. Because they are not actually suffering, Job’s friends can find comfort in their established system of meaning. Because of his suffering, Job is willing to let go of that system, even though that means that he runs the risk of discovering that life is meaningless. He has been confronted by experiences that directly contradict all that he has ever believed, and the hedges that had felt so comforting when things were going well are now smothering him.
Job’s story is inviting us to wrestle with some fundamental, essential questions of faith, and I use the word “wrestle” very intentionally. Let’s start with what got Adam and Eve in trouble -- the knowledge of good and evil. In Job, the Satan is included among the “sons of God.” Early religious thought held that God was responsible for both good and evil. If we actually attempt to answer the question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” we need to ponder whether God causes them to happen, allows them to happen, or if those bad things indicate an absence of God. From the outside, it is easiest to play the long game: God has a plan that we don’t understand and everything is playing out the way that it is supposed to. I have used some variation of that logic more times than I care to admit.
The question that has gotten under my skin as I work through Job is what it means to be in relationship with God. The above questions portray God as a disengaged viewer of the struggle between good and evil, both in the world as a whole and in my life. I tell others that God is with them, even in their suffering, but I can’t begin to articulate what that looks like. What if, instead of watching me to see whether I should be rewarded or punished, God is an actual participant in my life? What if God hurts when I hurt and rejoices when I rejoice? Job seems to be reaching around for this when he questions why God is so interested in someone as insignificant as him.
Job has been speaking deeply to me this week. As the drought continues, the Coronavirus threatens to again rear its ugly head, and smoke fills the air, I can feel Job’s insignificance, his bewilderment at the evil that surrounds him, and his fear that he has built his world around a premise that may very well be false. The good news is that this puts me in prime position to learn and grow. AMEN
At the end of the introduction, Job and his friends spend seven days and nights sitting together in silence out of respect for Job’s suffering. Job, a man so righteous and pious that even God uses him as an example, has lost his livestock, almost all of his servants, and all of his children. He is covered with festering sores, and even his wife wonders why he doesn’t curse God. When Job finally speaks, he holds nothing back. He wants to erase the day of his birth, no -- the night of his conception, no -- he wants to reverse the very order of creation. “Let there be darkness!” Job rages.
His friend, Eliphaz, responds in a typical, un-helpful way: “Job, think about all the times you have comforted others by telling them that God is good to the good and bad to the bad. You know that God’s plan is to reward the good and punish the evil. We have seen it happen over and over again. Don’t you believe what you have always said? Where’s the old confidence in your goodness (and, for that matter, in God’s goodness)?
Job has a couple of issues with waiting patiently. First of all, he doesn’t see waiting as a passive process; just sitting on the ash heap, scraping his sores, listening to the hollow platitudes of his friends and believing that God will get around to rewarding him in God’s own time just isn’t going to cut it. It is not enough for Job to think about God or to be told about God; he wants to hear directly from God that there is reason to hope -- something worth waiting for and living into. This leads to the second issue: Job realizes that life is short -- much too short to spend waiting and wondering. He is going to use his time raising questions. Because they are not actually suffering, Job’s friends can find comfort in their established system of meaning. Because of his suffering, Job is willing to let go of that system, even though that means that he runs the risk of discovering that life is meaningless. He has been confronted by experiences that directly contradict all that he has ever believed, and the hedges that had felt so comforting when things were going well are now smothering him.
Job’s story is inviting us to wrestle with some fundamental, essential questions of faith, and I use the word “wrestle” very intentionally. Let’s start with what got Adam and Eve in trouble -- the knowledge of good and evil. In Job, the Satan is included among the “sons of God.” Early religious thought held that God was responsible for both good and evil. If we actually attempt to answer the question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” we need to ponder whether God causes them to happen, allows them to happen, or if those bad things indicate an absence of God. From the outside, it is easiest to play the long game: God has a plan that we don’t understand and everything is playing out the way that it is supposed to. I have used some variation of that logic more times than I care to admit.
The question that has gotten under my skin as I work through Job is what it means to be in relationship with God. The above questions portray God as a disengaged viewer of the struggle between good and evil, both in the world as a whole and in my life. I tell others that God is with them, even in their suffering, but I can’t begin to articulate what that looks like. What if, instead of watching me to see whether I should be rewarded or punished, God is an actual participant in my life? What if God hurts when I hurt and rejoices when I rejoice? Job seems to be reaching around for this when he questions why God is so interested in someone as insignificant as him.
Job has been speaking deeply to me this week. As the drought continues, the Coronavirus threatens to again rear its ugly head, and smoke fills the air, I can feel Job’s insignificance, his bewilderment at the evil that surrounds him, and his fear that he has built his world around a premise that may very well be false. The good news is that this puts me in prime position to learn and grow. AMEN
July 25, 2021 Job Chapters 1&2
We know that Job suffered and we may have heard or used the expression, “the patience of Job” to describe someone who is calm in the face of calamity. The author of the book of Job and his original audience during the time of the Babylonian Exile likely knew of Job as a legendary example of righteous piety. That might not sound too impressive to us -- we tend to see all righteousness as self-righteousness and all piety as false piety (in other words, we see people who present themselves as holy as phonies and hypocrites). Even so, we can see the connection between strong religious belief, morality, and success that marks Job at the beginning of the story. The feasts held by Job’s sons were most likely birthday celebrations, and we can see the first possible crack in Job’s armor when we learn that he is trying to be holy enough to cover any hidden sins that may be committed by his children.
The scene between God and the heavenly beings is interesting. It is reminiscent of the gatherings of the Roman Gods held to decide the fates of men. It is not Satan as we think of him as the devil who speaks in the story. In most translations it is “the Satan,” a title meaning something like accuser or adversary. It can be helpful to think of him as a prosecuting attorney presenting damning evidence to a judge (God). It seems oddly human of God to brag about Job, but he does. This leads the Satan to ask the question that is central to the story: Why are the righteous pious? Or Do we love God for what we get out of it, or do we love God for what God is?
At the time when Job was written, people were beginning to think about the concept of personal religion, which is what makes it so timely today. It is one thing to think of ourselves as a part of a God-fearing, moral society and quite another to wonder why God doesn’t attend to our every need. Along with questioning why God’s chosen people, with whom God had made several covenants, had been conquered and banished from their homeland, people were beginning to wonder why personal faithfulness wasn’t rewarded with personal success -- why do bad things happen to good people and why is God so slow to smite bad people?
A cool way to look at this is that the Satan accuses God of having built a hedge around Job to protect him from misfortune. It leads me to wonder what would have happened if God would have left the tree of the knowledge of good and evil out of the Garden of Eden or if the people could have been magically transported from Egypt to the Promised Land and allowed to prosper forever. Part of the answer comes later when Jesus comes to earth fully divine and fully human -- subject to every human weakness yet able to live without sin. For God as with humans, it seems that trust can only be complete when temptation or adversity have provided a test… but I’m getting ahead of myself.
God responds to the Satan’s challenge by telling the Satan that he can knock a hole in the hedge that protects Job, as long as he doesn’t do anything to Job himself. In short order, Job, at the same time as the readers, finds out that his donkeys and oxen have been taken and the servants accompanying them killed, the sheep and another group of servants have been burned up, the camels have been carried off and yet another group of servants killed, and the house in which all of his children were gathered has fallen down on them and killed them. Two of these tragedies are attributed to foreign powers and two to acts of nature. Not only has God not protected Job from his enemies, forces under the power of God (fire and wind) have accomplished much of the destruction.
Job responds in a very formal way by shaving his head and falling on the ground in prayer. His words, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” are likely not his true feelings, but rather a traditional saying or prayer. In chapter 2, God and the Satan meet again, and most of the discussion is identical. God is proud that Job has not been moved to sin or to criticize God. The Satan replies that people will give all that they have to save their lives, and God gives him permission to torment Job physically as long as he doesn’t kill him. Job is covered head to toe with sores, his wife tells him to curse God and die, and his friends arrive to find him unrecognizable in his pain. The introduction ends, “They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” We are set up for the ultimate test of the faith of God’s most perfect human.
We know that Job suffered and we may have heard or used the expression, “the patience of Job” to describe someone who is calm in the face of calamity. The author of the book of Job and his original audience during the time of the Babylonian Exile likely knew of Job as a legendary example of righteous piety. That might not sound too impressive to us -- we tend to see all righteousness as self-righteousness and all piety as false piety (in other words, we see people who present themselves as holy as phonies and hypocrites). Even so, we can see the connection between strong religious belief, morality, and success that marks Job at the beginning of the story. The feasts held by Job’s sons were most likely birthday celebrations, and we can see the first possible crack in Job’s armor when we learn that he is trying to be holy enough to cover any hidden sins that may be committed by his children.
The scene between God and the heavenly beings is interesting. It is reminiscent of the gatherings of the Roman Gods held to decide the fates of men. It is not Satan as we think of him as the devil who speaks in the story. In most translations it is “the Satan,” a title meaning something like accuser or adversary. It can be helpful to think of him as a prosecuting attorney presenting damning evidence to a judge (God). It seems oddly human of God to brag about Job, but he does. This leads the Satan to ask the question that is central to the story: Why are the righteous pious? Or Do we love God for what we get out of it, or do we love God for what God is?
At the time when Job was written, people were beginning to think about the concept of personal religion, which is what makes it so timely today. It is one thing to think of ourselves as a part of a God-fearing, moral society and quite another to wonder why God doesn’t attend to our every need. Along with questioning why God’s chosen people, with whom God had made several covenants, had been conquered and banished from their homeland, people were beginning to wonder why personal faithfulness wasn’t rewarded with personal success -- why do bad things happen to good people and why is God so slow to smite bad people?
A cool way to look at this is that the Satan accuses God of having built a hedge around Job to protect him from misfortune. It leads me to wonder what would have happened if God would have left the tree of the knowledge of good and evil out of the Garden of Eden or if the people could have been magically transported from Egypt to the Promised Land and allowed to prosper forever. Part of the answer comes later when Jesus comes to earth fully divine and fully human -- subject to every human weakness yet able to live without sin. For God as with humans, it seems that trust can only be complete when temptation or adversity have provided a test… but I’m getting ahead of myself.
God responds to the Satan’s challenge by telling the Satan that he can knock a hole in the hedge that protects Job, as long as he doesn’t do anything to Job himself. In short order, Job, at the same time as the readers, finds out that his donkeys and oxen have been taken and the servants accompanying them killed, the sheep and another group of servants have been burned up, the camels have been carried off and yet another group of servants killed, and the house in which all of his children were gathered has fallen down on them and killed them. Two of these tragedies are attributed to foreign powers and two to acts of nature. Not only has God not protected Job from his enemies, forces under the power of God (fire and wind) have accomplished much of the destruction.
Job responds in a very formal way by shaving his head and falling on the ground in prayer. His words, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” are likely not his true feelings, but rather a traditional saying or prayer. In chapter 2, God and the Satan meet again, and most of the discussion is identical. God is proud that Job has not been moved to sin or to criticize God. The Satan replies that people will give all that they have to save their lives, and God gives him permission to torment Job physically as long as he doesn’t kill him. Job is covered head to toe with sores, his wife tells him to curse God and die, and his friends arrive to find him unrecognizable in his pain. The introduction ends, “They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” We are set up for the ultimate test of the faith of God’s most perfect human.
Ruth Chapter 4, July 11, 2021
The defining events of the Old Testament are the Exodus from Egypt to the promised land and the Babylonian Exile: a time when Judah was conquered and the people were forced to live in foreign countries. While the people often complained that God wasn’t taking good enough care of them, they were relatively secure in the belief that they were God’s chosen people up until the Babylonian Exile. Although we can’t be sure, Ruth was probably written in the time when people had returned from the Babylonian exile. It is set between the time of the Judges, a time when “there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes” and the beginning of the unification of Israel under King David.
According to the Lutheran Study Bible, “Judges was written for people in exile in Babylon to show the exiles, ‘You are here because of your sins. But time after time, God heard the prayers of your ancestors when they were in trouble and helped them by sending deliverers. Now it is time for you to pray to God for help! Let’s hope that in God’s amazing grace, God will help once again!’” The return from exile raised new problems for the people of Israel. Some people had remained in Judah and continued to worship God, some had remained faithful in exile while others had adopted foreign customs and worshiped foreign gods -- where there had once been at least the illusion of uniformity, a pecking order now needed to be established. That is one of the areas in which we can meet the story of Ruth today.
America has generally been viewed by American’s as a country built on Christian values -- a country that serves God and enjoys God’s protection. Like the people who returned from the Exile, many American Christians feel a sense of disconnect between the historical faith of our country and our present reality. Threats, both to our nation and to our faith, seem to be everywhere and to be coming both from within and outside of church and country. The idea that it is sin that has gotten us into this situation and that it will be prayer that saves us seems as relevant today as it was to those who struggled under the leadership of the Judges.
Ruth gives us an example of reconciliation through community. Please keep in mind that I am speaking of community not as a synonym for country, but in the sense of the church. The suggestions below should not be legislated or mandated. Instead, they should be an outgrowth of the abundance that we have been given by God. Sakenfeld breaks the biblical version of human community into four parts. First of all, no one is to be left destitute. The community is responsible for feeding the hungry. While gleaning did not provide for all the needs of the poor, it did emphasize that everything belongs to God, not individual human beings. Second, the community also needs to be responsible for the mental and emotional health of its members. Loneliness and despair must not be ignored. Recognizing that such emotions are part of the broken human condition, the community of faith is called into acts of healing. Of course, that isn’t limited to finding husbands for the widowed and fathers for the orphans! Third, Children are valued, and so are old people; both are to be held tight and cared for. Finally, the marginalized outsider may appropriately be “pushy” towards being included, and those in the center are called to move toward the margins and the marginalized.
The book of Ruth moves from famine and death at the beginning to harvest and finally birth at the end. God does not act directly in the book. Rather, we see God acting indirectly through the interactions between people and in the many blessings that are scattered throughout the book. It just might be that our role as church is to both facilitate and point out those blessings. AMEN
The defining events of the Old Testament are the Exodus from Egypt to the promised land and the Babylonian Exile: a time when Judah was conquered and the people were forced to live in foreign countries. While the people often complained that God wasn’t taking good enough care of them, they were relatively secure in the belief that they were God’s chosen people up until the Babylonian Exile. Although we can’t be sure, Ruth was probably written in the time when people had returned from the Babylonian exile. It is set between the time of the Judges, a time when “there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes” and the beginning of the unification of Israel under King David.
According to the Lutheran Study Bible, “Judges was written for people in exile in Babylon to show the exiles, ‘You are here because of your sins. But time after time, God heard the prayers of your ancestors when they were in trouble and helped them by sending deliverers. Now it is time for you to pray to God for help! Let’s hope that in God’s amazing grace, God will help once again!’” The return from exile raised new problems for the people of Israel. Some people had remained in Judah and continued to worship God, some had remained faithful in exile while others had adopted foreign customs and worshiped foreign gods -- where there had once been at least the illusion of uniformity, a pecking order now needed to be established. That is one of the areas in which we can meet the story of Ruth today.
America has generally been viewed by American’s as a country built on Christian values -- a country that serves God and enjoys God’s protection. Like the people who returned from the Exile, many American Christians feel a sense of disconnect between the historical faith of our country and our present reality. Threats, both to our nation and to our faith, seem to be everywhere and to be coming both from within and outside of church and country. The idea that it is sin that has gotten us into this situation and that it will be prayer that saves us seems as relevant today as it was to those who struggled under the leadership of the Judges.
Ruth gives us an example of reconciliation through community. Please keep in mind that I am speaking of community not as a synonym for country, but in the sense of the church. The suggestions below should not be legislated or mandated. Instead, they should be an outgrowth of the abundance that we have been given by God. Sakenfeld breaks the biblical version of human community into four parts. First of all, no one is to be left destitute. The community is responsible for feeding the hungry. While gleaning did not provide for all the needs of the poor, it did emphasize that everything belongs to God, not individual human beings. Second, the community also needs to be responsible for the mental and emotional health of its members. Loneliness and despair must not be ignored. Recognizing that such emotions are part of the broken human condition, the community of faith is called into acts of healing. Of course, that isn’t limited to finding husbands for the widowed and fathers for the orphans! Third, Children are valued, and so are old people; both are to be held tight and cared for. Finally, the marginalized outsider may appropriately be “pushy” towards being included, and those in the center are called to move toward the margins and the marginalized.
The book of Ruth moves from famine and death at the beginning to harvest and finally birth at the end. God does not act directly in the book. Rather, we see God acting indirectly through the interactions between people and in the many blessings that are scattered throughout the book. It just might be that our role as church is to both facilitate and point out those blessings. AMEN
Pentecost 6, Wednesday, June 30th, 2021
Sometimes translation takes the poetry out of scripture. While impudent and stubborn are perfectly fine words, they don’t work together like hard-headed and hard-hearted, stiff-necked and stiff-hearted, or brazen of face and tough-hearted. It is clear that Ezekiel is going to be slinging seed onto rocky soil, and that Jesus does the same. Throughout Mark’s gospel crowds gather around Jesus, but instead of attempting to convert the masses, Jesus attends to the needs of the few. In the second lesson, Paul is dealing with a similar situation, as a group of “super prophets” is leading the members of the church in Corinth astray.
Rejection is woven into all of our readings this evening, and the gospel sets it alongside repentance. Repentance involves rejection: part of professing our faith involves renouncing the devil, and all the powers of the world, forces, and ways of sin that draw us from God. Turning toward one thing means turning away from other things. Even though we are both saints and sinners, faith is not meant to be a both/and, comfortable proposition. God’s warning to Ezekiel is that the people are unlikely to listen to what challenges their entrenched beliefs, makes them uncomfortable, casts them in an unflattering light -- they are stiff-necked. Going back to the metaphor of planting, we know why seed would be scattered even on poor soil. Think about what happens when you have a skip with your drill or planter or if you leave a spot in your garden empty; not only does something grow, but what grows is usually the thickest and hardiest “crop” in the whole field or garden.
How do these texts speak to us tonight? We could begin with the fact that we are a bit short of our full complement of 435 members. It seems accurate that declining membership and participation have been a thorn in the flesh of the church for some time now. When Paul asked three times to have the thorn (which can also be translated as spike!) from his flesh, God replied, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” Whether or not we believe that God sends us challenges, we can agree that God’s power can sustain us through difficulty and that being forced to struggle together through experiences we cannot, and would not, construct or choose can help us to grow as people, families and organizations.
The connection between rejection and repentance is reinforced as it seems that Jesus intentionally exposes the twelve to His rejection in Nazareth before sending them on their missions. He also has them strip away all of the extras and tells them to shake the dust of the places where they are not welcomed from their feet. As we look at our mission as a church, we can take comfort in the fact that we are not responsible for the salvation of others. We are also not called to be perfect. In the sense that Paul uses it, it means mature. Dealing with his own struggles and learning how God has worked through them has allowed Paul to become more skilled at meeting others at their point of need. Considering the idea that we are called to use our challenges and weaknesses in our mission as congregations, how should we begin? We might first ask what authority we have been given. Jesus often faced that question himself. How do we answer it? We have the Word of God, but that doesn’t belong to us. The unique thing that we have is our personal experiences with God.
Before you spend too much time trying to think of encounters with God that are powerful enough to inspire others, take a breath and relax. The ability to recognize God in the ordinary is much more sustainable and impressive. The meat and potatoes of Jesus’ own ministry was relationship building. Liv Andrews says that, “In Mark’s Jesus, and most profoundly in the cross, the flow of healing is outward. Jesus makes other things clean, whole, alive, restored. The cross restores all creation! We who are joined in Jesus are brought into this flow, the outpouring of baptismal dignity and worth into the world. God’s grace is sufficient (and then some).” Think about the interaction between Christ and the two criminals in Luke’s account of the crucifixion. The crowd and the soldiers have been mocking Jesus by telling him that if he is truly the Messiah he should save himself. One of the criminals joins in the heckling, but the other says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” It is Jesus' reply, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” that proves that Jesus is truly the Messiah. Whether it is through struggles or divine inspiration, we, the church, need to turn from concern for our individual congregations and personal salvation outward to the world God loves. AMEN
Sometimes translation takes the poetry out of scripture. While impudent and stubborn are perfectly fine words, they don’t work together like hard-headed and hard-hearted, stiff-necked and stiff-hearted, or brazen of face and tough-hearted. It is clear that Ezekiel is going to be slinging seed onto rocky soil, and that Jesus does the same. Throughout Mark’s gospel crowds gather around Jesus, but instead of attempting to convert the masses, Jesus attends to the needs of the few. In the second lesson, Paul is dealing with a similar situation, as a group of “super prophets” is leading the members of the church in Corinth astray.
Rejection is woven into all of our readings this evening, and the gospel sets it alongside repentance. Repentance involves rejection: part of professing our faith involves renouncing the devil, and all the powers of the world, forces, and ways of sin that draw us from God. Turning toward one thing means turning away from other things. Even though we are both saints and sinners, faith is not meant to be a both/and, comfortable proposition. God’s warning to Ezekiel is that the people are unlikely to listen to what challenges their entrenched beliefs, makes them uncomfortable, casts them in an unflattering light -- they are stiff-necked. Going back to the metaphor of planting, we know why seed would be scattered even on poor soil. Think about what happens when you have a skip with your drill or planter or if you leave a spot in your garden empty; not only does something grow, but what grows is usually the thickest and hardiest “crop” in the whole field or garden.
How do these texts speak to us tonight? We could begin with the fact that we are a bit short of our full complement of 435 members. It seems accurate that declining membership and participation have been a thorn in the flesh of the church for some time now. When Paul asked three times to have the thorn (which can also be translated as spike!) from his flesh, God replied, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” Whether or not we believe that God sends us challenges, we can agree that God’s power can sustain us through difficulty and that being forced to struggle together through experiences we cannot, and would not, construct or choose can help us to grow as people, families and organizations.
The connection between rejection and repentance is reinforced as it seems that Jesus intentionally exposes the twelve to His rejection in Nazareth before sending them on their missions. He also has them strip away all of the extras and tells them to shake the dust of the places where they are not welcomed from their feet. As we look at our mission as a church, we can take comfort in the fact that we are not responsible for the salvation of others. We are also not called to be perfect. In the sense that Paul uses it, it means mature. Dealing with his own struggles and learning how God has worked through them has allowed Paul to become more skilled at meeting others at their point of need. Considering the idea that we are called to use our challenges and weaknesses in our mission as congregations, how should we begin? We might first ask what authority we have been given. Jesus often faced that question himself. How do we answer it? We have the Word of God, but that doesn’t belong to us. The unique thing that we have is our personal experiences with God.
Before you spend too much time trying to think of encounters with God that are powerful enough to inspire others, take a breath and relax. The ability to recognize God in the ordinary is much more sustainable and impressive. The meat and potatoes of Jesus’ own ministry was relationship building. Liv Andrews says that, “In Mark’s Jesus, and most profoundly in the cross, the flow of healing is outward. Jesus makes other things clean, whole, alive, restored. The cross restores all creation! We who are joined in Jesus are brought into this flow, the outpouring of baptismal dignity and worth into the world. God’s grace is sufficient (and then some).” Think about the interaction between Christ and the two criminals in Luke’s account of the crucifixion. The crowd and the soldiers have been mocking Jesus by telling him that if he is truly the Messiah he should save himself. One of the criminals joins in the heckling, but the other says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” It is Jesus' reply, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” that proves that Jesus is truly the Messiah. Whether it is through struggles or divine inspiration, we, the church, need to turn from concern for our individual congregations and personal salvation outward to the world God loves. AMEN
Ruth Chapter 3: June 27
One of the things that I wish that I had learned earlier in my teaching career is that you can’t explain a story or a poem to a group of people; the main thing that is accomplished in the attempt is that you destroy the poem or story. The best that you can do is to share your understanding and model how you got there. Even the author or teller relinquishes control over a story once it is shared. If the story comes from a time, place, or culture that the listener isn’t familiar with, it is up to them to decide whether or not to dig into the background. The hope for a storyteller is that the reader/listener is “hooked” by the story -- drawn to it in a way that causes them to invest themselves in it for a time. I hope that Ruth has a hook for you. If it doesn’t, I hope that you are able to use the next ten minutes or so in a productive and/or enjoyable way while I talk about it some more.
The hook for me in this story is Naomi. When we meet her, I imagine that she is questioning the choice to leave home in the first place, even if she had no choice at the time (either because the choice had belonged only to her husband in their society or because staying meant starving, which is really no choice at all). She must wonder whether the deaths of her husband and son were the result of that choice and if God had either abandoned her or was punishing her. I feel for her as she tries to decide what to do about her daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah. Is she obligated to help them, or are they obligated to help her? I can imagine the combination of guilt and shame that she has to work through: she has nothing left to give them, and caring for her may well cost them their chance to care for themselves. Most of all, I can understand giving up -- feeling empty and powerless. Whether we have given in to it or not, I am sure that we have all experienced moments of hopelessness and despair.
Things are so bad that Ruth has to take the initiative to glean in order to support the two of them. From that point, Ruth seems to go into a holding pattern while something is rekindled in Naomi. Instead of focusing on the fact that when harvest ended they would be right back where they started, she allowed herself to hope. Those of us who have been hurt (which I assume is everyone) know that despair can be more comfortable and is certainly less risky than hope. This hope leads her to the plan that begins chapter three, a plan that seems risky, complicated, and a bit manipulative. It is surprising that Ruth not only agrees to this plan, especially since she refused the much simpler plan of going home to find a husband, but also goes beyond the plan.
While it is clear that Ruth is to make herself available to Boaz, it is less clear for what she is to make herself available. This sounds crude, but if Boaz had been simply interested in sex, his status and hers ensured that he could have taken what he wanted at any time without any consequences or obligation to him. I believe that Naomi knew that Boaz was an honorable man, just as Boaz knew that Ruth was a woman of honor. The unanticipated action that Ruth took was to propose to Boaz instead of meekly waiting for him to get around to it. It doesn’t seem like Boaz was a man of action in the romance department, and I don't believe that Ruth would have taken action without Naomi’s encouragement. That is not to say that this was innocent flirtation. It was certainly a daring plan that could have ended badly in a number of ways.
We are left with Boaz promising to do the right thing by Ruth not out of a sense of obligation, but out of some deeper impulse. He not only refuses to take advantage of Ruth, he also makes sure that she leaves before her reputation can be marred. Finally, if the nearer kinsman is willing to care for Ruth and Naomi, he is willing to abide by that.
One of the things that I wish that I had learned earlier in my teaching career is that you can’t explain a story or a poem to a group of people; the main thing that is accomplished in the attempt is that you destroy the poem or story. The best that you can do is to share your understanding and model how you got there. Even the author or teller relinquishes control over a story once it is shared. If the story comes from a time, place, or culture that the listener isn’t familiar with, it is up to them to decide whether or not to dig into the background. The hope for a storyteller is that the reader/listener is “hooked” by the story -- drawn to it in a way that causes them to invest themselves in it for a time. I hope that Ruth has a hook for you. If it doesn’t, I hope that you are able to use the next ten minutes or so in a productive and/or enjoyable way while I talk about it some more.
The hook for me in this story is Naomi. When we meet her, I imagine that she is questioning the choice to leave home in the first place, even if she had no choice at the time (either because the choice had belonged only to her husband in their society or because staying meant starving, which is really no choice at all). She must wonder whether the deaths of her husband and son were the result of that choice and if God had either abandoned her or was punishing her. I feel for her as she tries to decide what to do about her daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah. Is she obligated to help them, or are they obligated to help her? I can imagine the combination of guilt and shame that she has to work through: she has nothing left to give them, and caring for her may well cost them their chance to care for themselves. Most of all, I can understand giving up -- feeling empty and powerless. Whether we have given in to it or not, I am sure that we have all experienced moments of hopelessness and despair.
Things are so bad that Ruth has to take the initiative to glean in order to support the two of them. From that point, Ruth seems to go into a holding pattern while something is rekindled in Naomi. Instead of focusing on the fact that when harvest ended they would be right back where they started, she allowed herself to hope. Those of us who have been hurt (which I assume is everyone) know that despair can be more comfortable and is certainly less risky than hope. This hope leads her to the plan that begins chapter three, a plan that seems risky, complicated, and a bit manipulative. It is surprising that Ruth not only agrees to this plan, especially since she refused the much simpler plan of going home to find a husband, but also goes beyond the plan.
While it is clear that Ruth is to make herself available to Boaz, it is less clear for what she is to make herself available. This sounds crude, but if Boaz had been simply interested in sex, his status and hers ensured that he could have taken what he wanted at any time without any consequences or obligation to him. I believe that Naomi knew that Boaz was an honorable man, just as Boaz knew that Ruth was a woman of honor. The unanticipated action that Ruth took was to propose to Boaz instead of meekly waiting for him to get around to it. It doesn’t seem like Boaz was a man of action in the romance department, and I don't believe that Ruth would have taken action without Naomi’s encouragement. That is not to say that this was innocent flirtation. It was certainly a daring plan that could have ended badly in a number of ways.
We are left with Boaz promising to do the right thing by Ruth not out of a sense of obligation, but out of some deeper impulse. He not only refuses to take advantage of Ruth, he also makes sure that she leaves before her reputation can be marred. Finally, if the nearer kinsman is willing to care for Ruth and Naomi, he is willing to abide by that.
Pentecost 3, June 13, 2021
The story of Ruth began with Naomi, her husband and her two sons leaving Judah for Moab because of a famine. In the ten years that they lived there, all of the men in the family died, leaving Naomi with two daughters-in-law and no way to care for herself or them. When Naomi heard that the famine had ended, she decided to return to Bethlehem. She told Orpah and Ruth, her daughters-in-law, to go back to their homes and hope to find husbands because she had nothing to offer them and they needn’t feel responsible for her. Orpah agreed, but Ruth vowed to stay by Ruth’s side no matter what. Chapter one ended with the news that the barley harvest was just getting underway. Coincidentally (or maybe not), the harvest is tied to Passover. The counting of sheaves happens on the second day of Passover; seven weeks later, the Feast of Weeks is celebrated.
Chapter one ended with a hint of hope. Chapter two begins with some serious foreshadowing: “Now Naomi had a kinsman on her husband’s side, a prominent rich man, of the family of Elimelech, whose name was Boaz.” Having Boaz introduced before we actually meet him gives us a chance to access our preconceptions: will Boaz be the rich uncle who bails them out, a sugar daddy, or will he look down on the widows and protect his wealth and status? The answer is revealed as the series of “coincidences” continues when Ruth decides to go gleaning. Jewish law as found in Leviticus required landowners to leave some crop in the corners and on the edges of their fields so that poor and marginalized people could harvest it. There were also rules about olive trees and vineyards regulating what could be harvested and what should be left. This wasn’t a matter of the landowners giving produce to the less fortunate as much as a way of pointing out that it was not theirs to give in the first place, but God’s. It certainly did not provide enough food to support anyone completely.
Back to the coincidences -- Ruth happens to come to the part of the field owned by Boaz just as he arrives with the greeting, “The Lord be with you.” Also, just in case we forgot, the narrator reminds us that Boaz is from the house of Elimelech. At first blush, Boaz’s question, “To whom does this young woman belong?”seems disrespectful because it implies ownership. I would guess, though, that if someone you didn’t recognize showed up here at church, you would ask a version of the same question, assuming that they were either here to visit someone or because they had some sort of history with the church. Although I doubt that it was the author’s intent, we can also frame Boaz’s question as one of faith, as in “What god does she worship?” The chief reaper has already determined how he will categorize her, referring to her as the Moabite from Moab. He does seem impressed with her work ethic, which is another place that we might choose to add our own interpretation. For all we know, he might be sizing her up as one would a draft animal.
Whatever the case may be, Boaz seizes on the middle of the reaper’s description -- that Ruth is the woman who accompanied Naomi. He immediately brings her into the community by offering her protection, instruction, and access to the water that his servants have drawn. A bit later, including her in the meal reinforces that she has a place in the community. It bothers me that I, along with most commentators, assume that Ruth must have been beautiful to have instantly captured Boaz’s attention. Some commentators also speculate that there must have been something about Boaz that made him unattractive, or else he would have already been married. Reducing this story to a version of “Beauty and the Beast” diminishes it -- especially the role of God.
Their first conversation ends with Boaz offering a blessing: “May the Lord reward you for your deeds, and may you have a full reward from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge!” and Ruth replying: “May I continue to find favor in your sight, my lord, for you have comforted me and spoken kindly to your servant, even though I am not one of your servants.” The blessing is especially striking because Boaz is not only wishing her well, he is taking action to make it happen while placing credit where it belongs -- with God. Ruth’s response shows that she understands the gulf across which Boaz is reaching out to her, much like how God stoops to love us.
I know that I have gone on longer than usual, so I will try to hurry through the end of this section. Ruth returns to Naomi with about half a bushel of barley, which gives Naomi her first reason to hope. When Naomi finds out that it is Boaz who has been so generous, she doubles up on her blessings. We don’t know how familiar Ruth was with the rules for transferring property among male relatives, and we don’t know what they were either, but Naomi certainly doesn’t give Ruth any reason to get her hopes up beyond the opportunity to glean in Boaz’s fields for the next several weeks. The end of the chapter, “So she stayed close to the young women of Boaz, gleaning until the end of the barley and wheat harvests; and she lived with her mother-in-law.” gives us a bit of a break while alerting us that the climax of the story is near.
The story of Ruth began with Naomi, her husband and her two sons leaving Judah for Moab because of a famine. In the ten years that they lived there, all of the men in the family died, leaving Naomi with two daughters-in-law and no way to care for herself or them. When Naomi heard that the famine had ended, she decided to return to Bethlehem. She told Orpah and Ruth, her daughters-in-law, to go back to their homes and hope to find husbands because she had nothing to offer them and they needn’t feel responsible for her. Orpah agreed, but Ruth vowed to stay by Ruth’s side no matter what. Chapter one ended with the news that the barley harvest was just getting underway. Coincidentally (or maybe not), the harvest is tied to Passover. The counting of sheaves happens on the second day of Passover; seven weeks later, the Feast of Weeks is celebrated.
Chapter one ended with a hint of hope. Chapter two begins with some serious foreshadowing: “Now Naomi had a kinsman on her husband’s side, a prominent rich man, of the family of Elimelech, whose name was Boaz.” Having Boaz introduced before we actually meet him gives us a chance to access our preconceptions: will Boaz be the rich uncle who bails them out, a sugar daddy, or will he look down on the widows and protect his wealth and status? The answer is revealed as the series of “coincidences” continues when Ruth decides to go gleaning. Jewish law as found in Leviticus required landowners to leave some crop in the corners and on the edges of their fields so that poor and marginalized people could harvest it. There were also rules about olive trees and vineyards regulating what could be harvested and what should be left. This wasn’t a matter of the landowners giving produce to the less fortunate as much as a way of pointing out that it was not theirs to give in the first place, but God’s. It certainly did not provide enough food to support anyone completely.
Back to the coincidences -- Ruth happens to come to the part of the field owned by Boaz just as he arrives with the greeting, “The Lord be with you.” Also, just in case we forgot, the narrator reminds us that Boaz is from the house of Elimelech. At first blush, Boaz’s question, “To whom does this young woman belong?”seems disrespectful because it implies ownership. I would guess, though, that if someone you didn’t recognize showed up here at church, you would ask a version of the same question, assuming that they were either here to visit someone or because they had some sort of history with the church. Although I doubt that it was the author’s intent, we can also frame Boaz’s question as one of faith, as in “What god does she worship?” The chief reaper has already determined how he will categorize her, referring to her as the Moabite from Moab. He does seem impressed with her work ethic, which is another place that we might choose to add our own interpretation. For all we know, he might be sizing her up as one would a draft animal.
Whatever the case may be, Boaz seizes on the middle of the reaper’s description -- that Ruth is the woman who accompanied Naomi. He immediately brings her into the community by offering her protection, instruction, and access to the water that his servants have drawn. A bit later, including her in the meal reinforces that she has a place in the community. It bothers me that I, along with most commentators, assume that Ruth must have been beautiful to have instantly captured Boaz’s attention. Some commentators also speculate that there must have been something about Boaz that made him unattractive, or else he would have already been married. Reducing this story to a version of “Beauty and the Beast” diminishes it -- especially the role of God.
Their first conversation ends with Boaz offering a blessing: “May the Lord reward you for your deeds, and may you have a full reward from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge!” and Ruth replying: “May I continue to find favor in your sight, my lord, for you have comforted me and spoken kindly to your servant, even though I am not one of your servants.” The blessing is especially striking because Boaz is not only wishing her well, he is taking action to make it happen while placing credit where it belongs -- with God. Ruth’s response shows that she understands the gulf across which Boaz is reaching out to her, much like how God stoops to love us.
I know that I have gone on longer than usual, so I will try to hurry through the end of this section. Ruth returns to Naomi with about half a bushel of barley, which gives Naomi her first reason to hope. When Naomi finds out that it is Boaz who has been so generous, she doubles up on her blessings. We don’t know how familiar Ruth was with the rules for transferring property among male relatives, and we don’t know what they were either, but Naomi certainly doesn’t give Ruth any reason to get her hopes up beyond the opportunity to glean in Boaz’s fields for the next several weeks. The end of the chapter, “So she stayed close to the young women of Boaz, gleaning until the end of the barley and wheat harvests; and she lived with her mother-in-law.” gives us a bit of a break while alerting us that the climax of the story is near.
Ruth Chapter One: June 6, 2021
We are going to kick off this summer by reading through the book of Ruth. Although it is called Ruth, it is the story of Naomi, a woman who left Bethlehem for Moab with her husband and two sons because of a famine. The Moabites were similar to the Samaritans and the Philistines in the eyes of the Jews, so this was probably a surprising move. In the time that they lived in Moab (probably ten years), Naomi’s husband died, the sons married Moabite women, and then they died as well before either had fathered a child.
Ruth is set in the time of the Judges -- a time of chaos and disobedience in Israel, summarized by the final verse of Judges: “In those days there was no king in Israel, all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” In First Samuel, the book that follows Ruth, the people clamor for a king and end up with Saul, who eventually gives way to David, who is one of Jesus’ ancestors. If we take the view that all of scripture points to Jesus, we can say that Judges shows the inadequacy of human leadership and humans in general, Samuel shows God keeping God’s promises in the selection of David as king, and Ruth shows how God’s faithfulness, blessings, and love can be incarnated in human beings, even in times of transition.
Our story begins when Naomi hears that “the Lord (has) considered his people and given them food.” There is no reason for her to stay in Moab, so she decides to go home. We don’t know if Naomi’s daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth, intend to return to Judah with her (and I don’t guess that it is possible to return to a place you have never been), or if they only planned to accompany her part of the way. It doesn’t seem like they have gone very far when Naomi tells them that they should go back to their mothers’ houses instead of staying with her because she has nothing to offer them, they have no obligation to her, and they may be able to remarry if they go home. On the surface, this seems like a choice between two fairly clear options, but we all know from experience that life choices are seldom as uncomplicated as they appear from the outside. In this case, even the experts know little about the customs of arranging marriages, much less second marriages, in either Moab or Judah. On top of that, both of these women have already married outside of their faith, we don’t know how old they are, and we don’t know why or for how long they were in their childless marriages. In light of all of that, and keeping in mind what these women have been through, all three are simply trying to make the best of a disastrous situation. We need to keep that in mind before we condemn Orpah or praise Ruth for their decisions.
Things are no clearer after Ruth’s beautiful speech committing herself completely to Naomi: “When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.” Whether Naomi views Ruth as a blessing or as a reminder of her failures is left to us to speculate on. We do see that Naomi doesn’t even mention Ruth when she goes through the ways in which God has emptied her. Here again we see that Naomi has given up. There is no call for help, just a list of the ways in which she has been mistreated by God.
Faithfulness and relationships between people and God and between one another are at the heart of the story of Naomi. In the background is the struggle of the people to remain faithful to God -- to live into God’s covenant. Although Naomi feels that God has dealt harshly with her, when she feels that she can no longer offer anything to her daughters-in-law, she commends them to God’s care. The fact that she is heartbroken doesn’t necessarily mean that she has lost her faith. All that we know for sure is that she has been deeply wounded. We end chapter one with an indication that things are about to change for the better: “They came to Bethlehem at the beginning of the barley harvest.”
We are going to kick off this summer by reading through the book of Ruth. Although it is called Ruth, it is the story of Naomi, a woman who left Bethlehem for Moab with her husband and two sons because of a famine. The Moabites were similar to the Samaritans and the Philistines in the eyes of the Jews, so this was probably a surprising move. In the time that they lived in Moab (probably ten years), Naomi’s husband died, the sons married Moabite women, and then they died as well before either had fathered a child.
Ruth is set in the time of the Judges -- a time of chaos and disobedience in Israel, summarized by the final verse of Judges: “In those days there was no king in Israel, all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” In First Samuel, the book that follows Ruth, the people clamor for a king and end up with Saul, who eventually gives way to David, who is one of Jesus’ ancestors. If we take the view that all of scripture points to Jesus, we can say that Judges shows the inadequacy of human leadership and humans in general, Samuel shows God keeping God’s promises in the selection of David as king, and Ruth shows how God’s faithfulness, blessings, and love can be incarnated in human beings, even in times of transition.
Our story begins when Naomi hears that “the Lord (has) considered his people and given them food.” There is no reason for her to stay in Moab, so she decides to go home. We don’t know if Naomi’s daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth, intend to return to Judah with her (and I don’t guess that it is possible to return to a place you have never been), or if they only planned to accompany her part of the way. It doesn’t seem like they have gone very far when Naomi tells them that they should go back to their mothers’ houses instead of staying with her because she has nothing to offer them, they have no obligation to her, and they may be able to remarry if they go home. On the surface, this seems like a choice between two fairly clear options, but we all know from experience that life choices are seldom as uncomplicated as they appear from the outside. In this case, even the experts know little about the customs of arranging marriages, much less second marriages, in either Moab or Judah. On top of that, both of these women have already married outside of their faith, we don’t know how old they are, and we don’t know why or for how long they were in their childless marriages. In light of all of that, and keeping in mind what these women have been through, all three are simply trying to make the best of a disastrous situation. We need to keep that in mind before we condemn Orpah or praise Ruth for their decisions.
Things are no clearer after Ruth’s beautiful speech committing herself completely to Naomi: “When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.” Whether Naomi views Ruth as a blessing or as a reminder of her failures is left to us to speculate on. We do see that Naomi doesn’t even mention Ruth when she goes through the ways in which God has emptied her. Here again we see that Naomi has given up. There is no call for help, just a list of the ways in which she has been mistreated by God.
Faithfulness and relationships between people and God and between one another are at the heart of the story of Naomi. In the background is the struggle of the people to remain faithful to God -- to live into God’s covenant. Although Naomi feels that God has dealt harshly with her, when she feels that she can no longer offer anything to her daughters-in-law, she commends them to God’s care. The fact that she is heartbroken doesn’t necessarily mean that she has lost her faith. All that we know for sure is that she has been deeply wounded. We end chapter one with an indication that things are about to change for the better: “They came to Bethlehem at the beginning of the barley harvest.”
Joint Worship: May 26, 2021
There are a couple of traps in today’s gospel lesson: The first is the familiarity of John 3:16. The second is Nicodemus. It is very easy to go down the rabbit hole of wondering why Nicodemus chose to visit Jesus at night, whether or not he was sincere about wanting to learn more about Jesus, and if he was really so dense that he believed that Jesus was telling him that he literally needed to be born again. If we go that route, we might focus on why Nicodemus was unable to hear Jesus’ message -- as a Pharisee, he read scripture too legalistically; he entered the conversation not to hear what Jesus had to say, but to show how smart he was; he thought that faith was a matter of the head and not the heart -- of thinking instead of doing… While all of those things may be true, figuring out what Nicodemus’s problems were doesn’t bring us any closer to understanding Jesus’ message. And that message is a doozy!
“Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” (John 3:5-8)
No, Jesus is not saying that we literally need to re-enter the womb, but what he is saying might be even harder to believe. Entering the kingdom is not a matter of becoming a better person, it involves beginning life all over again just as we came into the world. When Jesus told the rich, young man, "You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." we could at least rationalize that money was the problem. This text leaves us no wiggle room: We are all born of the flesh, which means that we are sinful and alienated from God. Unless we are born of the Spirit, we are condemned. It is one thing to say those words, or even to nod in agreement as they are said, but how many people do you know who have actually chosen a life of complete devotion to God? If these are the terms, I suspect that there will be a lot more elbow room in heaven than in hell.
Remember that Jesus knew that Nicodemus wouldn’t understand what he was saying, just as he knew that the world would reject and crucify him. The only hope for humanity rests in seeing Jesus raised up, both on the cross and into heaven, and allowing the Spirit to lead them to belief. Without the Spirit, there can be no understanding. The problem is that we want to do it ourselves. Although we might claim to intellectually accept Isaiah 55:8-9: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”, we still insist on seeing God as a better version of ourselves.
When I went out to do chores this morning, I found a lamb with her head stuck in the fence. She had reached through to drink water from a bucket (although there was plenty of water on her side of the fence). When she tried to back out, the handle of the bucket trapped her head. All that she knew to do was to struggle and pull backward, which made matters worse. When I got to her, she was exhausted and bloated. Even so, she fought me as I removed her head from the fence. When I got back to her with a stomach tube, she ran around the feeder a few times before I caught her. When I let her go again, she ran away. I am under no illusion that she is grateful that I saved her life or that she has learned a lesson of any kind. In relation to God, I am that sheep. When I say that I am captive to sin and cannot free myself, it means that I am going to continue to get my head stuck in fences, whether I am reaching for greener grass or running from a dog, and I am completely dependent on God to show up in time to free me. Until I let go of my self-righteousness, I do not really believe. AMEN
There are a couple of traps in today’s gospel lesson: The first is the familiarity of John 3:16. The second is Nicodemus. It is very easy to go down the rabbit hole of wondering why Nicodemus chose to visit Jesus at night, whether or not he was sincere about wanting to learn more about Jesus, and if he was really so dense that he believed that Jesus was telling him that he literally needed to be born again. If we go that route, we might focus on why Nicodemus was unable to hear Jesus’ message -- as a Pharisee, he read scripture too legalistically; he entered the conversation not to hear what Jesus had to say, but to show how smart he was; he thought that faith was a matter of the head and not the heart -- of thinking instead of doing… While all of those things may be true, figuring out what Nicodemus’s problems were doesn’t bring us any closer to understanding Jesus’ message. And that message is a doozy!
“Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” (John 3:5-8)
No, Jesus is not saying that we literally need to re-enter the womb, but what he is saying might be even harder to believe. Entering the kingdom is not a matter of becoming a better person, it involves beginning life all over again just as we came into the world. When Jesus told the rich, young man, "You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." we could at least rationalize that money was the problem. This text leaves us no wiggle room: We are all born of the flesh, which means that we are sinful and alienated from God. Unless we are born of the Spirit, we are condemned. It is one thing to say those words, or even to nod in agreement as they are said, but how many people do you know who have actually chosen a life of complete devotion to God? If these are the terms, I suspect that there will be a lot more elbow room in heaven than in hell.
Remember that Jesus knew that Nicodemus wouldn’t understand what he was saying, just as he knew that the world would reject and crucify him. The only hope for humanity rests in seeing Jesus raised up, both on the cross and into heaven, and allowing the Spirit to lead them to belief. Without the Spirit, there can be no understanding. The problem is that we want to do it ourselves. Although we might claim to intellectually accept Isaiah 55:8-9: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”, we still insist on seeing God as a better version of ourselves.
When I went out to do chores this morning, I found a lamb with her head stuck in the fence. She had reached through to drink water from a bucket (although there was plenty of water on her side of the fence). When she tried to back out, the handle of the bucket trapped her head. All that she knew to do was to struggle and pull backward, which made matters worse. When I got to her, she was exhausted and bloated. Even so, she fought me as I removed her head from the fence. When I got back to her with a stomach tube, she ran around the feeder a few times before I caught her. When I let her go again, she ran away. I am under no illusion that she is grateful that I saved her life or that she has learned a lesson of any kind. In relation to God, I am that sheep. When I say that I am captive to sin and cannot free myself, it means that I am going to continue to get my head stuck in fences, whether I am reaching for greener grass or running from a dog, and I am completely dependent on God to show up in time to free me. Until I let go of my self-righteousness, I do not really believe. AMEN
Easter 7: May 16, 2021
John 17:6-19 is the end of the section of John called “the farewell discourse.” It has been called “the High Priestly Prayer,” and has been viewed by some as John’s equivalent to the Lord’s Prayer. Whatever it is, it is dense, tangled, and difficult to understand. Below is a summary that I put together:
-- The disciples came from the world. They belonged to God, and God gave them to Jesus.
-- They have learned the truth (that God sent Jesus and that everything Jesus has is from God), kept God’s word, and received God’s word.
-- This has separated them from the world. Jesus asks on their behalf, not on behalf of the world.
-- Although the disciples were given to Jesus by God, they belong as much to God as they do to Jesus.
-- Jesus is no longer in the world (although he is still alive in his human form), he is on his way to God.
-- The disciples are still in the world (although they have been separated from the world)
-- Jesus is asking God to protect the disciples in God’s name, which he has given Jesus, so that the disciples can be one just as God and Jesus are one.
-- While Jesus was in the world, he protected the disciples. He only lost one, and that was to fulfill the scripture.
-- Jesus is speaking in the world, although he just said that he is no longer in the world.
-- Jesus says the he has protected them and lost only the one who was destined to be lost, but also that the world hates them because he has given them the word, which is the truth (also, he is the word made flesh)
--the world hates them because they no longer belong to the world, just as he does not belong to the world
-- Jesus is not asking for them to be taken out of the world, just that they be protected from the evil one
-- Jesus repeats that they do not belong to the world just as he does not belong to the world
--They need to be sanctified in the word/truth (side note: Jesus is the word made flesh)
-- Jesus is sending the disciples into the world just as God sent him into the world
-- Jesus sanctifies himself for their sake, so that they too may be sanctified in truth
At church, I will try to make the above information more clear through an object lesson.
It seems to me that Jesus is wrestling with the relationship between himself, God, the disciples, and the world. Throughout his Gospel, John tells us that Jesus came into the world as the word made flesh, that he was the light of the world, and that he was rejected by the world by those who turned away from the light and preferred the darkness (although the darkness did not overcome the light). The disciples were chosen from the world, are in the world, are hated by the world, and are not of the world. Although Jesus prays that they be protected by the evil one, he does not ask that they be taken out of the world. In fact, just as the Father sent Jesus into the world, Jesus sends the disciples into the world to continue his mission.
One way of looking at it is that if we, like the disciples, choose to follow Jesus, we will enter into the same relationship with God that Jesus has -- we will become one in the name of the Father just as Jesus and the Father are one. I suppose it makes sense then to believe that we too will suffer and die at the hands of “the world” before being lifted up out of the world like Jesus was. That, in turn, means that we should be careful not to be “of the world,” even as we live “in the world.”
So what is the role of the evil one? Will there be a point where all of the believers will have been taken out of the world, leaving it to the evil one? If we turn away from God are we turning toward the evil one? When we suffer, is it because God is allowing it to happen, because the evil one is making it happen, neither or both?
Although I am far from understanding the ins and outs of this prayer, the last half of verse 10, “I have been glorified in them,” gives me hope. At the time when Jesus prayed, you could argue that the disciples were as far from understanding as I am. One of them was in the process of betraying him, the rest would soon abandon him at the cross, and he would have to convince them of the resurrection. Their greatest strength was that they kept following Jesus after others gave up and kept listening even when they struggled to understand. I believe I can do that. AMEN
John 17:6-19 is the end of the section of John called “the farewell discourse.” It has been called “the High Priestly Prayer,” and has been viewed by some as John’s equivalent to the Lord’s Prayer. Whatever it is, it is dense, tangled, and difficult to understand. Below is a summary that I put together:
-- The disciples came from the world. They belonged to God, and God gave them to Jesus.
-- They have learned the truth (that God sent Jesus and that everything Jesus has is from God), kept God’s word, and received God’s word.
-- This has separated them from the world. Jesus asks on their behalf, not on behalf of the world.
-- Although the disciples were given to Jesus by God, they belong as much to God as they do to Jesus.
-- Jesus is no longer in the world (although he is still alive in his human form), he is on his way to God.
-- The disciples are still in the world (although they have been separated from the world)
-- Jesus is asking God to protect the disciples in God’s name, which he has given Jesus, so that the disciples can be one just as God and Jesus are one.
-- While Jesus was in the world, he protected the disciples. He only lost one, and that was to fulfill the scripture.
-- Jesus is speaking in the world, although he just said that he is no longer in the world.
-- Jesus says the he has protected them and lost only the one who was destined to be lost, but also that the world hates them because he has given them the word, which is the truth (also, he is the word made flesh)
--the world hates them because they no longer belong to the world, just as he does not belong to the world
-- Jesus is not asking for them to be taken out of the world, just that they be protected from the evil one
-- Jesus repeats that they do not belong to the world just as he does not belong to the world
--They need to be sanctified in the word/truth (side note: Jesus is the word made flesh)
-- Jesus is sending the disciples into the world just as God sent him into the world
-- Jesus sanctifies himself for their sake, so that they too may be sanctified in truth
At church, I will try to make the above information more clear through an object lesson.
It seems to me that Jesus is wrestling with the relationship between himself, God, the disciples, and the world. Throughout his Gospel, John tells us that Jesus came into the world as the word made flesh, that he was the light of the world, and that he was rejected by the world by those who turned away from the light and preferred the darkness (although the darkness did not overcome the light). The disciples were chosen from the world, are in the world, are hated by the world, and are not of the world. Although Jesus prays that they be protected by the evil one, he does not ask that they be taken out of the world. In fact, just as the Father sent Jesus into the world, Jesus sends the disciples into the world to continue his mission.
One way of looking at it is that if we, like the disciples, choose to follow Jesus, we will enter into the same relationship with God that Jesus has -- we will become one in the name of the Father just as Jesus and the Father are one. I suppose it makes sense then to believe that we too will suffer and die at the hands of “the world” before being lifted up out of the world like Jesus was. That, in turn, means that we should be careful not to be “of the world,” even as we live “in the world.”
So what is the role of the evil one? Will there be a point where all of the believers will have been taken out of the world, leaving it to the evil one? If we turn away from God are we turning toward the evil one? When we suffer, is it because God is allowing it to happen, because the evil one is making it happen, neither or both?
Although I am far from understanding the ins and outs of this prayer, the last half of verse 10, “I have been glorified in them,” gives me hope. At the time when Jesus prayed, you could argue that the disciples were as far from understanding as I am. One of them was in the process of betraying him, the rest would soon abandon him at the cross, and he would have to convince them of the resurrection. Their greatest strength was that they kept following Jesus after others gave up and kept listening even when they struggled to understand. I believe I can do that. AMEN
Easter 6: May 9, 2021
This week’s gospel reading is a continuation of the illustration of Jesus as the vine, God as the vine grower, and humanity as the branches from last week. Last week’s reading told us to abide in Jesus just as Jesus abides in us. In verse 7, Jesus said, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Today’s gospel gives us more information on what it means to abide; it also contains two more “If you…” statements: “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.” and, “You are my friends if you do what I command you.”
Between these statements are two “so that” statements: “ I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” and, And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.” Finally, there is a statement with two “buts'' embedded near the middle: “but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit…”. Abiding, keeping Christ’s commandments, bearing fruit and love are all intertwined. Using the patterns I noticed above may help us untangle them, at least partially.
Two of the statements end the same way. Abiding in Christ as Christ abides in us results in having done for us whatever we ask for. We have been appointed by Christ to go and bear lasting fruit so that the Father will give us whatever we ask in Jesus’ name. That means that abiding and going and bearing fruit are referring to the same thing. Don’t get too comfortable in your new understanding, though. Bearing fruit is something that is outside of the control of a branch, and it seems that we are only able to bear fruit because Jesus has appointed us to do so. While the idea of “abiding” might seem like a version of “Keep calm and grow grapes,” abiding must involve not only a choice, but also action.
This action must be framed by the keeping of commandments, and it results in love and joy. Doesn’t that seem like an odd combination? The joy of discipline? Perhaps the “but” statements will help here. Why does Jesus call us his friends? Because he has made known to us everything that he has heard from his father. That ties back to abiding not only in Jesus, but also in his words. Those “if” statements -- those possible conditions for entering into a fruitful relationship with Jesus -- all come together here.
We might argue (and often do) that keeping the commandments is impossible, even if they are all boiled down to loving our neighbors or loving one another as Christ has loved us. In John’s gospel, there are no words of institution at the Last Supper. Instead, the focus is on Jesus’ washing of the disciple’s feet. Similarly, for John, the crucifixion is less about atonement for sins than it is about proving God’s love for humanity. Are we really expected to be willing to lay down our lives for others -- even others who we dislike -- even those who hate us?
Jesus was, and Jesus’ use of himself as the model for love, and for commandment keeping, is anchored in daily life. We can imagine his encouragement: “You can do this! You can do this because I have done it, and I am here to show you how to do it.” As difficult as that is for us to understand, it is right there in front of us as layed out by Scott Hoezee:
Above all we need to be students of God’s Word so that the words of Jesus can abide in us. We need to rehearse and enact the great stories of Jesus, recognizing how the parable of the prodigal son repeats itself a thousand times a day all over the place, including some days in our own lives when we are alternately the waiting father who is hoping for the best or the prodigal loping back home and expecting the worst. We need to rehearse the drama of the shepherd looking for that one lost sheep and so see again our own need to stick with even wandering folks over the long haul. We need to hear the beatitudes echoing in our minds and pray the prayer our Lord taught us. The words of Jesus must abide in us but that cannot happen if we neither know those words nor rehearse them often.
And, to attempt to bring us full circle, that is how we stay connected to the vine, which is what will result in our producing good, lasting fruit, which will bring us even closer to God, which will result in our being able to keep God’s commandments, which will make our wishes indistinguishable from those of Christ. Simple, right? AMEN
This week’s gospel reading is a continuation of the illustration of Jesus as the vine, God as the vine grower, and humanity as the branches from last week. Last week’s reading told us to abide in Jesus just as Jesus abides in us. In verse 7, Jesus said, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Today’s gospel gives us more information on what it means to abide; it also contains two more “If you…” statements: “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.” and, “You are my friends if you do what I command you.”
Between these statements are two “so that” statements: “ I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” and, And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.” Finally, there is a statement with two “buts'' embedded near the middle: “but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit…”. Abiding, keeping Christ’s commandments, bearing fruit and love are all intertwined. Using the patterns I noticed above may help us untangle them, at least partially.
Two of the statements end the same way. Abiding in Christ as Christ abides in us results in having done for us whatever we ask for. We have been appointed by Christ to go and bear lasting fruit so that the Father will give us whatever we ask in Jesus’ name. That means that abiding and going and bearing fruit are referring to the same thing. Don’t get too comfortable in your new understanding, though. Bearing fruit is something that is outside of the control of a branch, and it seems that we are only able to bear fruit because Jesus has appointed us to do so. While the idea of “abiding” might seem like a version of “Keep calm and grow grapes,” abiding must involve not only a choice, but also action.
This action must be framed by the keeping of commandments, and it results in love and joy. Doesn’t that seem like an odd combination? The joy of discipline? Perhaps the “but” statements will help here. Why does Jesus call us his friends? Because he has made known to us everything that he has heard from his father. That ties back to abiding not only in Jesus, but also in his words. Those “if” statements -- those possible conditions for entering into a fruitful relationship with Jesus -- all come together here.
We might argue (and often do) that keeping the commandments is impossible, even if they are all boiled down to loving our neighbors or loving one another as Christ has loved us. In John’s gospel, there are no words of institution at the Last Supper. Instead, the focus is on Jesus’ washing of the disciple’s feet. Similarly, for John, the crucifixion is less about atonement for sins than it is about proving God’s love for humanity. Are we really expected to be willing to lay down our lives for others -- even others who we dislike -- even those who hate us?
Jesus was, and Jesus’ use of himself as the model for love, and for commandment keeping, is anchored in daily life. We can imagine his encouragement: “You can do this! You can do this because I have done it, and I am here to show you how to do it.” As difficult as that is for us to understand, it is right there in front of us as layed out by Scott Hoezee:
Above all we need to be students of God’s Word so that the words of Jesus can abide in us. We need to rehearse and enact the great stories of Jesus, recognizing how the parable of the prodigal son repeats itself a thousand times a day all over the place, including some days in our own lives when we are alternately the waiting father who is hoping for the best or the prodigal loping back home and expecting the worst. We need to rehearse the drama of the shepherd looking for that one lost sheep and so see again our own need to stick with even wandering folks over the long haul. We need to hear the beatitudes echoing in our minds and pray the prayer our Lord taught us. The words of Jesus must abide in us but that cannot happen if we neither know those words nor rehearse them often.
And, to attempt to bring us full circle, that is how we stay connected to the vine, which is what will result in our producing good, lasting fruit, which will bring us even closer to God, which will result in our being able to keep God’s commandments, which will make our wishes indistinguishable from those of Christ. Simple, right? AMEN
Easter 5: May 2, 2021
At this point in John’s gospel, Jesus has repeatedly told the disciples that he will die and be resurrected. He has washed their feet at the Last Supper, Judas has left to betray him, and he has given them the new commandment to love one another as he has loved them. The disciples are struggling to understand why he has to leave them and why they cannot come. Telling them that he will return for them doesn’t seem to be helping. Explaining what it means to believe and the relationship between love and obedience is also proving difficult. At the center of it all is relationship -- the relationship between Jesus and God as father and son and the relationship that relationship makes possible between mankind and God. It all ends up feeling circular, doesn’t it? In today’s gospel, Jesus uses a metaphor to help the disciples understand. It is clear from the repetition that the relationship between abiding and bearing fruit is key to understanding Jesus’ point
We begin with the cast of characters: Jesus is the true vine, God is the vine grower, and the disciples are the branches. To stay true to the metaphor, we need to be clear that vines remain vines, farmers remain farmers, and branches remain branches. In other words, there are no seeds in this metaphor just waiting to become something else. As the vine grower, God removes every branch that doesn’t bear fruit and prunes every branch that bears fruit so that it will bear even more fruit. This is our first opportunity as readers to make a choice. Is this a threat or a promise?
That opportunity to choose is both the blessing and the curse of metaphors. If my faith is of the stricter variety, I can focus on “Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” as a warning for those who are fruitless. Abide or be lopped off and burn! If I prefer the “prosperity gospel,” I might prefer, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” If bad things happen to me, it must be because I didn’t abide hard enough. Is fruitfulness a relative thing? Is avoiding being lopped off like the joke about the two guys who meet a tiger in the jungle? When they hear the crashing, they both start running. One stops, takes some running shoes from his bag and puts them on. The other man makes fun of him for thinking that his run fast -- jump highs will make him faster than the tiger. The first man replies, “I don’t have to run faster than the tiger. I just have to run faster than you.”
And that is the trap -- when we try to measure what it means to abide or to bear fruit. The branches that end up being cut off once had every bit as intimate a relationship with Jesus the Vine as every other branch has. It is not as though these branches had once floated freely above the vine or had, at best, only a small connection to the larger vine stem. A branch is a branch and it is organically united with the vine. To lose such a branch is to lose part of your very self. As far as which branches will get pruned, over time, it will be all of them.
How we view the pruning reveals a great deal about our outlook on faith. We can see pruning as what God does for us when we live in relationship with him. Abiding is passive, but it brings change and makes fruitfulness possible. It is also accompanied by the removal of some things that we might think are essential, but that God removes. We can also view pruning as what God does to us when we stray from him by driving us to our knees by making us struggle -- much like the metaphor of refining.
While it is easy to get caught up in the possibilities and consequences of bearing fruit vs. not bearing fruit, I don’t believe that is the main point of the metaphor. We have all been given the potential to bear fruit, and all that we need to do is to cling to the vine. Like the vine grower, God is much more interested in increasing the productivity of the vine through nurturing than in punishing disobedient branches. If we are to love one another as Jesus loved us, we are to share that focus. AMEN
At this point in John’s gospel, Jesus has repeatedly told the disciples that he will die and be resurrected. He has washed their feet at the Last Supper, Judas has left to betray him, and he has given them the new commandment to love one another as he has loved them. The disciples are struggling to understand why he has to leave them and why they cannot come. Telling them that he will return for them doesn’t seem to be helping. Explaining what it means to believe and the relationship between love and obedience is also proving difficult. At the center of it all is relationship -- the relationship between Jesus and God as father and son and the relationship that relationship makes possible between mankind and God. It all ends up feeling circular, doesn’t it? In today’s gospel, Jesus uses a metaphor to help the disciples understand. It is clear from the repetition that the relationship between abiding and bearing fruit is key to understanding Jesus’ point
We begin with the cast of characters: Jesus is the true vine, God is the vine grower, and the disciples are the branches. To stay true to the metaphor, we need to be clear that vines remain vines, farmers remain farmers, and branches remain branches. In other words, there are no seeds in this metaphor just waiting to become something else. As the vine grower, God removes every branch that doesn’t bear fruit and prunes every branch that bears fruit so that it will bear even more fruit. This is our first opportunity as readers to make a choice. Is this a threat or a promise?
That opportunity to choose is both the blessing and the curse of metaphors. If my faith is of the stricter variety, I can focus on “Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” as a warning for those who are fruitless. Abide or be lopped off and burn! If I prefer the “prosperity gospel,” I might prefer, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” If bad things happen to me, it must be because I didn’t abide hard enough. Is fruitfulness a relative thing? Is avoiding being lopped off like the joke about the two guys who meet a tiger in the jungle? When they hear the crashing, they both start running. One stops, takes some running shoes from his bag and puts them on. The other man makes fun of him for thinking that his run fast -- jump highs will make him faster than the tiger. The first man replies, “I don’t have to run faster than the tiger. I just have to run faster than you.”
And that is the trap -- when we try to measure what it means to abide or to bear fruit. The branches that end up being cut off once had every bit as intimate a relationship with Jesus the Vine as every other branch has. It is not as though these branches had once floated freely above the vine or had, at best, only a small connection to the larger vine stem. A branch is a branch and it is organically united with the vine. To lose such a branch is to lose part of your very self. As far as which branches will get pruned, over time, it will be all of them.
How we view the pruning reveals a great deal about our outlook on faith. We can see pruning as what God does for us when we live in relationship with him. Abiding is passive, but it brings change and makes fruitfulness possible. It is also accompanied by the removal of some things that we might think are essential, but that God removes. We can also view pruning as what God does to us when we stray from him by driving us to our knees by making us struggle -- much like the metaphor of refining.
While it is easy to get caught up in the possibilities and consequences of bearing fruit vs. not bearing fruit, I don’t believe that is the main point of the metaphor. We have all been given the potential to bear fruit, and all that we need to do is to cling to the vine. Like the vine grower, God is much more interested in increasing the productivity of the vine through nurturing than in punishing disobedient branches. If we are to love one another as Jesus loved us, we are to share that focus. AMEN
Easter 4, Confirmation Sunday: April 25, 2021
At the heart of the service that we use for confirmation, the affirmation of baptism, is the Apostles’ Creed. The creed itself is meant to be a manageable outline of what we believe. It is only right, then, that we dwell on John’s gospel, which was written, “ so that (we) may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing (we) may have life in his name.” Throughout John’s gospel, Jesus performs miracles that demonstrate a power that is undeniable and repeatedly tells everyone who will listen that his power comes from God and that he has been sent so that people will come to believe in God through him. Today’s gospel reading is part of a series of events that lead to the crucifixion. The religious leaders have picked up stones to kill Jesus, but he is hidden from them and walks out of the temple, where he encounters a man who was born blind. The disciples ask whether the blindness was a result of the man’s sins or the sin’s of his parents. Jesus replies that the man was born blind in order to demonstrate the power of God.
Think about that for a minute; this man’s entire purpose was to be healed by Jesus and to be a witness to Jesus’ power! “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” What do the religious leaders do with this undeniable and irrefutable evidence that Jesus is who he has said that he is? Of course, they deny it and refute it by replying, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drive him out.
The religious leaders are trying to protect a tradition. When God spoke to Moses from the burning bush and Moses asked, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?’ God said to Moses,’I am who I am.’” which can also be translated, “I will be what I will be.” The religious leaders have taken it upon themselves to be the definers of God -- the ultimate authorities on what will please and displease God. Jesus blows this to smithereens with a series of “I am” statements of his own. No longer is faithfulness demonstrated by sacrifices and regulated by priests. Access to God, grace and salvation is freely given to those who believe: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.”
This takes us full circle. The religious leaders respond by again picking up stones to kill Jesus, and we are back to belief. There is no shortage of hirelings and thieves in the world waiting to lead us astray and to use us for their own advantage.We believe that Jesus proved that he was the Good Shepherd foretold by the 23rd Psalm because he willingly laid down his life for us and for all people for the forgiveness of sins. We demonstrate our faith by following Jesus on right paths beside still waters, by opening ourselves to having our souls restored, by taking comfort in his presence, even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Although God has blessed us with many gifts, the only one that truly matters is the ability to discern the source of all that is. AMEN
At the heart of the service that we use for confirmation, the affirmation of baptism, is the Apostles’ Creed. The creed itself is meant to be a manageable outline of what we believe. It is only right, then, that we dwell on John’s gospel, which was written, “ so that (we) may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing (we) may have life in his name.” Throughout John’s gospel, Jesus performs miracles that demonstrate a power that is undeniable and repeatedly tells everyone who will listen that his power comes from God and that he has been sent so that people will come to believe in God through him. Today’s gospel reading is part of a series of events that lead to the crucifixion. The religious leaders have picked up stones to kill Jesus, but he is hidden from them and walks out of the temple, where he encounters a man who was born blind. The disciples ask whether the blindness was a result of the man’s sins or the sin’s of his parents. Jesus replies that the man was born blind in order to demonstrate the power of God.
Think about that for a minute; this man’s entire purpose was to be healed by Jesus and to be a witness to Jesus’ power! “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” What do the religious leaders do with this undeniable and irrefutable evidence that Jesus is who he has said that he is? Of course, they deny it and refute it by replying, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drive him out.
The religious leaders are trying to protect a tradition. When God spoke to Moses from the burning bush and Moses asked, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?’ God said to Moses,’I am who I am.’” which can also be translated, “I will be what I will be.” The religious leaders have taken it upon themselves to be the definers of God -- the ultimate authorities on what will please and displease God. Jesus blows this to smithereens with a series of “I am” statements of his own. No longer is faithfulness demonstrated by sacrifices and regulated by priests. Access to God, grace and salvation is freely given to those who believe: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.”
This takes us full circle. The religious leaders respond by again picking up stones to kill Jesus, and we are back to belief. There is no shortage of hirelings and thieves in the world waiting to lead us astray and to use us for their own advantage.We believe that Jesus proved that he was the Good Shepherd foretold by the 23rd Psalm because he willingly laid down his life for us and for all people for the forgiveness of sins. We demonstrate our faith by following Jesus on right paths beside still waters, by opening ourselves to having our souls restored, by taking comfort in his presence, even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Although God has blessed us with many gifts, the only one that truly matters is the ability to discern the source of all that is. AMEN
Easter 3: April 18,2021
Last week’s gospel and today’s are like the same song recorded by two different artists. A crowd of “disciples,” which likely included not only the 11, but also the women who had been to the tomb and various others have gathered in the aftermath of the crucifixion. Jesus appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and says, “Peace be with you.” They are afraid, so Jesus shows them his wounds (Zounds!) to help them to accept that it is really him. Finally, they are sent as witnesses of the resurrection. Luke includes in this appearance a detail of Jesus eating fish in front of the disciples, which John includes in a later appearance. Luke holds off the breathing of the Spirit into the disciples for a later appearance. While John steps out of the story to explain to us that he has written his account so that we come to believe, Jesus himself reveals the importance of scripture in Luke.
Both Luke and John emphasize that the Jesus who appears after the resurrection is the same Jesus who was crucified; not a new creation, but a continuation of the presence of God since before time, at creation, now and forever. Both show Jesus patiently overcoming the doubts of his disciples so that they can be sent out into the world. The biggest difference between the two is that while John’s account has Jesus send the disciples, breathe the Spirit into them, and empower them to release and retain sins, Luke’s Gospel builds in a short pause while the disciples wait for to be “clothed with power from on high.” Luke’s gospel only goes on for four more verses: “ Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.
Luke’s message is not complicated, and it matches John’s intent; We are to tell the story of Jesus, which leads to a change of mind, and to proclaim that in Christ we find forgiveness. The foundation faith is that Jesus was the fulfillment of the scriptures -- the key to understanding them. It makes perfect sense, then, that the mission would begin in Jerusalem where people could be expected to know the scriptures, or at least have access to them. It seems that you cannot understand scripture without Jesus, and you cannot understand Jesus without scripture. So let’s keep it simple and speak it plain. After all, Jesus stands among us too! Part of coming to faith should be an enthusiasm for scripture. As a church, we need to figure out how to make that happen in a world of shortened attention spans, reluctance to read anything, and an overall decline in interest in religion. According to Acts 2, the recipe for the believers in the early church was simple: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
Somehow, we need to break through the idea that faith is all about who is going to heaven and who is going to hell. We are not called to believe concepts or abstractions, but the reality that Jesus is the Son of God, that he died on the cross for our sins, and that he has been resurrected and stands among us today. If we present faith as if it is all about following the rules, others will notice mostly the difference between what we claim to believe and how we live. If others think that faith is about reaching some higher form of consciousness, they won’t understand what it has to do with their daily lives. The gospel, the life of faith has to be grounded in reality. When we share communion, we are offered the closeness to Jesus that the disciples had. We invite others to the table so that they can touch Jesus and see. AMEN
Last week’s gospel and today’s are like the same song recorded by two different artists. A crowd of “disciples,” which likely included not only the 11, but also the women who had been to the tomb and various others have gathered in the aftermath of the crucifixion. Jesus appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and says, “Peace be with you.” They are afraid, so Jesus shows them his wounds (Zounds!) to help them to accept that it is really him. Finally, they are sent as witnesses of the resurrection. Luke includes in this appearance a detail of Jesus eating fish in front of the disciples, which John includes in a later appearance. Luke holds off the breathing of the Spirit into the disciples for a later appearance. While John steps out of the story to explain to us that he has written his account so that we come to believe, Jesus himself reveals the importance of scripture in Luke.
Both Luke and John emphasize that the Jesus who appears after the resurrection is the same Jesus who was crucified; not a new creation, but a continuation of the presence of God since before time, at creation, now and forever. Both show Jesus patiently overcoming the doubts of his disciples so that they can be sent out into the world. The biggest difference between the two is that while John’s account has Jesus send the disciples, breathe the Spirit into them, and empower them to release and retain sins, Luke’s Gospel builds in a short pause while the disciples wait for to be “clothed with power from on high.” Luke’s gospel only goes on for four more verses: “ Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.
Luke’s message is not complicated, and it matches John’s intent; We are to tell the story of Jesus, which leads to a change of mind, and to proclaim that in Christ we find forgiveness. The foundation faith is that Jesus was the fulfillment of the scriptures -- the key to understanding them. It makes perfect sense, then, that the mission would begin in Jerusalem where people could be expected to know the scriptures, or at least have access to them. It seems that you cannot understand scripture without Jesus, and you cannot understand Jesus without scripture. So let’s keep it simple and speak it plain. After all, Jesus stands among us too! Part of coming to faith should be an enthusiasm for scripture. As a church, we need to figure out how to make that happen in a world of shortened attention spans, reluctance to read anything, and an overall decline in interest in religion. According to Acts 2, the recipe for the believers in the early church was simple: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
Somehow, we need to break through the idea that faith is all about who is going to heaven and who is going to hell. We are not called to believe concepts or abstractions, but the reality that Jesus is the Son of God, that he died on the cross for our sins, and that he has been resurrected and stands among us today. If we present faith as if it is all about following the rules, others will notice mostly the difference between what we claim to believe and how we live. If others think that faith is about reaching some higher form of consciousness, they won’t understand what it has to do with their daily lives. The gospel, the life of faith has to be grounded in reality. When we share communion, we are offered the closeness to Jesus that the disciples had. We invite others to the table so that they can touch Jesus and see. AMEN
Easter 2: April 11, 2021
John’s Gospel was written to address a problem.: “(Jesus) was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God” (John 1:10-11), and to provide a solution: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” (John 20:30-31) while providing assurance: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
Throughout John, people give a variety of answers to Jesus’ question, “What are you looking for?”. Nathanael wants to know how the Messiah could possibly come from a place like Nazareth. Nicodemus wants to know how a person can be born again. The Samaritan woman at the well wants to know how Jesus can possibly give her living water without a bucket and rope. Mary Magdalene wonders what has been done with Jesus’ body, and Thomas wants proof of the resurrection. In each case, it is a personal encounter with Jesus, a response to His invitation to “Come and see.” results in belief.
But belief as an acknowledgement that Jesus is the Messiah is not the end; it is the beginning. The first time that Jesus appears to the disciples, their belief results in rejoicing, yet a week later they are still locked in the upper room. When he returns, he lays the whole thing on them: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” John doesn’t separate the resurrection, Pentecost, and the great commission. Instead, they are all wrapped together in a call to action accompanied by a promise of presence and the granting of power.
So what about grace? Doesn’t this feel like a gift with strings attached? I suppose that is a matter of perspective. Does God want something from us, or does God want something for us? We are invited into the life of Christ without being held to the same standard to which he held himself. Sinfulness is no longer a terminal condition or even a stumbling block. While we do not have the power to forgive sins, we have the power to release them in a couple of different ways. First, we can share the message itself -- that Jesus took sin to the cross because God wants to save the world, not condemn it. Secondly, we can live into the promise by letting go of our own sins and the sins of others. More easily said than done? Of course! But Jesus showed us how to do it and fills us with the Holy Spirit, which makes all things possible.
Charles Peirce said, “ Belief is that upon which one is prepared to act.” In other words, we know if someone believes something if they do something about it. Believing that Christ was resurrected from the dead and still active in the world should result in some sort of response on my part -- a response beyond declaring it annually on Easter Sunday. Believing that my sins are forgiven should cause me to live as though my sins are forgiven and that it is possible for the sins of others to be forgiven as well; I can even be encouraged instead of discouraged when I say “forgive us our tresspasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” This is not to say that belief is just a mindset. If it was, it would have faded away along with the books in the self-help section. The proof of our faith is in its endurance. AMEN
John’s Gospel was written to address a problem.: “(Jesus) was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God” (John 1:10-11), and to provide a solution: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” (John 20:30-31) while providing assurance: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
Throughout John, people give a variety of answers to Jesus’ question, “What are you looking for?”. Nathanael wants to know how the Messiah could possibly come from a place like Nazareth. Nicodemus wants to know how a person can be born again. The Samaritan woman at the well wants to know how Jesus can possibly give her living water without a bucket and rope. Mary Magdalene wonders what has been done with Jesus’ body, and Thomas wants proof of the resurrection. In each case, it is a personal encounter with Jesus, a response to His invitation to “Come and see.” results in belief.
But belief as an acknowledgement that Jesus is the Messiah is not the end; it is the beginning. The first time that Jesus appears to the disciples, their belief results in rejoicing, yet a week later they are still locked in the upper room. When he returns, he lays the whole thing on them: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” John doesn’t separate the resurrection, Pentecost, and the great commission. Instead, they are all wrapped together in a call to action accompanied by a promise of presence and the granting of power.
So what about grace? Doesn’t this feel like a gift with strings attached? I suppose that is a matter of perspective. Does God want something from us, or does God want something for us? We are invited into the life of Christ without being held to the same standard to which he held himself. Sinfulness is no longer a terminal condition or even a stumbling block. While we do not have the power to forgive sins, we have the power to release them in a couple of different ways. First, we can share the message itself -- that Jesus took sin to the cross because God wants to save the world, not condemn it. Secondly, we can live into the promise by letting go of our own sins and the sins of others. More easily said than done? Of course! But Jesus showed us how to do it and fills us with the Holy Spirit, which makes all things possible.
Charles Peirce said, “ Belief is that upon which one is prepared to act.” In other words, we know if someone believes something if they do something about it. Believing that Christ was resurrected from the dead and still active in the world should result in some sort of response on my part -- a response beyond declaring it annually on Easter Sunday. Believing that my sins are forgiven should cause me to live as though my sins are forgiven and that it is possible for the sins of others to be forgiven as well; I can even be encouraged instead of discouraged when I say “forgive us our tresspasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” This is not to say that belief is just a mindset. If it was, it would have faded away along with the books in the self-help section. The proof of our faith is in its endurance. AMEN
Easter 2021
Before the Reading of the Gospel:
Before the gospel is read, I want you to take a minute to clear your minds -- not only of thoughts of what you will be doing later today or of how it makes you feel to be in this place celebrating Easter, but also of what you know about the resurrection of Jesus. Take a few deep, cleansing breaths, and settle in to listen closely to the oldest of the gospel accounts of the Easter story.
“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” This is where Mark’s Gospel ends. There are no post-resurrection appearances, no doubting Thomas, no Ascension into heaven -- just, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” spoken by a young man in a white robe. In case you missed it, between the Last Supper and Jesus’ prayer in the Garden at Gethsemane, slipped in with the foretelling of Peter’s denial, Jesus had said, “You will all become deserters...but after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”
For Mark, whose entire introduction of Jesus consists of, “In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”, the circle has been completed, and it doesn’t matter that the women “went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Although Mark has prepared us to be disappointed in the disciples, we expect the women to faithfully do what needs to be done. More importantly, we expect that the predictions of Jesus will always find fulfillment in the story. Even if we don’t get a “happily ever after,” we expect some sort of resolution.
The problem is that the Bible isn’t a fairytale or a mystery novel. It isn’t an instruction manual either. The resurrection means that our Lord is a Living Lord and there are new wonders and new truths waiting to be discovered all the time. Like Mary, we are to accept the unexplainable, treasure it, and ponder it in our hearts. It is easy to understand why the first disciples ran away in fear. It is much more difficult to accept a God who cares more about redemption than punishment, a God who is about inclusion and not exclusion, a God who truly forgives and forgets our sins, a God who offers us hope instead of despair -- a God whose thoughts are not our thoughts and whose ways are not our ways. We would be much more comfortable with a God who was simply an idealized version of ourselves. But that is not who God is, and it is not who Jesus was.
We are a part of the Kingdom of God here and now. This does not mean that we are set apart from the world, but that we are a part of the process of reconciling what God’s creation has become with what it is meant to be. It can be frightening to accept that our lives matter, that our choices matter, that we are expected to make a difference, but if we accept it, we are offered freedom. Freedom from our nagging fear that there is not enough -- that we are not enough. AMEN
Before the Reading of the Gospel:
Before the gospel is read, I want you to take a minute to clear your minds -- not only of thoughts of what you will be doing later today or of how it makes you feel to be in this place celebrating Easter, but also of what you know about the resurrection of Jesus. Take a few deep, cleansing breaths, and settle in to listen closely to the oldest of the gospel accounts of the Easter story.
“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” This is where Mark’s Gospel ends. There are no post-resurrection appearances, no doubting Thomas, no Ascension into heaven -- just, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” spoken by a young man in a white robe. In case you missed it, between the Last Supper and Jesus’ prayer in the Garden at Gethsemane, slipped in with the foretelling of Peter’s denial, Jesus had said, “You will all become deserters...but after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”
For Mark, whose entire introduction of Jesus consists of, “In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”, the circle has been completed, and it doesn’t matter that the women “went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Although Mark has prepared us to be disappointed in the disciples, we expect the women to faithfully do what needs to be done. More importantly, we expect that the predictions of Jesus will always find fulfillment in the story. Even if we don’t get a “happily ever after,” we expect some sort of resolution.
The problem is that the Bible isn’t a fairytale or a mystery novel. It isn’t an instruction manual either. The resurrection means that our Lord is a Living Lord and there are new wonders and new truths waiting to be discovered all the time. Like Mary, we are to accept the unexplainable, treasure it, and ponder it in our hearts. It is easy to understand why the first disciples ran away in fear. It is much more difficult to accept a God who cares more about redemption than punishment, a God who is about inclusion and not exclusion, a God who truly forgives and forgets our sins, a God who offers us hope instead of despair -- a God whose thoughts are not our thoughts and whose ways are not our ways. We would be much more comfortable with a God who was simply an idealized version of ourselves. But that is not who God is, and it is not who Jesus was.
We are a part of the Kingdom of God here and now. This does not mean that we are set apart from the world, but that we are a part of the process of reconciling what God’s creation has become with what it is meant to be. It can be frightening to accept that our lives matter, that our choices matter, that we are expected to make a difference, but if we accept it, we are offered freedom. Freedom from our nagging fear that there is not enough -- that we are not enough. AMEN
Maundy Thursday: April 1, 2012
I suppose that tonight’s reading could be viewed as a map for understanding Jesus. Jesus knows that all things have been given into his hands and that he has come from God and is going to God. He asks the disciples if they know what he has done for them and tells them that if they know these things, they will be blessed if they do them, and, finally, that by this everyone will know that they are his disciples. On the surface, this seems simple: Jesus knows, the disciples learn, and everyone will learn from their example. There is, however, one unfortunate fly in the ointment: the disciples aren’t ready to understand, and the reaction of the world to the message of Jesus, then and now, has been mixed at best. The bad news is that the transfer of knowledge has gone poorly. The good news? God’s love as demonstrated by Jesus does not depend on our understanding or our worthiness. God is willing to wait for us to admit our ignorance and lower our guard to receive his love.
Do we know what Jesus has done to us? Notice that the question isn’t whether or not we understand it -- only if we know it. In John’s Gospel, Jesus doesn’t just give the disciples instructions on how to administer the sacrament of communion. By spending an intimate moment with each disciple, Jesus connects the body of Christ with the literal bodies of the believing community -- he does something to us every time that we take communion. Paul also connects the two when he says, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”
As plans were being made to livestream services from Baxter, I wondered if it was proper to show the congregation coming forward for communion. Other pastors assured me that communion is not a private act, but a public one. Tonight’s readings reinforce their opinions and take it to another level -- communion is not only public, it is a proclamation, a matter of public significance, and it is based in remembrance and on the love of Jesus. It is a vital part of the process of fulfilling the “new” commandment with which Jesus begins his Farewell Discourse: “that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” We are to do it publicly because, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
The command to “love your neighbor as yourself” is found way back in Leviticus. Jesus has already radically redefined the definition of “neighbor” both through his teaching and through his interactions in the world. Neighbors are not those who live nearest to us, and they are not those with whom we most identify. This is frightening on at least two levels: If, as Paul puts it in Galtians, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”, how are we to define ourselves? Knowing that he was about to betray him, Jesus not only shared the last supper with Judas, he washed his feet! Imagine what must have been going through the two men’s minds as Jesus knelt before Judas and looked into his eyes. Jesus didn’t do it in an attempt to change Judas’s mind or in order to impress his disciples. The Son of God refused to sever his connection with even this most despicable of sinners.
Peter’s reaction shows another way that this kind of love is frightening when he refuses to let Jesus wash his feet. It is extremely difficult to be on the receiving end of this kind of love. We are most comfortable with transactions that we consider equal, kind of an “I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine,” where there is mutual service. Most of us are also fairly comfortable with the kind of giving where we share out of our abundance with those less fortunate. We are least comfortable with accepting what we cannot repay. Even if we are charitable people, it is difficult for us to understand those who seem comfortable being on the receiving end of charity.
As we prepare for communion tonight, let’s remember that it is a public proclamation of our participation in the love of Jesus, and when we are tempted to think of our dignity, our prestige, our place, or our rights, let us see again the picture of the Son of God kneeling at the feet of his disciples. As Barclay said, “It is not as we separate ourselves from men that we come near to God. The nearer we are to suffering humanity, the nearer we are to God.” AMEN
I suppose that tonight’s reading could be viewed as a map for understanding Jesus. Jesus knows that all things have been given into his hands and that he has come from God and is going to God. He asks the disciples if they know what he has done for them and tells them that if they know these things, they will be blessed if they do them, and, finally, that by this everyone will know that they are his disciples. On the surface, this seems simple: Jesus knows, the disciples learn, and everyone will learn from their example. There is, however, one unfortunate fly in the ointment: the disciples aren’t ready to understand, and the reaction of the world to the message of Jesus, then and now, has been mixed at best. The bad news is that the transfer of knowledge has gone poorly. The good news? God’s love as demonstrated by Jesus does not depend on our understanding or our worthiness. God is willing to wait for us to admit our ignorance and lower our guard to receive his love.
Do we know what Jesus has done to us? Notice that the question isn’t whether or not we understand it -- only if we know it. In John’s Gospel, Jesus doesn’t just give the disciples instructions on how to administer the sacrament of communion. By spending an intimate moment with each disciple, Jesus connects the body of Christ with the literal bodies of the believing community -- he does something to us every time that we take communion. Paul also connects the two when he says, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”
As plans were being made to livestream services from Baxter, I wondered if it was proper to show the congregation coming forward for communion. Other pastors assured me that communion is not a private act, but a public one. Tonight’s readings reinforce their opinions and take it to another level -- communion is not only public, it is a proclamation, a matter of public significance, and it is based in remembrance and on the love of Jesus. It is a vital part of the process of fulfilling the “new” commandment with which Jesus begins his Farewell Discourse: “that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” We are to do it publicly because, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
The command to “love your neighbor as yourself” is found way back in Leviticus. Jesus has already radically redefined the definition of “neighbor” both through his teaching and through his interactions in the world. Neighbors are not those who live nearest to us, and they are not those with whom we most identify. This is frightening on at least two levels: If, as Paul puts it in Galtians, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”, how are we to define ourselves? Knowing that he was about to betray him, Jesus not only shared the last supper with Judas, he washed his feet! Imagine what must have been going through the two men’s minds as Jesus knelt before Judas and looked into his eyes. Jesus didn’t do it in an attempt to change Judas’s mind or in order to impress his disciples. The Son of God refused to sever his connection with even this most despicable of sinners.
Peter’s reaction shows another way that this kind of love is frightening when he refuses to let Jesus wash his feet. It is extremely difficult to be on the receiving end of this kind of love. We are most comfortable with transactions that we consider equal, kind of an “I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine,” where there is mutual service. Most of us are also fairly comfortable with the kind of giving where we share out of our abundance with those less fortunate. We are least comfortable with accepting what we cannot repay. Even if we are charitable people, it is difficult for us to understand those who seem comfortable being on the receiving end of charity.
As we prepare for communion tonight, let’s remember that it is a public proclamation of our participation in the love of Jesus, and when we are tempted to think of our dignity, our prestige, our place, or our rights, let us see again the picture of the Son of God kneeling at the feet of his disciples. As Barclay said, “It is not as we separate ourselves from men that we come near to God. The nearer we are to suffering humanity, the nearer we are to God.” AMEN
Palm Sunday: March 28, 2021
The problem with relying on church for all of your scripture needs is that you wind up with a mishmash of the Gospels told all out of order and explained by a person who may or may not have something significant and memorable to say about them. Today is Palm Sunday… sort of. For the past several years, the lectionary has been replacing Palm Sunday with Passion Sunday, likely in response to declining attendance at Holy Week services. While I find this disheartening, reflecting on it led me to discover a huge gap in my scriptural knowledge. Jesus didn’t just take a long nap or a short vacation between dismounting from his donkey on Palm Sunday and instituting the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday. All four gospels fill this gap differently. This is Mark’s year in the lectionary, so I decided to focus on this “time between” in Mark’s Gospel.
Barclay titles his analysis of Mark 14, “The Last Act Begins.” For some time, Jesus has been telling his disciples that they are headed to Jerusalem and explaining what will happen to him when they get there. We begin chapter 14 with a notification that Passover was two days away. Like many others, Jesus and the disciples were staying in “overflow housing” in one of the villages near Jerusalem. Passover commemorated the deliverance of the children of Israel from their bondage in Egypt. It also marked the barley harvest. On that day a sheaf of barley had to be waved before the crowd so that the barley of the new crop could be sold in the shops and break could be made with the new flour. There would have been a nationalistic feel to the celebration. Imagine celebrating independence day in an occupied country. There was a keen awareness that they were once again subjects of a foreign government and that much of the crop that they grew would be consumed by their occupiers. The last thing that the chief priests and scribes want is for Jesus to set a match to this powderkeg. The Romans would have brought in extra troops, and their response to trouble would have been immediate and bloody. They could easily convince themselves that their desire to see Jesus dead was justifiable because it would not only allow worship to continue in the Temple, but also save countless Jewish lives. Of course, their underlying insecurity based on the fact that Jesus was making them look bad also played a major role, but people have never had to struggle much to justify their sinful actions.
At the end of today’s reading, we get the unsettling news that Judas, one of the Twelve, has agreed to betray Jesus. Mark gives us no motive for the betrayal, nor does he tell us what happens to Judas afterwards. This can be difficult to deal with. You may have noticed, for example, the first reactions to the grocery store shootings in Boulder and the spa shootings in Atlanta. The media races to analyze who was killed by whom and why. Over the centuries, the same thing has been done with the crucifixion. Mark makes it clear that responsibility for Jesus’ death comes from both within Jesus’ followers and from the outside -- and that Judas isn’t a tragic exception -- the one bad apple in the group. This is one more instance in the Gospel of Mark where one of the Twelve, the inner circle of disciples, behaves poorly. In this sense, Judas’s action is consistent with Peter’s denials, the disciples’ inability to comprehend who Jesus was or where his actions were leading, and their failure to stay awake and accompany him in his darkest hours.
In the middle of this ugliness, and, the way Mark tells it, happening simultaneously, an unnamed woman performs an act of love that might be more unfathomable than Judas’s betrayal of Jesus. The act of anointing Jesus with oil worth a year’s pay is so extravagant, such an all-in acknowledgment of Jesus’ lordship, that it is meant to get our attention. We don’t need to know whether she understood the significance of her actions to understand that they show us how a disciple ought to behave. Like the widow at the Temple, what she had, she gave; or what she had it in her power to do, she did. Her act is beautiful because she has invested herself in it. More importantly, her act is timely. Whether she knew it or not, this was her only chance to honor Jesus in this way, and she took it. According to Thomas Currie, “ The extravagance of this woman’s act of faith, its sheer wasteful uselessness, reflects the extravagance of what Jesus is about to do, the lavish giving of himself poured out on the crowd for sinners. It is so useless. Such love is such poor stewardship. It is wastefully poured out on folk who do not deserve it. It receives so little in return. It does not increase our efficiency or enable us to master the habits of highly successful people or secure our social status. This love does not make us richer or more powerful or more successful. All it does is embrace us. All it does is draw us out of our self-absorbed ways, lifting us into God’s own life. All it does is grant us the gift, the marvelous gift that this woman knows so well, of being able to forget self in order to share in the outlandish joy of Christ’s extravagant gift of himself.”
We don’t know who scolded her, and it really doesn’t matter. At this point, it is nearly impossible to tell the “good guys” from the “bad guys.” And that is the point. Try as we might, we can’t convince ourselves that we don’t struggle with jealousy and insecurity like the high priests did, that we haven’t experienced both sides of betrayal, or that we haven’t fallen into the trap of considering ourselves so rich as not to think we are in great need. The heaviness of the passion narrative does not derive from the bad guys who do Jesus in. Strangely, the story, while not overlooking them, does not focus on them at all. No, the story is not about them, but about us. AMEN
The problem with relying on church for all of your scripture needs is that you wind up with a mishmash of the Gospels told all out of order and explained by a person who may or may not have something significant and memorable to say about them. Today is Palm Sunday… sort of. For the past several years, the lectionary has been replacing Palm Sunday with Passion Sunday, likely in response to declining attendance at Holy Week services. While I find this disheartening, reflecting on it led me to discover a huge gap in my scriptural knowledge. Jesus didn’t just take a long nap or a short vacation between dismounting from his donkey on Palm Sunday and instituting the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday. All four gospels fill this gap differently. This is Mark’s year in the lectionary, so I decided to focus on this “time between” in Mark’s Gospel.
Barclay titles his analysis of Mark 14, “The Last Act Begins.” For some time, Jesus has been telling his disciples that they are headed to Jerusalem and explaining what will happen to him when they get there. We begin chapter 14 with a notification that Passover was two days away. Like many others, Jesus and the disciples were staying in “overflow housing” in one of the villages near Jerusalem. Passover commemorated the deliverance of the children of Israel from their bondage in Egypt. It also marked the barley harvest. On that day a sheaf of barley had to be waved before the crowd so that the barley of the new crop could be sold in the shops and break could be made with the new flour. There would have been a nationalistic feel to the celebration. Imagine celebrating independence day in an occupied country. There was a keen awareness that they were once again subjects of a foreign government and that much of the crop that they grew would be consumed by their occupiers. The last thing that the chief priests and scribes want is for Jesus to set a match to this powderkeg. The Romans would have brought in extra troops, and their response to trouble would have been immediate and bloody. They could easily convince themselves that their desire to see Jesus dead was justifiable because it would not only allow worship to continue in the Temple, but also save countless Jewish lives. Of course, their underlying insecurity based on the fact that Jesus was making them look bad also played a major role, but people have never had to struggle much to justify their sinful actions.
At the end of today’s reading, we get the unsettling news that Judas, one of the Twelve, has agreed to betray Jesus. Mark gives us no motive for the betrayal, nor does he tell us what happens to Judas afterwards. This can be difficult to deal with. You may have noticed, for example, the first reactions to the grocery store shootings in Boulder and the spa shootings in Atlanta. The media races to analyze who was killed by whom and why. Over the centuries, the same thing has been done with the crucifixion. Mark makes it clear that responsibility for Jesus’ death comes from both within Jesus’ followers and from the outside -- and that Judas isn’t a tragic exception -- the one bad apple in the group. This is one more instance in the Gospel of Mark where one of the Twelve, the inner circle of disciples, behaves poorly. In this sense, Judas’s action is consistent with Peter’s denials, the disciples’ inability to comprehend who Jesus was or where his actions were leading, and their failure to stay awake and accompany him in his darkest hours.
In the middle of this ugliness, and, the way Mark tells it, happening simultaneously, an unnamed woman performs an act of love that might be more unfathomable than Judas’s betrayal of Jesus. The act of anointing Jesus with oil worth a year’s pay is so extravagant, such an all-in acknowledgment of Jesus’ lordship, that it is meant to get our attention. We don’t need to know whether she understood the significance of her actions to understand that they show us how a disciple ought to behave. Like the widow at the Temple, what she had, she gave; or what she had it in her power to do, she did. Her act is beautiful because she has invested herself in it. More importantly, her act is timely. Whether she knew it or not, this was her only chance to honor Jesus in this way, and she took it. According to Thomas Currie, “ The extravagance of this woman’s act of faith, its sheer wasteful uselessness, reflects the extravagance of what Jesus is about to do, the lavish giving of himself poured out on the crowd for sinners. It is so useless. Such love is such poor stewardship. It is wastefully poured out on folk who do not deserve it. It receives so little in return. It does not increase our efficiency or enable us to master the habits of highly successful people or secure our social status. This love does not make us richer or more powerful or more successful. All it does is embrace us. All it does is draw us out of our self-absorbed ways, lifting us into God’s own life. All it does is grant us the gift, the marvelous gift that this woman knows so well, of being able to forget self in order to share in the outlandish joy of Christ’s extravagant gift of himself.”
We don’t know who scolded her, and it really doesn’t matter. At this point, it is nearly impossible to tell the “good guys” from the “bad guys.” And that is the point. Try as we might, we can’t convince ourselves that we don’t struggle with jealousy and insecurity like the high priests did, that we haven’t experienced both sides of betrayal, or that we haven’t fallen into the trap of considering ourselves so rich as not to think we are in great need. The heaviness of the passion narrative does not derive from the bad guys who do Jesus in. Strangely, the story, while not overlooking them, does not focus on them at all. No, the story is not about them, but about us. AMEN
Lent 5: March 21, 2021
Jeremiah’s “new covenant” has never seemed more crucial than it does right here and now. After a year of Covid, we want nothing more than to “get back to normal,” to “go back to how things were.” During an online class this week, a fellow pastor talked about her struggle to understand what her congregation meant when they talked about returning to “real” worship. Of course, a sense of nostalgia is nothing new for the church. Much of our church life is based on tradition, order, and a sense of what is proper. Part of the attraction of church is that it can take us back to what we think of as simpler times. There is something immensely comforting about baptizing multiple generations in the same font filled from the same pitcher, group after group of confirmands gathered in front of the same altar, saying the same words in the same place as our ancestors said them… We have to be careful, though, that we don’t let the routines and rituals of church hold us back from our part of the covenant -- being God’s people.
Jeremiah’s “new covenant” has also never seemed so far away. Rather than internalizing God and being God’s people, it feels like the world is drifting further and further from God. Jeremiah tells us that “the days are surely coming.” His message is one of hopeful expectation of the time when God’s new covenant, the same covenant that Jesus made at the Last Supper, is fulfilled. In our Gospel reading, Jesus declares that “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” Jeremiah lived 2,600 years ago -- Jesus 2,000; how long can we remain hopeful?
Our Gospel reading is the last time that the “world” will hear Jesus’ words; it is time to choose between the side of light and the side of darkness. The crowd couldn’t have been expected to understand that the kind of death that Jesus was going to die. Not only was it unfathomable that he would submit to death on the cross, it was also inconceivable that he would be resurrected and ascend to heaven. We “know” that those things happened, but we still struggle to make sense of it all. This text shows us that the only way for us to move forward in our faith and as the church is to start at the end -- with the knowledge of God’s victory in Christ and to work backward from there.
To listen to Jesus is to believe. To know Jesus is to know God. Why should we continue to walk in darkness when the light is available, the light we know will shine forever? Satan, the world, or whatever you want to call the forces that want to keep us from God count on our insecurities. Sin is whatever keeps us from God. Admitting our sins isn’t an obstacle; it is the prompting of God’s law written on our hearts. Our only contribution to this covenant is the acknowledgment of our sin and the trust that it is healed by the redemptive power of God’s love.
Then what? The challenge of this gospel is to serve others, lose one's life, and die. All this, to gain new life. We do this in imitation of Jesus. Discipleship means a lifelong growing into dying and rising. Learning to serve, we understand what losing our life means. Losing our life, we understand what dying means. Dying, we receive the fruit: fullness of life and a share in Christ's glorification.
It seems like we spend a lot of time talking about how Jesus wasn’t what people expected, how he wasn’t like earthly kings. I am afraid that we view his goodness as weakness and that we struggle to understand how he can lead us to glory, not just serve as a role model for a life of service. Although Jesus was a man of peace, he wanted conquest; he wanted to subdue mankind. He knew that the only way to conquer and subdue our hearts forever was to show himself to us on the cross. We are left with the promise that what God did for Jesus he will do for each of us. AMEN
Jeremiah’s “new covenant” has never seemed more crucial than it does right here and now. After a year of Covid, we want nothing more than to “get back to normal,” to “go back to how things were.” During an online class this week, a fellow pastor talked about her struggle to understand what her congregation meant when they talked about returning to “real” worship. Of course, a sense of nostalgia is nothing new for the church. Much of our church life is based on tradition, order, and a sense of what is proper. Part of the attraction of church is that it can take us back to what we think of as simpler times. There is something immensely comforting about baptizing multiple generations in the same font filled from the same pitcher, group after group of confirmands gathered in front of the same altar, saying the same words in the same place as our ancestors said them… We have to be careful, though, that we don’t let the routines and rituals of church hold us back from our part of the covenant -- being God’s people.
Jeremiah’s “new covenant” has also never seemed so far away. Rather than internalizing God and being God’s people, it feels like the world is drifting further and further from God. Jeremiah tells us that “the days are surely coming.” His message is one of hopeful expectation of the time when God’s new covenant, the same covenant that Jesus made at the Last Supper, is fulfilled. In our Gospel reading, Jesus declares that “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” Jeremiah lived 2,600 years ago -- Jesus 2,000; how long can we remain hopeful?
Our Gospel reading is the last time that the “world” will hear Jesus’ words; it is time to choose between the side of light and the side of darkness. The crowd couldn’t have been expected to understand that the kind of death that Jesus was going to die. Not only was it unfathomable that he would submit to death on the cross, it was also inconceivable that he would be resurrected and ascend to heaven. We “know” that those things happened, but we still struggle to make sense of it all. This text shows us that the only way for us to move forward in our faith and as the church is to start at the end -- with the knowledge of God’s victory in Christ and to work backward from there.
To listen to Jesus is to believe. To know Jesus is to know God. Why should we continue to walk in darkness when the light is available, the light we know will shine forever? Satan, the world, or whatever you want to call the forces that want to keep us from God count on our insecurities. Sin is whatever keeps us from God. Admitting our sins isn’t an obstacle; it is the prompting of God’s law written on our hearts. Our only contribution to this covenant is the acknowledgment of our sin and the trust that it is healed by the redemptive power of God’s love.
Then what? The challenge of this gospel is to serve others, lose one's life, and die. All this, to gain new life. We do this in imitation of Jesus. Discipleship means a lifelong growing into dying and rising. Learning to serve, we understand what losing our life means. Losing our life, we understand what dying means. Dying, we receive the fruit: fullness of life and a share in Christ's glorification.
It seems like we spend a lot of time talking about how Jesus wasn’t what people expected, how he wasn’t like earthly kings. I am afraid that we view his goodness as weakness and that we struggle to understand how he can lead us to glory, not just serve as a role model for a life of service. Although Jesus was a man of peace, he wanted conquest; he wanted to subdue mankind. He knew that the only way to conquer and subdue our hearts forever was to show himself to us on the cross. We are left with the promise that what God did for Jesus he will do for each of us. AMEN
Lent 4: March 14, 2021
For God so loved the world. This line can be understood to mean, “This is how much God loved the world.”, or, “For this is how God loved the world.” That is a fairly fine distinction that shows how a word as small as “so” can change the meaning of a passage. Either way, the often overlooked part of this familiar passage is how closely it binds Jesus to God. God didn’t send Jesus because he realized that he couldn’t communicate effectively with humans. Jesus didn’t change God from a judgemental curmudgeon to a doting father who has finally seen the light. Jesus was the light sent to illuminate a path to salvation that had always existed. Viewed this way, it seems like “this is how God loved the world” is the better translation. And it is the world that God loved -- the whole world.
Jesus was born into a tradition that already worshipped God, a people who had heard the words of the prophets and who were waiting for the Messiah. The conversation with Nicodemus that leads up to today’s gospel shows the difficulty that the chosen people had understanding Jesus’ message. Actually, it is less an issue of understanding than it is of acceptance. For Nicodemus or anyone else who thought that they had the whole God thing figured out, Jesus was the ultimate challenge. The coming of the Messiah was supposed to validate the work of those who had been faithful, not expose it as incomplete. The idea that Jesus had come not to restore the people of Israel to their rightful place but to restore the relationship between God and ALL people was simply too much to take.
The church still struggles with this truth. The various denominations and subgroups of those denominations define themselves by which sacraments to share with whom, which sins they can tolerate and which are intolerable, which translation of the Bible is the truthiest, and other such foolishness. Local congregations spend an inordinate amount of time and money on building maintenance and ensuring that cemeteries will be maintained after all the members have died or moved away. Jesus told us that whoever believes will be saved, but the chart that tells us exactly how was lost before it could be included as an appendix in a study Bible.
One thing that John does tell us, though, is that we need to make a choice. It isn’t a choice between sinning or not sinning. Like people in the first lesson, we have all been bitten by the snake of sin. It isn’t a matter of agreeing that scripture is true, or taking a side on whether it is the unquestioned, sacred word of God, the work of men who were divinely inspired, or a human document that chronicles our relationship with God. It isn’t deciding that Jesus was a real historical figure who was also the Son of God and that he was truly killed to death, stayed dead over the weekend, and then rose. For John, particularly, it is about accepting or rejecting the light and all that it reveals. The good news, as The Message translation puts it, is that “God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again.”
That sounds easier than it is. Have any of you ever delayed going to the doctor because you were afraid that they would find something wrong with you? I know that I have. As long as there is no proof, I can pretend that everything is fine. Of course, once there is a diagnosis, there may also be a cure. But the issue goes deeper than self-deception. Again from The Message: “This is the crisis we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness. They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God. Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won’t come near it, fearing a painful exposure. But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is.”
The good news is that it doesn’t happen all at once. Nicodemus seems unconvinced after his initial meeting with Jesus, but he appears twice more in John -- once to point out that Jesus deserves to be heard before he is judged and again after the crucifixion to care for Jesus’ body. The Samaritan woman at the well tells her community that Jesus is the messiah because he has seen all of her sins. This leads others to belief once they have seen Jesus for themselves. Neither of these is a dramatic conversion story, and both could have done much more. Belief seems to consist of admitting to what the light reveals about us, accepting Jesus’ help, and stepping onto God’s path that has been revealed through Jesus. AMEN
For God so loved the world. This line can be understood to mean, “This is how much God loved the world.”, or, “For this is how God loved the world.” That is a fairly fine distinction that shows how a word as small as “so” can change the meaning of a passage. Either way, the often overlooked part of this familiar passage is how closely it binds Jesus to God. God didn’t send Jesus because he realized that he couldn’t communicate effectively with humans. Jesus didn’t change God from a judgemental curmudgeon to a doting father who has finally seen the light. Jesus was the light sent to illuminate a path to salvation that had always existed. Viewed this way, it seems like “this is how God loved the world” is the better translation. And it is the world that God loved -- the whole world.
Jesus was born into a tradition that already worshipped God, a people who had heard the words of the prophets and who were waiting for the Messiah. The conversation with Nicodemus that leads up to today’s gospel shows the difficulty that the chosen people had understanding Jesus’ message. Actually, it is less an issue of understanding than it is of acceptance. For Nicodemus or anyone else who thought that they had the whole God thing figured out, Jesus was the ultimate challenge. The coming of the Messiah was supposed to validate the work of those who had been faithful, not expose it as incomplete. The idea that Jesus had come not to restore the people of Israel to their rightful place but to restore the relationship between God and ALL people was simply too much to take.
The church still struggles with this truth. The various denominations and subgroups of those denominations define themselves by which sacraments to share with whom, which sins they can tolerate and which are intolerable, which translation of the Bible is the truthiest, and other such foolishness. Local congregations spend an inordinate amount of time and money on building maintenance and ensuring that cemeteries will be maintained after all the members have died or moved away. Jesus told us that whoever believes will be saved, but the chart that tells us exactly how was lost before it could be included as an appendix in a study Bible.
One thing that John does tell us, though, is that we need to make a choice. It isn’t a choice between sinning or not sinning. Like people in the first lesson, we have all been bitten by the snake of sin. It isn’t a matter of agreeing that scripture is true, or taking a side on whether it is the unquestioned, sacred word of God, the work of men who were divinely inspired, or a human document that chronicles our relationship with God. It isn’t deciding that Jesus was a real historical figure who was also the Son of God and that he was truly killed to death, stayed dead over the weekend, and then rose. For John, particularly, it is about accepting or rejecting the light and all that it reveals. The good news, as The Message translation puts it, is that “God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again.”
That sounds easier than it is. Have any of you ever delayed going to the doctor because you were afraid that they would find something wrong with you? I know that I have. As long as there is no proof, I can pretend that everything is fine. Of course, once there is a diagnosis, there may also be a cure. But the issue goes deeper than self-deception. Again from The Message: “This is the crisis we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness. They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God. Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won’t come near it, fearing a painful exposure. But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is.”
The good news is that it doesn’t happen all at once. Nicodemus seems unconvinced after his initial meeting with Jesus, but he appears twice more in John -- once to point out that Jesus deserves to be heard before he is judged and again after the crucifixion to care for Jesus’ body. The Samaritan woman at the well tells her community that Jesus is the messiah because he has seen all of her sins. This leads others to belief once they have seen Jesus for themselves. Neither of these is a dramatic conversion story, and both could have done much more. Belief seems to consist of admitting to what the light reveals about us, accepting Jesus’ help, and stepping onto God’s path that has been revealed through Jesus. AMEN
Lenten Service: March 10, 2021
What is the message of the cross? On one hand, it is impossible for the human mind to understand. Knowing that God is omniscient and omnipotent, we can become more focused on the power of God than on the nature of God. In 1 Kings, Elijah flees to the wilderness and prays to die because he feels like a failure. Instead of taking his life, God sends an angel to tell him to pull himself together and travel to Mount Saini, where he will see God. A wind strong enough to blow the rocks off the side of the mountain comes, but “the Lord was not in the wind.” Then comes an earthquake, “but the Lord was not in the earthquake.” A fire follows, but, you guessed it, “the Lord was not in the fire.” After the fire, there was the sound of a gentle whisper, which is where God is.
Paul says, “This foolish plan of God is wiser than the wisest of human plans, and God’s weakness is stronger than the greatest of human strength.” Isaiah put it, “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord, “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” The teachings of Jesus are full of contradictions: It is better to give than receive, we find ourselves by losing ourselves for others, in dying to self and sin we find the essence of life in all its abundance, by becoming His slave we will find true freedom, and God can take the likes of you and me and use us in a most extraordinary way if we will only let him.
The church in Corinth was falling apart because they brought the world’s sense of who should have status and power into the church. Paul argued that God intentionally and decidedly destroyed the ways and means by which humanity has attempted to get to God. Paul gives new meaning to such words as wisdom and strength; meanings that may make us feel that we are neither as wise nor as powerful as we would like to be. Words like privilege and rights continue to bedevil us, but they are words that only matter in the framework of the world. There can be no rights or privileges if God’s grace is given indiscriminately to all and if none are worthy of it. This changes our lives from a contest over scarce resources to an effort to make sure that everyone shares in life abundant. Being the richest, the smartest, the best-looking, or the holiest are irrelevant to God.
Easier said than done? For sure! This morning, my daughter shared this on Facebook: If you are a giver, please learn your limits because some takers don't have any. There is, of course, truth to this, but it is largely a matter of perception. The hallway at the food shelf provides an example. We try to always provide bread and some staple items like canned fruits and vegetables, noodles and rice for people to take to supplement their monthly food boxes. In addition, we get hundreds of pounds of food that is near expiration from Wal-Mart every week, people often donate items that don’t go in our boxes, and I order other extras for the hallway. We are very proud of our selection of healthy foods. Our shelves are never bare, and there is a sign asking that people take four or fewer items per visit. However, there are a few people who come in almost daily and take multiple bags of food. They complain when there are no sweets available or if the variety is not up to their standards. They are not afraid to make special requests; one actually said, “I am set for pie, but I need some cheesecake” a couple of weeks ago. Some of these folks have large, extended families while others live alone. We do our best to gently discourage them from overindulging, we stock the shelves throughout the day instead of putting everything out at once, but the taking continues.
Of course, it isn’t really our food. It is donated, bought with donated funds, or (mostly) bought at a dramatically reduced price from a food bank. I don’t believe that these people are taking the food because they are greedy or selfish either. Maybe they have gone without in the past and they are doing all that they can to never go without again. Perhaps they feel that much of what goes on in their lives is beyond their control, so they are overcompensating. They might have some sort of a hoarding disorder. I doubt that they could give an honest answer, even to themselves, to why they feel the need to take multiple chocolate cakes or several bags of sugar home.
The cross tells us that we can’t divide the world into givers and takers. At best, we are takers and sharers. While we might not hoard groceries, we are driven by cravings for love, affection, recognition, appreciation, and respect. We jealously protect what is ours and frame our worldview by what has been earned and what is deserved. The cross exposes all of that as a lie. Everything that we have, along with the means to get it, is a gift from God -- not a God of thunderous power who flexes his muscles, but a God who often speaks in whispers. The cross tells us to quit trying to reconcile what we want to do with what God wants us to do. The only way to experience God’s grace is to let go of everything else. I would explain it further, but you have heard enough of my particular brand of foolishness for one evening. AMEN
What is the message of the cross? On one hand, it is impossible for the human mind to understand. Knowing that God is omniscient and omnipotent, we can become more focused on the power of God than on the nature of God. In 1 Kings, Elijah flees to the wilderness and prays to die because he feels like a failure. Instead of taking his life, God sends an angel to tell him to pull himself together and travel to Mount Saini, where he will see God. A wind strong enough to blow the rocks off the side of the mountain comes, but “the Lord was not in the wind.” Then comes an earthquake, “but the Lord was not in the earthquake.” A fire follows, but, you guessed it, “the Lord was not in the fire.” After the fire, there was the sound of a gentle whisper, which is where God is.
Paul says, “This foolish plan of God is wiser than the wisest of human plans, and God’s weakness is stronger than the greatest of human strength.” Isaiah put it, “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord, “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” The teachings of Jesus are full of contradictions: It is better to give than receive, we find ourselves by losing ourselves for others, in dying to self and sin we find the essence of life in all its abundance, by becoming His slave we will find true freedom, and God can take the likes of you and me and use us in a most extraordinary way if we will only let him.
The church in Corinth was falling apart because they brought the world’s sense of who should have status and power into the church. Paul argued that God intentionally and decidedly destroyed the ways and means by which humanity has attempted to get to God. Paul gives new meaning to such words as wisdom and strength; meanings that may make us feel that we are neither as wise nor as powerful as we would like to be. Words like privilege and rights continue to bedevil us, but they are words that only matter in the framework of the world. There can be no rights or privileges if God’s grace is given indiscriminately to all and if none are worthy of it. This changes our lives from a contest over scarce resources to an effort to make sure that everyone shares in life abundant. Being the richest, the smartest, the best-looking, or the holiest are irrelevant to God.
Easier said than done? For sure! This morning, my daughter shared this on Facebook: If you are a giver, please learn your limits because some takers don't have any. There is, of course, truth to this, but it is largely a matter of perception. The hallway at the food shelf provides an example. We try to always provide bread and some staple items like canned fruits and vegetables, noodles and rice for people to take to supplement their monthly food boxes. In addition, we get hundreds of pounds of food that is near expiration from Wal-Mart every week, people often donate items that don’t go in our boxes, and I order other extras for the hallway. We are very proud of our selection of healthy foods. Our shelves are never bare, and there is a sign asking that people take four or fewer items per visit. However, there are a few people who come in almost daily and take multiple bags of food. They complain when there are no sweets available or if the variety is not up to their standards. They are not afraid to make special requests; one actually said, “I am set for pie, but I need some cheesecake” a couple of weeks ago. Some of these folks have large, extended families while others live alone. We do our best to gently discourage them from overindulging, we stock the shelves throughout the day instead of putting everything out at once, but the taking continues.
Of course, it isn’t really our food. It is donated, bought with donated funds, or (mostly) bought at a dramatically reduced price from a food bank. I don’t believe that these people are taking the food because they are greedy or selfish either. Maybe they have gone without in the past and they are doing all that they can to never go without again. Perhaps they feel that much of what goes on in their lives is beyond their control, so they are overcompensating. They might have some sort of a hoarding disorder. I doubt that they could give an honest answer, even to themselves, to why they feel the need to take multiple chocolate cakes or several bags of sugar home.
The cross tells us that we can’t divide the world into givers and takers. At best, we are takers and sharers. While we might not hoard groceries, we are driven by cravings for love, affection, recognition, appreciation, and respect. We jealously protect what is ours and frame our worldview by what has been earned and what is deserved. The cross exposes all of that as a lie. Everything that we have, along with the means to get it, is a gift from God -- not a God of thunderous power who flexes his muscles, but a God who often speaks in whispers. The cross tells us to quit trying to reconcile what we want to do with what God wants us to do. The only way to experience God’s grace is to let go of everything else. I would explain it further, but you have heard enough of my particular brand of foolishness for one evening. AMEN
Lent 3: March 7, 2021
Jesus was not surprised when he found the merchants and money changers in the temple, and it doesn’t seem that he was particularly angry either. Yes, he took the time to make a whip and he overturned some tables, but Jesus was clearly in control of his emotions. He chased the sheep and cattle out of the temple, but he had the sellers of doves remove them. It is much easier to retrieve sheep and cattle than it is to recover doves that have been set free from their cages. He poured the money on the floor and overturned the tables, but, with a bit of cooperation, it would be fairly easy to pick up the money and set the tables back up. Although this story is often headed, “Jesus Cleanses the Temple,” there is no indication that business as usual didn’t resume almost immediately. The immediate result that Jesus seems to have been looking for is the question: “What sign can you show us for doing this?”, or what gives you the right to behave this way in a holy place? The answer made no sense to anyone who heard it. Yes, the temple could be rebuilt. By the time John’s Gospel was written, both Solomon’s and Herod’s temples had been built and destroyed. It was, however, more than the work of a lifetime; those who laid the first bricks would not expect to see the project completed. John takes advantage of this misunderstanding to point his readers to the truth: “But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.”
Yes, the temple went back to business as usual, but everyone who has read the Gospel of John knows that the temple’s days were numbered. The disciples were not immediately changed by this event, but we know, as they would learn all too soon, that Jesus' earthly days were also numbered, and that he would be raised from the dead. Given enough time and access to materials, a building can be rebuilt, but we could take every second that has passed in the 13.7 billion-year history of the physical cosmos and it would still not be time sufficient to reconstruct a single human being who ever lived or raise someone up from the dust. Jesus does that. It happened to him first so that all may follow.
Jesus replaces the Temple as the point of connection between the human and the divine, and no elaborate system of tribute and animal sacrifice is necessary. Lent is a good time for us to think about where we see connections between ourselves and God and to ask how what we do at church either fosters or hinders those connections. I would guess that many of us experience God through nature, whether in the beauty of a landscape, a sunrise or sunset, the riot of new birth and growth that comes with spring, the sound of waves lapping the shore, holding our children and grandchildren, or any other of the wonders of creation. Maybe we connect with God as we let our minds spin free and gaze into a fire or as we wait patiently for a fish to bite or a deer to come into range. Of course, church buildings are designed to turn our thoughts to God, which is also the aim of our worship.
And that is the ultimate question raised by this passage: does our worship bring us closer to God? Do we experience the richness of that connection in the waters of baptism and in the bread and wine? Do we see it in the faces of our children? It also offers us grace if the answer to any or all of those questions is no. Like the disciples, we are asked to stick with it and wait for the truth to be revealed. Deep, mature faith isn’t a sudden, one-time epiphany; it is the result of a lifetime of engaging, experiencing and remembering. It is possible because the same God has sent the prophets whose words are Scripture (even for Jesus) and has sent Jesus. This God continues to be among us as the Holy Spirit. The reliability is God’s reliability, God’s faithfulness. AMEN
Jesus was not surprised when he found the merchants and money changers in the temple, and it doesn’t seem that he was particularly angry either. Yes, he took the time to make a whip and he overturned some tables, but Jesus was clearly in control of his emotions. He chased the sheep and cattle out of the temple, but he had the sellers of doves remove them. It is much easier to retrieve sheep and cattle than it is to recover doves that have been set free from their cages. He poured the money on the floor and overturned the tables, but, with a bit of cooperation, it would be fairly easy to pick up the money and set the tables back up. Although this story is often headed, “Jesus Cleanses the Temple,” there is no indication that business as usual didn’t resume almost immediately. The immediate result that Jesus seems to have been looking for is the question: “What sign can you show us for doing this?”, or what gives you the right to behave this way in a holy place? The answer made no sense to anyone who heard it. Yes, the temple could be rebuilt. By the time John’s Gospel was written, both Solomon’s and Herod’s temples had been built and destroyed. It was, however, more than the work of a lifetime; those who laid the first bricks would not expect to see the project completed. John takes advantage of this misunderstanding to point his readers to the truth: “But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.”
Yes, the temple went back to business as usual, but everyone who has read the Gospel of John knows that the temple’s days were numbered. The disciples were not immediately changed by this event, but we know, as they would learn all too soon, that Jesus' earthly days were also numbered, and that he would be raised from the dead. Given enough time and access to materials, a building can be rebuilt, but we could take every second that has passed in the 13.7 billion-year history of the physical cosmos and it would still not be time sufficient to reconstruct a single human being who ever lived or raise someone up from the dust. Jesus does that. It happened to him first so that all may follow.
Jesus replaces the Temple as the point of connection between the human and the divine, and no elaborate system of tribute and animal sacrifice is necessary. Lent is a good time for us to think about where we see connections between ourselves and God and to ask how what we do at church either fosters or hinders those connections. I would guess that many of us experience God through nature, whether in the beauty of a landscape, a sunrise or sunset, the riot of new birth and growth that comes with spring, the sound of waves lapping the shore, holding our children and grandchildren, or any other of the wonders of creation. Maybe we connect with God as we let our minds spin free and gaze into a fire or as we wait patiently for a fish to bite or a deer to come into range. Of course, church buildings are designed to turn our thoughts to God, which is also the aim of our worship.
And that is the ultimate question raised by this passage: does our worship bring us closer to God? Do we experience the richness of that connection in the waters of baptism and in the bread and wine? Do we see it in the faces of our children? It also offers us grace if the answer to any or all of those questions is no. Like the disciples, we are asked to stick with it and wait for the truth to be revealed. Deep, mature faith isn’t a sudden, one-time epiphany; it is the result of a lifetime of engaging, experiencing and remembering. It is possible because the same God has sent the prophets whose words are Scripture (even for Jesus) and has sent Jesus. This God continues to be among us as the Holy Spirit. The reliability is God’s reliability, God’s faithfulness. AMEN
Lent 2: February 28, 2021He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. (Mark 8:29-31 NRSV) He began to teach them because they knew just enough to be dangerous. The Messiah that the people were waiting for was the fulfillment of God’s covenant with David -- a promise that the Messiah would come from the lineage of David and the tribe of Judah and would establish a kingdom that would endure forever. When Peter correctly identified Jesus as the Messiah, it came along with the expectation that the People of Israel would finally have a home of their own and that they would no longer be oppressed by foreign rulers. One can only imagine the disciples’ visions of coming glory as insiders in this kingdom. The fact that Jesus has already demonstrated his authority as a teacher and his powers over evil spirits and diseases has been attracting huge crowds. Surely it is only a matter of time before the revolution will begin. Why should they keep silent?
Jesus knows that they have no chance of understanding his teachings unless he can move them beyond their preconceptions of what it means to be affiliated with him. Although Jesus is the one who will die, he is able to look beyond the suffering, the rejection, and even death to the resurrection. The disciples, however, are unable to get past the power of the cross. That is hardly surprising. In their time, the cross was the ultimate display of Rome’s authority; it was where criminals and enemies of the state died slow, public, excruciating deaths. The disciples will run from the cross, but Jesus will not dial down his ministry to spare his own life, or even to ease his suffering. He wants the disciples to follow him, but not because of false expectations.
And it is not just the twelve who Jesus invites to follow him. Midway through our reading, Jesus calls the crowd along with the disciples and says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Jesus is looking for participants in his ministry, not students of his theology. What preconceptions do we have that might prevent us from hearing what Jesus is saying? Do we believe that God is present when things are going well and that struggles are a sign that God is absent? Do we find the idea of God’s grace too good to be true and fall back on trying to follow commandments and do good works? Do we view faith as something that is purely spiritual and that really only matters as far as it affects what happens after we die? As I said on Wednesday night, William Barclay defines sin as “that which interrupts the relationship that should exist between God and men.” Jesus explains the requirements for entering that relationship simply: deny yourself, pick up your cross, and follow Jesus.
Denying ourselves does not mean that we stop doing something that we enjoy. It is a form of repentance -- a change in focus from ourselves to God. Barclay takes it a step further, saying that to deny oneself means being able to say with Paul that it is no longer we who live but Christ who lives in us. Taking up our cross doesn’t mean fulfilling our obligations to God or differentiating ourselves somehow from “non-Christians.” I can’t explain it adequately, but it involves accepting the fact that we will continue to sin and that we are incapable of Jesus’ unswerving devotion to the poor and the outcast. A great deal of our time spent following Jesus will involve trying to keep up.
What’s in it for us? Work worth doing in this life and a chance to be the person who God created us to be. AMEN
Jesus knows that they have no chance of understanding his teachings unless he can move them beyond their preconceptions of what it means to be affiliated with him. Although Jesus is the one who will die, he is able to look beyond the suffering, the rejection, and even death to the resurrection. The disciples, however, are unable to get past the power of the cross. That is hardly surprising. In their time, the cross was the ultimate display of Rome’s authority; it was where criminals and enemies of the state died slow, public, excruciating deaths. The disciples will run from the cross, but Jesus will not dial down his ministry to spare his own life, or even to ease his suffering. He wants the disciples to follow him, but not because of false expectations.
And it is not just the twelve who Jesus invites to follow him. Midway through our reading, Jesus calls the crowd along with the disciples and says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Jesus is looking for participants in his ministry, not students of his theology. What preconceptions do we have that might prevent us from hearing what Jesus is saying? Do we believe that God is present when things are going well and that struggles are a sign that God is absent? Do we find the idea of God’s grace too good to be true and fall back on trying to follow commandments and do good works? Do we view faith as something that is purely spiritual and that really only matters as far as it affects what happens after we die? As I said on Wednesday night, William Barclay defines sin as “that which interrupts the relationship that should exist between God and men.” Jesus explains the requirements for entering that relationship simply: deny yourself, pick up your cross, and follow Jesus.
Denying ourselves does not mean that we stop doing something that we enjoy. It is a form of repentance -- a change in focus from ourselves to God. Barclay takes it a step further, saying that to deny oneself means being able to say with Paul that it is no longer we who live but Christ who lives in us. Taking up our cross doesn’t mean fulfilling our obligations to God or differentiating ourselves somehow from “non-Christians.” I can’t explain it adequately, but it involves accepting the fact that we will continue to sin and that we are incapable of Jesus’ unswerving devotion to the poor and the outcast. A great deal of our time spent following Jesus will involve trying to keep up.
What’s in it for us? Work worth doing in this life and a chance to be the person who God created us to be. AMEN
Lent 1: February 21, 2021
The Old Testament ends with the words of Malachi: “ Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.” About 400 years later, John the Baptist appears in the wilderness, “clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and dining on locusts and wild honey.” Along with “people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem,” we are free to believe that John is Elijah, who has returned to offer salvation to the faithful before the End Times. It is not John or Elijah, however, who will save the people from the curse. There is a greater one yet to come -- one who will baptise not with water, but with the Holy Spirit.
And then Jesus appears and is baptized by John, even though he has no need to repent or to be forgiven. He goes into the water in exactly the same manner as scores of others before and after him. Just as he comes out of the water, the heavens are torn open and the Spirit descends on him. Theological concerns aside, the baptism of Jesus is accompanied by the reintroduction of the Spirit into the world. The Spirit then proceeds to throw Jesus even deeper into the wilderness to confront the force that has held sway over the world during the 400 years of silence: Satan. Satan had been cast out of heaven because he wanted to be God. Adam and Eve had been kicked out of the Garden because they had succumbed to Satan’s temptation. The first order of business for the “new Adam” is to put Satan on notice.
Next, John is arrested and Jesus comes to Galilee, “proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’” It is clear that the kingdom is not a separate place, but a power. It is God asserting that power to put right all that is wrong in this world. Fortunately, it is a power guided by mercy and not vengeance. Jesus is a participant in the kingdom. Although he is the beloved of God, there is much to be done before “the hopes and fears of all the years” are met in him. He announces the coming of the kingdom to hearers who will themselves misunderstand, be misunderstood, and even give up completely. The questions “what sort of kingdom is this? And “how good is this news, really?” will be answered throughout Mark’s gospel by the religious authorities, demonic forces, the power of Rome, and ultimately even death itself.
Pope Francis and I have struggled with the sixth petition of the Lord’s Prayer, “Lead us not into temptation.” In his explanation, Luther says that “God tempts no one.” This petition only makes sense if we consider it in light of the life of Jesus. In Jesus, God willingly gave up his omnipotent powers and became completely one of us. He did not delegate the risks that accompanied the establishment of his kingdom to others, he assumed them himself. Of course we do not want to be tempted or tested, but when we understand that God did not protect his Son from temptation, suffering, and death, how can we continue to hope that he will protect us?
The kingdom is not a separated place. Faith will not result in our prosperity or protect us from misfortune and tragedy. As Matthew tells us, God “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” What kind of kingdom is this? Because of Jesus, it is possible for us to break the cycle of sin, repent, repeat. Things do not have to stay the way they are now. God’s creation will be restored to its intended perfection. AMEN
The Old Testament ends with the words of Malachi: “ Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.” About 400 years later, John the Baptist appears in the wilderness, “clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and dining on locusts and wild honey.” Along with “people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem,” we are free to believe that John is Elijah, who has returned to offer salvation to the faithful before the End Times. It is not John or Elijah, however, who will save the people from the curse. There is a greater one yet to come -- one who will baptise not with water, but with the Holy Spirit.
And then Jesus appears and is baptized by John, even though he has no need to repent or to be forgiven. He goes into the water in exactly the same manner as scores of others before and after him. Just as he comes out of the water, the heavens are torn open and the Spirit descends on him. Theological concerns aside, the baptism of Jesus is accompanied by the reintroduction of the Spirit into the world. The Spirit then proceeds to throw Jesus even deeper into the wilderness to confront the force that has held sway over the world during the 400 years of silence: Satan. Satan had been cast out of heaven because he wanted to be God. Adam and Eve had been kicked out of the Garden because they had succumbed to Satan’s temptation. The first order of business for the “new Adam” is to put Satan on notice.
Next, John is arrested and Jesus comes to Galilee, “proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’” It is clear that the kingdom is not a separate place, but a power. It is God asserting that power to put right all that is wrong in this world. Fortunately, it is a power guided by mercy and not vengeance. Jesus is a participant in the kingdom. Although he is the beloved of God, there is much to be done before “the hopes and fears of all the years” are met in him. He announces the coming of the kingdom to hearers who will themselves misunderstand, be misunderstood, and even give up completely. The questions “what sort of kingdom is this? And “how good is this news, really?” will be answered throughout Mark’s gospel by the religious authorities, demonic forces, the power of Rome, and ultimately even death itself.
Pope Francis and I have struggled with the sixth petition of the Lord’s Prayer, “Lead us not into temptation.” In his explanation, Luther says that “God tempts no one.” This petition only makes sense if we consider it in light of the life of Jesus. In Jesus, God willingly gave up his omnipotent powers and became completely one of us. He did not delegate the risks that accompanied the establishment of his kingdom to others, he assumed them himself. Of course we do not want to be tempted or tested, but when we understand that God did not protect his Son from temptation, suffering, and death, how can we continue to hope that he will protect us?
The kingdom is not a separated place. Faith will not result in our prosperity or protect us from misfortune and tragedy. As Matthew tells us, God “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” What kind of kingdom is this? Because of Jesus, it is possible for us to break the cycle of sin, repent, repeat. Things do not have to stay the way they are now. God’s creation will be restored to its intended perfection. AMEN
Transfiguration Sunday: February 14, 2021
At its core, Mark’s Gospel is the story of the education of the disciples. After a brief summary of John the Baptist’s teachings, the story of Jesus begins, “In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.” Most likely, Mark’s Gospel ends without a single appearance by the resurrected Jesus. Mark shares the “meat and potatoes”of Jesus’ ministry by focusing on three main events: Jesus’ baptism, the Transfiguration, and the crucifixion. At each of these events, it is proclaimed that Jesus is the Son of God. As we follow Jesus and the disciples through Mark, we are shown both the truth of Jesus’ message: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” and how difficult it is for us to understand what that message means as we walk alongside a bewildered group of disciples.
The first act of Jesus’ ministry is the calling of Simon (who was renamed Peter), Andrew, James and John. As Jesus proclaims the message in the synagogues, casts out demons, and heals the sick, crowds become a problem. Jesus asks those he heals to tell noone and forbids the demons to speak, but “the more he ordered the crowds not to tell what he had done, the more zealously they proclaimed it.” (7:36) Although Jesus knows that he has limited time to spread his message, he is focused not on reaching the maximum number of people, but on preparing the disciples to proclaim a message that they are incapable of understanding. Jesus tells parables to the crowds, but only explains what they mean to the disciples. Six days before the Transfiguration, Jesus asks the disciples who the crowds say that he is and then who they think that he is. Peter answers correctly, and Jesus immediately warns the disciples not to tell anyone. This is followed by the first time that Jesus explains to them that he will be killed and resurrected. Peter’s response makes it clear why Jesus doesn’t want the disciples to speak publicly; they don’t get it.
It is not surprising that Peter, James and John are chosen to accompany Jesus at the Transfiguration. They are the three disciples most likely to share what they are thinking, no matter how foolish. They get a glimpse of the divine nature of Jesus, they see Moses and Elijah, and God makes the second of three Markan proclamations that Jesus is his son, yet they are told to “tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.” A few verses later, we learn that Jesus is avoiding the crowds in order to spend more time teaching the disciples, specifically about his betrayal, death and resurrection, but that they don’t understand and are afraid to ask. Chapter ten finds Jesus and the disciples on the way to Jerusalem. Jesus is again describing exactly what will happen to him once they arrive. The disciples seem to have moved from confusion into denial. James and John ask Jesus to save them seats next to his in heaven, and assure him that they are prepared to follow him there.
In Mark 13, Jesus tells the disciples that their opportunity to share the Good News will come when they too are, “dragged before the courts, beaten in the synagogues, and accused before governors and kings of being his followers.” They still won’t know what to say, but Jesus reassures them: “When they bring you to trial and hand you over, do not worry beforehand about what you are to say; but say whatever is given you at that time, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit.” After the Last Supper, Peter, James and John again accompany Jesus as he goes to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. They can’t stay awake, Jesus is arrested, and the disciples flee, disappearing from Mark’s Gospel. The angel at the tomb tells the women to give the disciples a message: “Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died.”
Words have a way of changing meaning over time. The interaction between Jesus and the disciples in no way resembles what we call teaching today. There is no attempt to quantify what the disciples are “learning” in order to measure their progress. On the surface, there is little evidence that they are learning anything as we understand the term.The standouts are Peter, James and John, who consistently ask the wrong questions and give the wrong answers. At the Transfiguration, they have glimpsed the “truth” of Jesus, yet they lack the words to express it. When Jesus does criticize the disciples, it is not their minds, but the hardness of their hearts that he points out. Jesus is not teaching them a set of skills, a style of speaking, or a method of problem-solving, though they regularly observe all three. The most important things that they learn will only be understood much later. It is fitting that Mark gives us no clue as to how things turned out. The fact that he is telling his story some 40 years after Jesus’ death and that we are still telling it today show that Jesus’ way of teaching worked. AMEN
At its core, Mark’s Gospel is the story of the education of the disciples. After a brief summary of John the Baptist’s teachings, the story of Jesus begins, “In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.” Most likely, Mark’s Gospel ends without a single appearance by the resurrected Jesus. Mark shares the “meat and potatoes”of Jesus’ ministry by focusing on three main events: Jesus’ baptism, the Transfiguration, and the crucifixion. At each of these events, it is proclaimed that Jesus is the Son of God. As we follow Jesus and the disciples through Mark, we are shown both the truth of Jesus’ message: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” and how difficult it is for us to understand what that message means as we walk alongside a bewildered group of disciples.
The first act of Jesus’ ministry is the calling of Simon (who was renamed Peter), Andrew, James and John. As Jesus proclaims the message in the synagogues, casts out demons, and heals the sick, crowds become a problem. Jesus asks those he heals to tell noone and forbids the demons to speak, but “the more he ordered the crowds not to tell what he had done, the more zealously they proclaimed it.” (7:36) Although Jesus knows that he has limited time to spread his message, he is focused not on reaching the maximum number of people, but on preparing the disciples to proclaim a message that they are incapable of understanding. Jesus tells parables to the crowds, but only explains what they mean to the disciples. Six days before the Transfiguration, Jesus asks the disciples who the crowds say that he is and then who they think that he is. Peter answers correctly, and Jesus immediately warns the disciples not to tell anyone. This is followed by the first time that Jesus explains to them that he will be killed and resurrected. Peter’s response makes it clear why Jesus doesn’t want the disciples to speak publicly; they don’t get it.
It is not surprising that Peter, James and John are chosen to accompany Jesus at the Transfiguration. They are the three disciples most likely to share what they are thinking, no matter how foolish. They get a glimpse of the divine nature of Jesus, they see Moses and Elijah, and God makes the second of three Markan proclamations that Jesus is his son, yet they are told to “tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.” A few verses later, we learn that Jesus is avoiding the crowds in order to spend more time teaching the disciples, specifically about his betrayal, death and resurrection, but that they don’t understand and are afraid to ask. Chapter ten finds Jesus and the disciples on the way to Jerusalem. Jesus is again describing exactly what will happen to him once they arrive. The disciples seem to have moved from confusion into denial. James and John ask Jesus to save them seats next to his in heaven, and assure him that they are prepared to follow him there.
In Mark 13, Jesus tells the disciples that their opportunity to share the Good News will come when they too are, “dragged before the courts, beaten in the synagogues, and accused before governors and kings of being his followers.” They still won’t know what to say, but Jesus reassures them: “When they bring you to trial and hand you over, do not worry beforehand about what you are to say; but say whatever is given you at that time, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit.” After the Last Supper, Peter, James and John again accompany Jesus as he goes to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. They can’t stay awake, Jesus is arrested, and the disciples flee, disappearing from Mark’s Gospel. The angel at the tomb tells the women to give the disciples a message: “Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died.”
Words have a way of changing meaning over time. The interaction between Jesus and the disciples in no way resembles what we call teaching today. There is no attempt to quantify what the disciples are “learning” in order to measure their progress. On the surface, there is little evidence that they are learning anything as we understand the term.The standouts are Peter, James and John, who consistently ask the wrong questions and give the wrong answers. At the Transfiguration, they have glimpsed the “truth” of Jesus, yet they lack the words to express it. When Jesus does criticize the disciples, it is not their minds, but the hardness of their hearts that he points out. Jesus is not teaching them a set of skills, a style of speaking, or a method of problem-solving, though they regularly observe all three. The most important things that they learn will only be understood much later. It is fitting that Mark gives us no clue as to how things turned out. The fact that he is telling his story some 40 years after Jesus’ death and that we are still telling it today show that Jesus’ way of teaching worked. AMEN
Epiphany 5: February 7, 2021
People were drawn to Jesus because he was a man who could make things happen. Simon must have known that when he brought Jesus to his home and his sick mother-in-law. By sundown on the first day of his ministry, “they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door.” Words like preacher, teacher, and healer are wholly inadequate to describe Jesus. Jesus did not stop healing in order to begin teaching or vice-versa.
At the end of today’s gospel, Jesus has gone off by himself to pray. He has not yet healed everyone in Capernaum, and there are also many who have not heard him teach. The expectation seems to be that he will stay here until he is finished. That is, of course, an unrealistic expectation, which is likely what Jesus was talking to God about. When the disciples tell him that everyone is waiting for his return, he replies, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” When we see the word “proclaim,” it is easy for us to see it as distinct from action and to conclude that Jesus was worried about his deeds overshadowing his words. As unlikely as it may seem, today’s churches sometimes allow themselves this worry -- the worry that if they are too generous or too lenient, that the whole city might also be gathered at their door, overwhelming their true mission.
Our passage concludes, “And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.” The first is an activity that continues in churches today, meeting with people in their congregations and proclaiming the message. It is easy to dismiss the second part, the casting out of demons, as a kind of sideshow -- a way to get butts in the pews so that they can be properly schooled. Jesus’ miracles, however, were practical in nature; Jesus embodied the good news and brought it in the form that best engaged the people -- some with feeding, some with accepting, some with preaching, all with loving, and some with healing.
As a church, we continue to struggle with what it is that we are called to do. Just as the people of Capernaum expected Jesus to remain there for the “everyone” who continued to search for him, we can be drawn into the trap of waiting until we have all of our own issues taken care of before we reach out to others. Is it any wonder that churches lose energy when they are focused on assuring themselves of their standing in the eyes of god and managing their own existence? Again, people were drawn to Jesus because he could get things done. Unfortunately, we lack Jesus’ ability to heal. That doesn’t mean that our capacity is limited only to prayer. Barclay says that, “Prayer will never do our work for us; what it will do is to strengthen us for tasks which must be done.”
In the rare occasions when churches talk about ministry (as opposed to building maintenance and budgets), it is all too often centered on what the pastor should or should not do or on the possibility of making donations to one cause or another. We see church as primarily about the preaching, not action; the soul, not the body; heaven, not earth. Good preaching and youth programming will make God comprehensible, and people will want to keep coming and learning more. Fellowship is a welcome, but secondary, benefit that people will experience if they will only come inside.
As you may have noticed, the entire city is not gathered at the door of any church. Like Jesus, we need to take the message into the world. Our role is not to convert people; our role is to bring people into proximity with Jesus, to invite them into his presence, and to trust and pray that his transforming love and power will make the difference. AMEN
People were drawn to Jesus because he was a man who could make things happen. Simon must have known that when he brought Jesus to his home and his sick mother-in-law. By sundown on the first day of his ministry, “they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door.” Words like preacher, teacher, and healer are wholly inadequate to describe Jesus. Jesus did not stop healing in order to begin teaching or vice-versa.
At the end of today’s gospel, Jesus has gone off by himself to pray. He has not yet healed everyone in Capernaum, and there are also many who have not heard him teach. The expectation seems to be that he will stay here until he is finished. That is, of course, an unrealistic expectation, which is likely what Jesus was talking to God about. When the disciples tell him that everyone is waiting for his return, he replies, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” When we see the word “proclaim,” it is easy for us to see it as distinct from action and to conclude that Jesus was worried about his deeds overshadowing his words. As unlikely as it may seem, today’s churches sometimes allow themselves this worry -- the worry that if they are too generous or too lenient, that the whole city might also be gathered at their door, overwhelming their true mission.
Our passage concludes, “And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.” The first is an activity that continues in churches today, meeting with people in their congregations and proclaiming the message. It is easy to dismiss the second part, the casting out of demons, as a kind of sideshow -- a way to get butts in the pews so that they can be properly schooled. Jesus’ miracles, however, were practical in nature; Jesus embodied the good news and brought it in the form that best engaged the people -- some with feeding, some with accepting, some with preaching, all with loving, and some with healing.
As a church, we continue to struggle with what it is that we are called to do. Just as the people of Capernaum expected Jesus to remain there for the “everyone” who continued to search for him, we can be drawn into the trap of waiting until we have all of our own issues taken care of before we reach out to others. Is it any wonder that churches lose energy when they are focused on assuring themselves of their standing in the eyes of god and managing their own existence? Again, people were drawn to Jesus because he could get things done. Unfortunately, we lack Jesus’ ability to heal. That doesn’t mean that our capacity is limited only to prayer. Barclay says that, “Prayer will never do our work for us; what it will do is to strengthen us for tasks which must be done.”
In the rare occasions when churches talk about ministry (as opposed to building maintenance and budgets), it is all too often centered on what the pastor should or should not do or on the possibility of making donations to one cause or another. We see church as primarily about the preaching, not action; the soul, not the body; heaven, not earth. Good preaching and youth programming will make God comprehensible, and people will want to keep coming and learning more. Fellowship is a welcome, but secondary, benefit that people will experience if they will only come inside.
As you may have noticed, the entire city is not gathered at the door of any church. Like Jesus, we need to take the message into the world. Our role is not to convert people; our role is to bring people into proximity with Jesus, to invite them into his presence, and to trust and pray that his transforming love and power will make the difference. AMEN
Epiphany 4: January 31, 2021
When they are looking at passages of scripture, I encourage confirmation students to read the captions of not only the passage that they are reading, but also those on either side of it. Ideally, this will give them a little bit of context and a solid clue to help them understand the main idea of the passage. If they applied my advice to today’s Gospel reading, they would see that before this passage, “Jesus Calls the FIrst Disciples,” and after this passage, “Jesus Heals Many at Simon’s House.” The passage itself is headed, “The Man with an Unclean Spirit”. If I was grading the editors of the NRSV on the accuracy of their captions, this one would rate no higher than a “D”. Most other translations label this passage something like, “Jesus Heals the Man with an Unclean Spirit”. This would merit a much higher grade because it is parallel with the other two, and it tells us that this is the story of Jesus and the stuff that he did (did I just come up with the perfect subtitle for the Gospels?). Even so, that is not the “A” answer because neither the man nor his unclean spirit deserve to share the headline with Jesus. In fact, they can serve as a distraction and hide what really matters in this passage and in Mark’s overall message by leading us down a rabbit hole: What are evil spirits? What was a demon-possessed man doing in church? Where did the demon go after it left the man? What happened to the man…
This passage has a much more important job than to be the first of many “Jesus Heals” stories. At its core, it holds good and evil side-by-side and shows the authority that Jesus brings to the battle. It is an authority that “astounds” and “amazes” those who witness it, and it begins the spreading of Jesus’ fame to the surrounding regions. It is also the first step toward Jesus’ crucifixion because this authority causes discomfort. Evil spirits and diseases don’t stand a chance in the presence of Jesus. He dismisses this spirit with seven words, “Be silent, and come out of him!”. Throughout his ministry, he heals the sick through his touch, through his words, or through his presence. We don’t hear any of Jesus’ teaching at the synagogue, but we know that it reveals his authority and reveals the scribes lack of authority. The fact that Jesus refuses to bow to any authority but that of God simply makes him too big of a threat for the powers-that-be to tolerate.
But the conflict between Jesus, the religious officials, and the Roman government is old news -- ancient, actually. For this passage to be relevant to us, here, today, we need to acknowledge that we are all under some authority. In the words of Jan Walker, “Human personality is open to invasion from the outside. We are not only invaded by the words and ideas coming from other persons, but by the power of their personalities.” In the second lesson, Paul warns us that our own authority and knowledge can “puff us up” and become an idol. Without God, it is us against the world. At confirmation the other night, we talked a bit about God and the devil and the cartoon image of a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I asked them to consider the image with God on one shoulder and nothing on the other shoulder. That would mean either that evil comes from within us, or that turning our heads away from God is the same as submitting to the temptations of a world without God.
Although I’m fascinated by the question of whether or not the devil is real, that is beside the point today. The question for us at the heart of this text is whether we are prepared to recognize, along with Mark and the original witnesses, that Jesus of Nazareth is who the spirit said he was: the Holy One of God. AMEN
When they are looking at passages of scripture, I encourage confirmation students to read the captions of not only the passage that they are reading, but also those on either side of it. Ideally, this will give them a little bit of context and a solid clue to help them understand the main idea of the passage. If they applied my advice to today’s Gospel reading, they would see that before this passage, “Jesus Calls the FIrst Disciples,” and after this passage, “Jesus Heals Many at Simon’s House.” The passage itself is headed, “The Man with an Unclean Spirit”. If I was grading the editors of the NRSV on the accuracy of their captions, this one would rate no higher than a “D”. Most other translations label this passage something like, “Jesus Heals the Man with an Unclean Spirit”. This would merit a much higher grade because it is parallel with the other two, and it tells us that this is the story of Jesus and the stuff that he did (did I just come up with the perfect subtitle for the Gospels?). Even so, that is not the “A” answer because neither the man nor his unclean spirit deserve to share the headline with Jesus. In fact, they can serve as a distraction and hide what really matters in this passage and in Mark’s overall message by leading us down a rabbit hole: What are evil spirits? What was a demon-possessed man doing in church? Where did the demon go after it left the man? What happened to the man…
This passage has a much more important job than to be the first of many “Jesus Heals” stories. At its core, it holds good and evil side-by-side and shows the authority that Jesus brings to the battle. It is an authority that “astounds” and “amazes” those who witness it, and it begins the spreading of Jesus’ fame to the surrounding regions. It is also the first step toward Jesus’ crucifixion because this authority causes discomfort. Evil spirits and diseases don’t stand a chance in the presence of Jesus. He dismisses this spirit with seven words, “Be silent, and come out of him!”. Throughout his ministry, he heals the sick through his touch, through his words, or through his presence. We don’t hear any of Jesus’ teaching at the synagogue, but we know that it reveals his authority and reveals the scribes lack of authority. The fact that Jesus refuses to bow to any authority but that of God simply makes him too big of a threat for the powers-that-be to tolerate.
But the conflict between Jesus, the religious officials, and the Roman government is old news -- ancient, actually. For this passage to be relevant to us, here, today, we need to acknowledge that we are all under some authority. In the words of Jan Walker, “Human personality is open to invasion from the outside. We are not only invaded by the words and ideas coming from other persons, but by the power of their personalities.” In the second lesson, Paul warns us that our own authority and knowledge can “puff us up” and become an idol. Without God, it is us against the world. At confirmation the other night, we talked a bit about God and the devil and the cartoon image of a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I asked them to consider the image with God on one shoulder and nothing on the other shoulder. That would mean either that evil comes from within us, or that turning our heads away from God is the same as submitting to the temptations of a world without God.
Although I’m fascinated by the question of whether or not the devil is real, that is beside the point today. The question for us at the heart of this text is whether we are prepared to recognize, along with Mark and the original witnesses, that Jesus of Nazareth is who the spirit said he was: the Holy One of God. AMEN
Epiphany 2, January 17, 2021
Samuel’s story starts out as a “type.” Like Elizabeth and Sarah, Samuel’s mother, Hanah, is barren. Like Isaac, John the Baptist, and even Jesus, Samel is born of divine intervention and for a specific purpose. Samuel enters a world where, “The word of the Lord was rare … and visions were not widespread.” His mentor, Eli, is very much a product of that world. He is nearly blind, and his sons have disgraced his name by abusing their power at the temple. In back-to-back verses, “they (the sons of Eli) did not heed the voice of their father because the Lord desired to kill them. And the child Samuel grew in stature, and in favor both with the Lord and men.” If that last part sounds familiar, it should. Luke sums up Jesus’ development from the age of 13 until his baptism at the age of 30, “And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” Like the story of young Jesus at the temple, the calling of Samuel is a coming-of-age narrative. “Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him,” but that is about to change.
Although Samuel might not yet know the Lord, he has lived most of his life in the temple. He certainly knows the “language” of faith and prayer. When God calls, Samuel thinks that Eli is calling. Is that because the voice of God sounds like Eli’s voice, or because Eli’s is the voice that Samel expected to hear? Either way, it takes Eli a couple of tries before he figures out what is going on. When he does, he tells Samuel to, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” God clearly knows Samuel, and Samuel has reached the age where he is ready to listen. Once again, God has a voice in the world. It seems intentional that this voice comes from outside of the priestly succession, but that it is trained in the priestly tradition. Samuel is taking the Word out of the temple.
If this was a fairytale, Samuel and Eli would live happily ever after. Eli’s sight would be restored, his sons would repent, and his line would continue. Instead, the Lord says to Samuel: “Behold, I will do something in Israel at which both ears of everyone who hears it will tingle.” That something is the destruction of the house of Eli. Perhaps Eli’s finest lesson to Samuel is when he hears this and replies “It is the Lord. Let Him do what seems good to Him.” which is followed by, “So Samuel grew, and the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground.” It seems that Samuel’s calling arises from the ashes of Eli’s priesthood. It doesn’t get any easier for Samuel. Chapter 4 of 1 Samuel begins “And the word of Samuel came to all Israel,” and ends, “The glory has departed from Israel, for the ark of God has been captured. In between, Eli’s sons are killed in the battle over the Ark, and Eli dies when he hears the news. Samuel has to deal with the people of Israel when they demand a king against God’s wishes. When Saul loses his way, Samuel has to deal with the aftermath. When Samuel dies, the conflict between Saul and David is still raging.
What can we learn from the story of Samuel? Eugene Peterson says that, “biblical faith is founded in the reality that God addresses us personally.” That’s right -- God knows us personally, has known us personally since long before our birth, and takes a personal interest in each one of us. Secondly, we need to listen if we are going to hear God’s voice. We learn how to listen for and understand God’s voice in proximity to people who have come before us and who are with us now. It is not a matter of throwing a switch; it takes time, encouragement and practice. Prayers that are a list of things that we want from God aren’t going to get the job done. Finally, listening to and being obedient to God may not result in personal gain or prosperity. Our call might be to difficult work within our community, and we may not see results. Our story is but the blink of an eye within God’s story. AMEN
Samuel’s story starts out as a “type.” Like Elizabeth and Sarah, Samuel’s mother, Hanah, is barren. Like Isaac, John the Baptist, and even Jesus, Samel is born of divine intervention and for a specific purpose. Samuel enters a world where, “The word of the Lord was rare … and visions were not widespread.” His mentor, Eli, is very much a product of that world. He is nearly blind, and his sons have disgraced his name by abusing their power at the temple. In back-to-back verses, “they (the sons of Eli) did not heed the voice of their father because the Lord desired to kill them. And the child Samuel grew in stature, and in favor both with the Lord and men.” If that last part sounds familiar, it should. Luke sums up Jesus’ development from the age of 13 until his baptism at the age of 30, “And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” Like the story of young Jesus at the temple, the calling of Samuel is a coming-of-age narrative. “Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him,” but that is about to change.
Although Samuel might not yet know the Lord, he has lived most of his life in the temple. He certainly knows the “language” of faith and prayer. When God calls, Samuel thinks that Eli is calling. Is that because the voice of God sounds like Eli’s voice, or because Eli’s is the voice that Samel expected to hear? Either way, it takes Eli a couple of tries before he figures out what is going on. When he does, he tells Samuel to, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” God clearly knows Samuel, and Samuel has reached the age where he is ready to listen. Once again, God has a voice in the world. It seems intentional that this voice comes from outside of the priestly succession, but that it is trained in the priestly tradition. Samuel is taking the Word out of the temple.
If this was a fairytale, Samuel and Eli would live happily ever after. Eli’s sight would be restored, his sons would repent, and his line would continue. Instead, the Lord says to Samuel: “Behold, I will do something in Israel at which both ears of everyone who hears it will tingle.” That something is the destruction of the house of Eli. Perhaps Eli’s finest lesson to Samuel is when he hears this and replies “It is the Lord. Let Him do what seems good to Him.” which is followed by, “So Samuel grew, and the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground.” It seems that Samuel’s calling arises from the ashes of Eli’s priesthood. It doesn’t get any easier for Samuel. Chapter 4 of 1 Samuel begins “And the word of Samuel came to all Israel,” and ends, “The glory has departed from Israel, for the ark of God has been captured. In between, Eli’s sons are killed in the battle over the Ark, and Eli dies when he hears the news. Samuel has to deal with the people of Israel when they demand a king against God’s wishes. When Saul loses his way, Samuel has to deal with the aftermath. When Samuel dies, the conflict between Saul and David is still raging.
What can we learn from the story of Samuel? Eugene Peterson says that, “biblical faith is founded in the reality that God addresses us personally.” That’s right -- God knows us personally, has known us personally since long before our birth, and takes a personal interest in each one of us. Secondly, we need to listen if we are going to hear God’s voice. We learn how to listen for and understand God’s voice in proximity to people who have come before us and who are with us now. It is not a matter of throwing a switch; it takes time, encouragement and practice. Prayers that are a list of things that we want from God aren’t going to get the job done. Finally, listening to and being obedient to God may not result in personal gain or prosperity. Our call might be to difficult work within our community, and we may not see results. Our story is but the blink of an eye within God’s story. AMEN
Baptism of Jesus: January 10, 2021
Into what then were you baptized? In the Small Catechism, Luther says that baptism “works forgiveness of sins, rescues from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation to all who believe this, as the words and promises of God declare.” This opens up the chicken-and-egg question around infant vs. adult baptism; which comes first, baptism or belief? At the very least, choosing to have a child baptised would seem to indicate that the parents and sponsors share the beliefs of the church where the baptism takes place -- a desire to have their child become a part of a community of faith. In addition to belief, forgiveness of sins has a part in baptism. Luther says that baptism with water “indicates that the Old Adam in us should by daily contrition and repentance be drowned and die with all sins and evil desires, and that a new man should daily emerge and arise to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.” The shorter version of the Thanksgiving for Baptism in the funeral service reads: “All who are baptized into Christ have put on Christ. In his/her baptism, ________ was clothed with Christ. In the day of Christ’s coming, she/he shall be clothed with glory.”
The image of putting on Christ is wonderful, whether you picture it as a suit of armor or a fuzzy sweater. Speaking of prepositions, verse eight can be read either as, “I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” ,or “I have baptized you in water, but he will baptize you in the Holy Spirit.” I am not an advocate of baptism by immersion, but the image of Jesus being plunged into and emerging from the River Jordan is certainly stronger than: “John dipped the tips of his fingers into the lukewarm water that one of the ladies had kindly brought up from the kitchen in a coffee pot. As he reached out to catch the drops with the embroidered cloth from ChurchSupplies.com…” The idea of being baptized “in” rather than “with” the Spirit is equally appealing. One final note about prepositions -- If the Greek is properly translated, the Spirit descends into, not on Jesus. As William Placher says, the point is that "Something entered Jesus, not that a bird perched on his head."
At the baptism of Jesus, the heavens are torn apart and the Spirit enters Jesus; ancient prayers are answered and there is new creation. God’s promise, “They will be my people and I will be their God” has been stated many times in scripture. Jesus is that promise made flesh as he was both halves of the covenant -- God’s and man’s. This is what we have been baptized into. I mentioned the connection between baptism and faith earlier. According to Alexander Schmemann, “The essential question about faith in its relationship to the sacrament of baptism is: what faith, and even more precisely, whose faith? And the equally essential answer to this question is: it is Christ’s faith given to us, becoming our faith and our desire… Through the Holy Spirit, in baptism we are given the faith of Jesus.”
Like Holy Communion, baptism connects us to creation through Jesus. The thanksgiving at the font during the baptism service reads: “We give you thanks, O God, for in the beginning your Spirit moved over the waters and by your Word you created the world, calling forth life in which you took delight. Through the waters of the flood you delivered Noah and his family, and through the sea you led your people Israel from slavery into freedom. In the river Jordan your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the Holy Spirit. By the baptism of Jesus’ death and resurrection you set us free from the power of sin and death and raise us up to live in you. Pour out your Holy Spirit, the power of your living Word, that those who are washed in the waters of baptism may be given new life. To you be given honor and praise through Jesus Christ our Lord, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, now and forever. “ We are God’s people, with whom he is well pleased. AMEN
Into what then were you baptized? In the Small Catechism, Luther says that baptism “works forgiveness of sins, rescues from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation to all who believe this, as the words and promises of God declare.” This opens up the chicken-and-egg question around infant vs. adult baptism; which comes first, baptism or belief? At the very least, choosing to have a child baptised would seem to indicate that the parents and sponsors share the beliefs of the church where the baptism takes place -- a desire to have their child become a part of a community of faith. In addition to belief, forgiveness of sins has a part in baptism. Luther says that baptism with water “indicates that the Old Adam in us should by daily contrition and repentance be drowned and die with all sins and evil desires, and that a new man should daily emerge and arise to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.” The shorter version of the Thanksgiving for Baptism in the funeral service reads: “All who are baptized into Christ have put on Christ. In his/her baptism, ________ was clothed with Christ. In the day of Christ’s coming, she/he shall be clothed with glory.”
The image of putting on Christ is wonderful, whether you picture it as a suit of armor or a fuzzy sweater. Speaking of prepositions, verse eight can be read either as, “I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” ,or “I have baptized you in water, but he will baptize you in the Holy Spirit.” I am not an advocate of baptism by immersion, but the image of Jesus being plunged into and emerging from the River Jordan is certainly stronger than: “John dipped the tips of his fingers into the lukewarm water that one of the ladies had kindly brought up from the kitchen in a coffee pot. As he reached out to catch the drops with the embroidered cloth from ChurchSupplies.com…” The idea of being baptized “in” rather than “with” the Spirit is equally appealing. One final note about prepositions -- If the Greek is properly translated, the Spirit descends into, not on Jesus. As William Placher says, the point is that "Something entered Jesus, not that a bird perched on his head."
At the baptism of Jesus, the heavens are torn apart and the Spirit enters Jesus; ancient prayers are answered and there is new creation. God’s promise, “They will be my people and I will be their God” has been stated many times in scripture. Jesus is that promise made flesh as he was both halves of the covenant -- God’s and man’s. This is what we have been baptized into. I mentioned the connection between baptism and faith earlier. According to Alexander Schmemann, “The essential question about faith in its relationship to the sacrament of baptism is: what faith, and even more precisely, whose faith? And the equally essential answer to this question is: it is Christ’s faith given to us, becoming our faith and our desire… Through the Holy Spirit, in baptism we are given the faith of Jesus.”
Like Holy Communion, baptism connects us to creation through Jesus. The thanksgiving at the font during the baptism service reads: “We give you thanks, O God, for in the beginning your Spirit moved over the waters and by your Word you created the world, calling forth life in which you took delight. Through the waters of the flood you delivered Noah and his family, and through the sea you led your people Israel from slavery into freedom. In the river Jordan your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the Holy Spirit. By the baptism of Jesus’ death and resurrection you set us free from the power of sin and death and raise us up to live in you. Pour out your Holy Spirit, the power of your living Word, that those who are washed in the waters of baptism may be given new life. To you be given honor and praise through Jesus Christ our Lord, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, now and forever. “ We are God’s people, with whom he is well pleased. AMEN
Christmas 2: January 3, 2021
So, what do you know for sure today? I don’t know about you, but I hear this as a greeting fairly regularly. My standard answer is something along the lines of: less than I knew yesterday, not much, or just enough to be dangerous. What if we took the question seriously? What do we know with absolute certainty? What do you think would happen if we each put together a list of five things that we know for sure and then took turns sharing our lists? My guess is that we would end up discussing the nature of truth. At some level, our lives must rest on some foundational beliefs or truths.
Let’s start with something that seems like an undeniable truth -- everyone who lives also dies. Even if we choose to ignore this truth, it is bound to intrude in our lives from time to time as close calls or the deaths of loved ones remind us of our own mortality. We can deal with that in any number of ways, from living carelessly because “when it is our time to go, there is nothing to do about it anyway,” to being extremely cautious in order to avoid risks. If we throw in as truth that our lives are a gift from God, there is still a great deal of room for personal interpretation. We might understand this to mean that our lives are precious and shouldn’t be wasted. Conversely, we can decide that gifts are meant to be enjoyed, so we should wring as much happiness out of ours as we possibly can. In a sense, we can live as if we owe a debt to God, or we can live as if God owes a debt to us.
There are several things that the writer of John knew for sure. He knew that the Word was eternal; the voice that spoke creation into being has never been silenced. He knew that the Word became flesh in the person of Jesus, making it possible for us to glimpse the Glory of God. Finally, he knew that “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” Matthew and Luke began their gospels with the Nativity as a way to show us how God entered the world.. John begins with the Incarnation, the Word made flesh, which tells us what it all means.
Because the Word is eternal, we can know for sure that God has never changed. Jesus didn’t have to come because Moses hadn’t been able to talk God out of his crabbiness or because Adam hadn’t been able to resist temptation; Jesus didn’t come to provide a conduit between the physical world and the spiritual world; Jesus came to the material world to remind us that, as it was in the beginning, God’s creation is good. Although Jesus never gave in to temptation, his life gives us assurance that God understands and has experienced our frailty and need.
Our glimpse of the Glory of God comes through Jesus, but it has existed since God declared, “Let there be light.” Light can make us uncomfortable when it reveals that some of the things that we claim to know for sure about ourselves are untrue, which forces us to face the fact that much of what we know for sure about other people is also untrue. That is good and necessary, but God did not send the light to punish us. John doesn’t get specific about the darkness, but we can all probably fill that in from experience. The light is meant to help us understand that, while the darkness can be attractive, it will destroy us in the end.
The knowledge of God’s grace is the most important of all. One thing that we should all know for sure is that we will always need grace and forgiveness, not because we are particularly bad people, but because grace is what frees us from the fear that keeps us from growing. The good news is that God never tires of doling out His grace. God will never leave us, never give up on us. Jesus shows us how God expresses God’s power: Instead of destroying suffering, he shows that suffering cannot destroy us. Jesus’ resurrection illustrates how God’s power works. It does not eliminate death. It simply takes away death’s finality. God’s way of dealing with our suffering is to accept it, share it, and then use it. And that’s the way he dealt with our sin too. AMEN
So, what do you know for sure today? I don’t know about you, but I hear this as a greeting fairly regularly. My standard answer is something along the lines of: less than I knew yesterday, not much, or just enough to be dangerous. What if we took the question seriously? What do we know with absolute certainty? What do you think would happen if we each put together a list of five things that we know for sure and then took turns sharing our lists? My guess is that we would end up discussing the nature of truth. At some level, our lives must rest on some foundational beliefs or truths.
Let’s start with something that seems like an undeniable truth -- everyone who lives also dies. Even if we choose to ignore this truth, it is bound to intrude in our lives from time to time as close calls or the deaths of loved ones remind us of our own mortality. We can deal with that in any number of ways, from living carelessly because “when it is our time to go, there is nothing to do about it anyway,” to being extremely cautious in order to avoid risks. If we throw in as truth that our lives are a gift from God, there is still a great deal of room for personal interpretation. We might understand this to mean that our lives are precious and shouldn’t be wasted. Conversely, we can decide that gifts are meant to be enjoyed, so we should wring as much happiness out of ours as we possibly can. In a sense, we can live as if we owe a debt to God, or we can live as if God owes a debt to us.
There are several things that the writer of John knew for sure. He knew that the Word was eternal; the voice that spoke creation into being has never been silenced. He knew that the Word became flesh in the person of Jesus, making it possible for us to glimpse the Glory of God. Finally, he knew that “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” Matthew and Luke began their gospels with the Nativity as a way to show us how God entered the world.. John begins with the Incarnation, the Word made flesh, which tells us what it all means.
Because the Word is eternal, we can know for sure that God has never changed. Jesus didn’t have to come because Moses hadn’t been able to talk God out of his crabbiness or because Adam hadn’t been able to resist temptation; Jesus didn’t come to provide a conduit between the physical world and the spiritual world; Jesus came to the material world to remind us that, as it was in the beginning, God’s creation is good. Although Jesus never gave in to temptation, his life gives us assurance that God understands and has experienced our frailty and need.
Our glimpse of the Glory of God comes through Jesus, but it has existed since God declared, “Let there be light.” Light can make us uncomfortable when it reveals that some of the things that we claim to know for sure about ourselves are untrue, which forces us to face the fact that much of what we know for sure about other people is also untrue. That is good and necessary, but God did not send the light to punish us. John doesn’t get specific about the darkness, but we can all probably fill that in from experience. The light is meant to help us understand that, while the darkness can be attractive, it will destroy us in the end.
The knowledge of God’s grace is the most important of all. One thing that we should all know for sure is that we will always need grace and forgiveness, not because we are particularly bad people, but because grace is what frees us from the fear that keeps us from growing. The good news is that God never tires of doling out His grace. God will never leave us, never give up on us. Jesus shows us how God expresses God’s power: Instead of destroying suffering, he shows that suffering cannot destroy us. Jesus’ resurrection illustrates how God’s power works. It does not eliminate death. It simply takes away death’s finality. God’s way of dealing with our suffering is to accept it, share it, and then use it. And that’s the way he dealt with our sin too. AMEN
Christmas 1, December 27
Since 1969, the Catholic church has observed the Feast of the Holy Family on a Sunday between Christmas and New Year’s. The primary purpose of this feast is to present the Holy Family as a model for Christian families. Many Lutheran pastors take the Sunday after Christmas off so that they can step away from the obligations of leading services and spend time with their own families. Of course, many church members also take the Sunday after Christmas off. For many families, Christmas Eve at church is when the finish line of the Christmas season comes into view. The presents have been bought and wrapped, family has arrived, and the different parts of the meal are in the refrigerator or the oven. Depending on where Christmas falls in the week, Sunday is a much-needed day of rest from travelling home, cleaning up, returning gifts that weren’t quite right, shopping after-Christmas sales, and finishing the last of the leftovers.
For most of us, Christmas is, above all, a time of traditions. Where and when we gather, what we eat, and how and when we exchange gifts are generally considered to be “sacred.” As children grow up and begin their own families, Christmas can become especially stressful as the traditions of multiple families need to be honored, or new traditions need to begin. This year is especially difficult because so many of our traditions have been disrupted, and tradition is how we honor our past.
In today’s gospel reading, Mary and Joseph are honoring their faith’s traditions by bringing Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem. Of all of the scenes of Jesus’ childhood, why do you suppose that Luke included this one? He has already had angels appear both to Mary and Zechariah to make it clear who Jesus is, and adding two senior citizens for verification seems unnecessary and less than action-packed. Part of the reason must be to show the Holy Family as a connection between tradition, which often looks backward, and hope, which generally looks forward. Keep in mind that the Holy Family is not at their synagogue or “home church” surrounded by family and neighbors. They are at the Temple, the only Temple, in Jerusalem. The worship service does not revolve around them. The fact that they were able to provide only doves and not a lamb as an offering shows that they were poor and ordinary. It is likely that others who were there for the same reason were better dressed and more important in the community. Even so, Simeon and Anna are drawn to them, and they are surprised, even though they have been told individually and together that their child is the Messiah. Both the end of Simeon’s blessing, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” and the end of the passage, “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” give us important information about tradition.
Simeon tells us that we must fall before we rise, but that falling can and will be overcome. The conclusion shows us that Jesus and his parents grew into their roles. Mary and Joseph had agreed to serve as the parents of the Messiah, but they would only learn what that meant through experience. Their first step, bringing Jesus to the Temple, shows that they understood that what they were doing fell within God’s covenant with His people. Jesus did not appear in the world fully formed; He grew in strength and wisdom in the favor of the Lord. This is how the Holy Family serves as role models for us within our own families and as a church. Tradition doesn’t hold us in one place, it shows us the direction in which our ancestors were moving, the direction that God has been moving us since the beginning. AMEN
Since 1969, the Catholic church has observed the Feast of the Holy Family on a Sunday between Christmas and New Year’s. The primary purpose of this feast is to present the Holy Family as a model for Christian families. Many Lutheran pastors take the Sunday after Christmas off so that they can step away from the obligations of leading services and spend time with their own families. Of course, many church members also take the Sunday after Christmas off. For many families, Christmas Eve at church is when the finish line of the Christmas season comes into view. The presents have been bought and wrapped, family has arrived, and the different parts of the meal are in the refrigerator or the oven. Depending on where Christmas falls in the week, Sunday is a much-needed day of rest from travelling home, cleaning up, returning gifts that weren’t quite right, shopping after-Christmas sales, and finishing the last of the leftovers.
For most of us, Christmas is, above all, a time of traditions. Where and when we gather, what we eat, and how and when we exchange gifts are generally considered to be “sacred.” As children grow up and begin their own families, Christmas can become especially stressful as the traditions of multiple families need to be honored, or new traditions need to begin. This year is especially difficult because so many of our traditions have been disrupted, and tradition is how we honor our past.
In today’s gospel reading, Mary and Joseph are honoring their faith’s traditions by bringing Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem. Of all of the scenes of Jesus’ childhood, why do you suppose that Luke included this one? He has already had angels appear both to Mary and Zechariah to make it clear who Jesus is, and adding two senior citizens for verification seems unnecessary and less than action-packed. Part of the reason must be to show the Holy Family as a connection between tradition, which often looks backward, and hope, which generally looks forward. Keep in mind that the Holy Family is not at their synagogue or “home church” surrounded by family and neighbors. They are at the Temple, the only Temple, in Jerusalem. The worship service does not revolve around them. The fact that they were able to provide only doves and not a lamb as an offering shows that they were poor and ordinary. It is likely that others who were there for the same reason were better dressed and more important in the community. Even so, Simeon and Anna are drawn to them, and they are surprised, even though they have been told individually and together that their child is the Messiah. Both the end of Simeon’s blessing, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” and the end of the passage, “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” give us important information about tradition.
Simeon tells us that we must fall before we rise, but that falling can and will be overcome. The conclusion shows us that Jesus and his parents grew into their roles. Mary and Joseph had agreed to serve as the parents of the Messiah, but they would only learn what that meant through experience. Their first step, bringing Jesus to the Temple, shows that they understood that what they were doing fell within God’s covenant with His people. Jesus did not appear in the world fully formed; He grew in strength and wisdom in the favor of the Lord. This is how the Holy Family serves as role models for us within our own families and as a church. Tradition doesn’t hold us in one place, it shows us the direction in which our ancestors were moving, the direction that God has been moving us since the beginning. AMEN
Advent 4: December 20
Being afraid of the appearance of an angel seems like a logical response, whether you are a privileged priest, a young girl, or a gnarly old shepherd. In fact, I wonder if Mary was the first young woman Gabriel approached. Before you dismiss this question as idle, pointless speculation, spend a moment with me thinking about what we know about Mary. She was young, likely in her early teens. She was betrothed to Joseph, which means that her family had arranged for her to be married to a man who was likely much older. She was from a small town. She probably couldn’t read, and the only printed scriptures would have been on scrolls in the local tabernacle, but she would have been familiar with the Torah. In short, everything about her screams (or mumbles) “average.” This is not God answering the prayers of a desperate, faithful woman like Sarah or Elizabeth. Until it was the result of the consummation of her marriage, the last thing that Mary would have wanted was a baby….
Up to this point, Mary’s life had followed a predictable path. Why would she welcome this interruption when she knew that Joseph would likely divorce her (although they were not yet married, only divorce could end a betrothal), her family and community would, at the very least be ashamed of her and, in the worst case, they would be legally justified if they chose to kill her by stoning? Beyond that, how could someone so obviously unqualified as herself possibly become the mother of the Son of God. But she doesn’t argue, she simply asked, “how will this work?”.
We have heard this story so many times that we are no longer surprised that she said yes. Well, she actually said something like, “let it be done to me according to your word,” which would have been a typical way of conceding that one had lost an argument or of concluding a discussion that was going nowhere -- something like, “as you wish,” “if you say so,” or “thy will be done.” Gabriel’s clinching argument? “nothing will be impossible with God”.
Luke wants to be sure that we know that Mary is not blessed because she is going to be the physical mother of Jesus, but because she believed God’s word. What if I told you that Mary was not the second, third, or fourth person to receive Gabriels offer, but only one of countless people -- you included? I began this sermon: “ Greetings, favored ones! The Lord is with you.” Almost any excuse that you might use to get out of this: age, education, physical attractiveness, physical fitness, interpersonal skills… is worthless. Not only does God love you in a general sort of way, God knows you and notices you. You are important to God. The Lord is with you, but the Lord wants more. Mary submitted to the Lord’s request, but that was far from the end. Pregnancy isn’t easy today. It must have been terrifying and exhausting for Mary. She walked 100 miles to give birth among livestock with only her husband by her side. A king wanted her son dead, and her family had to spend years hiding out in a strange country, and that was only the beginning of the uncertainties and indignities that Mary would experience as the mother of Jesus, and it all culminated when she stood helplessly by as he was nailed to a cross and killed as a criminal.
Saying that we are Christians isn’t following God any more than deciding to have a baby is having a baby. God’s calling is always like Mary’s : God asks to become real in us, to take on flesh in our lives. Unpacking what that means is the task of a lifetime of faithful pondering. Begin by reminding yourself not to be afraid because nothing will be impossible with God. AMEN
Being afraid of the appearance of an angel seems like a logical response, whether you are a privileged priest, a young girl, or a gnarly old shepherd. In fact, I wonder if Mary was the first young woman Gabriel approached. Before you dismiss this question as idle, pointless speculation, spend a moment with me thinking about what we know about Mary. She was young, likely in her early teens. She was betrothed to Joseph, which means that her family had arranged for her to be married to a man who was likely much older. She was from a small town. She probably couldn’t read, and the only printed scriptures would have been on scrolls in the local tabernacle, but she would have been familiar with the Torah. In short, everything about her screams (or mumbles) “average.” This is not God answering the prayers of a desperate, faithful woman like Sarah or Elizabeth. Until it was the result of the consummation of her marriage, the last thing that Mary would have wanted was a baby….
Up to this point, Mary’s life had followed a predictable path. Why would she welcome this interruption when she knew that Joseph would likely divorce her (although they were not yet married, only divorce could end a betrothal), her family and community would, at the very least be ashamed of her and, in the worst case, they would be legally justified if they chose to kill her by stoning? Beyond that, how could someone so obviously unqualified as herself possibly become the mother of the Son of God. But she doesn’t argue, she simply asked, “how will this work?”.
We have heard this story so many times that we are no longer surprised that she said yes. Well, she actually said something like, “let it be done to me according to your word,” which would have been a typical way of conceding that one had lost an argument or of concluding a discussion that was going nowhere -- something like, “as you wish,” “if you say so,” or “thy will be done.” Gabriel’s clinching argument? “nothing will be impossible with God”.
Luke wants to be sure that we know that Mary is not blessed because she is going to be the physical mother of Jesus, but because she believed God’s word. What if I told you that Mary was not the second, third, or fourth person to receive Gabriels offer, but only one of countless people -- you included? I began this sermon: “ Greetings, favored ones! The Lord is with you.” Almost any excuse that you might use to get out of this: age, education, physical attractiveness, physical fitness, interpersonal skills… is worthless. Not only does God love you in a general sort of way, God knows you and notices you. You are important to God. The Lord is with you, but the Lord wants more. Mary submitted to the Lord’s request, but that was far from the end. Pregnancy isn’t easy today. It must have been terrifying and exhausting for Mary. She walked 100 miles to give birth among livestock with only her husband by her side. A king wanted her son dead, and her family had to spend years hiding out in a strange country, and that was only the beginning of the uncertainties and indignities that Mary would experience as the mother of Jesus, and it all culminated when she stood helplessly by as he was nailed to a cross and killed as a criminal.
Saying that we are Christians isn’t following God any more than deciding to have a baby is having a baby. God’s calling is always like Mary’s : God asks to become real in us, to take on flesh in our lives. Unpacking what that means is the task of a lifetime of faithful pondering. Begin by reminding yourself not to be afraid because nothing will be impossible with God. AMEN
Advent 3: December 13
Any pastor worth his salt has mentioned that Advent is a time of waiting and of preparation several times by this, the third Sunday of Advent. You have also been reminded that Advent is about more than a buildup to Christmas; it is a time to look forward to the coming of the Kingdom of God in light of everything that has come before, from creation itself through the nativity, the baptism, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus, and even all that has happened since then. It is the perfect time to ask some questions about ourselves, our congregations, and the church universal.
Let’s begin with the question, “What are we waiting for?” The simple answer is that we are waiting for Jesus to come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. OK, so I borrowed that answer from the Nicene Creed. Let me get all Martin Luther/pastor-as-confirmation-instructor for a minute and ask, “what does this mean?” I like the images from the second verse of hymn 251, “To all who live in holy fear your mercy ever flows. With mighty arm you dash the proud, their scheming hearts expose. The ruthless you have cast aside, the lowly throned instead; the humby filled with all good things, the rich sent off unfed.” I also identify with the title of the hymn, My Soul Proclaims Your Greatness. Sure, I believe that Jesus will return and that there will be a day of reckoning -- for those who have it coming. I just hope that those of us drawing up our chairs for the eternal feast are able to watch the proud, the ruthless, and the rich as they realize that we are in and they are out.
OK, maybe I am exaggerating a bit, but there is definitely an attractiveness to the idea of a heavenly “reward”. Let’s move on to a different question. I know that God isn’t lost, but are we looking for him? At confirmation this week the opening question was, “Where have you seen God lately?”. Most of us had answers to the first question, even if it was “I’m sure that I have, but I don’t remember where” . All of creation is God’s, so we are likely to see God almost anywhere if we are looking for him. Those of us who answered all gave positive examples, so I don’t think that we are looking for an angry God, so that’s encouraging. I didn’t know that I had a follow-up question until I had heard the answers; “What did you do when you saw God?”. None of us really had an answer for that one. I told the students that if I saw one of them at Wal-Mart, I would certainly respond either by greeting them or by ducking around a corner in hopes that they wouldn’t spot me. I imagine that our most common response to God sightings would be gratitude or thankfulness.
Have we reached the point in the sermon where you have begun to wonder where I am going with this? I know that I have, so let me try to bring this all together. Does our understanding of God as being present in all of creation make us take God for granted? Do we see God (or even think about God) only when we see something that pleases us or when things go well? Do we really believe that God has an active interest in what is going on in this world -- an interest that reaches this exact time and place? Does what we think, say, and do, how we treat one another, how we interact with nature, how we live our lives have any impact on the coming of the Kingdom of God? John the Baptist saw his life’s purpose as preparing the way, of pointing toward the light. What are we waiting for? Will we know it when we see it, or will we miss it? Can we take that risk?
The preceding paragraph consists of ten sentences, eight of which are questions. I hope that you do not either attempt to answer them all or dismiss them all. If one of them sticks in your mind, consider the time that you have spent reading or listening to this message well spent. AMEN
Any pastor worth his salt has mentioned that Advent is a time of waiting and of preparation several times by this, the third Sunday of Advent. You have also been reminded that Advent is about more than a buildup to Christmas; it is a time to look forward to the coming of the Kingdom of God in light of everything that has come before, from creation itself through the nativity, the baptism, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus, and even all that has happened since then. It is the perfect time to ask some questions about ourselves, our congregations, and the church universal.
Let’s begin with the question, “What are we waiting for?” The simple answer is that we are waiting for Jesus to come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. OK, so I borrowed that answer from the Nicene Creed. Let me get all Martin Luther/pastor-as-confirmation-instructor for a minute and ask, “what does this mean?” I like the images from the second verse of hymn 251, “To all who live in holy fear your mercy ever flows. With mighty arm you dash the proud, their scheming hearts expose. The ruthless you have cast aside, the lowly throned instead; the humby filled with all good things, the rich sent off unfed.” I also identify with the title of the hymn, My Soul Proclaims Your Greatness. Sure, I believe that Jesus will return and that there will be a day of reckoning -- for those who have it coming. I just hope that those of us drawing up our chairs for the eternal feast are able to watch the proud, the ruthless, and the rich as they realize that we are in and they are out.
OK, maybe I am exaggerating a bit, but there is definitely an attractiveness to the idea of a heavenly “reward”. Let’s move on to a different question. I know that God isn’t lost, but are we looking for him? At confirmation this week the opening question was, “Where have you seen God lately?”. Most of us had answers to the first question, even if it was “I’m sure that I have, but I don’t remember where” . All of creation is God’s, so we are likely to see God almost anywhere if we are looking for him. Those of us who answered all gave positive examples, so I don’t think that we are looking for an angry God, so that’s encouraging. I didn’t know that I had a follow-up question until I had heard the answers; “What did you do when you saw God?”. None of us really had an answer for that one. I told the students that if I saw one of them at Wal-Mart, I would certainly respond either by greeting them or by ducking around a corner in hopes that they wouldn’t spot me. I imagine that our most common response to God sightings would be gratitude or thankfulness.
Have we reached the point in the sermon where you have begun to wonder where I am going with this? I know that I have, so let me try to bring this all together. Does our understanding of God as being present in all of creation make us take God for granted? Do we see God (or even think about God) only when we see something that pleases us or when things go well? Do we really believe that God has an active interest in what is going on in this world -- an interest that reaches this exact time and place? Does what we think, say, and do, how we treat one another, how we interact with nature, how we live our lives have any impact on the coming of the Kingdom of God? John the Baptist saw his life’s purpose as preparing the way, of pointing toward the light. What are we waiting for? Will we know it when we see it, or will we miss it? Can we take that risk?
The preceding paragraph consists of ten sentences, eight of which are questions. I hope that you do not either attempt to answer them all or dismiss them all. If one of them sticks in your mind, consider the time that you have spent reading or listening to this message well spent. AMEN
Since this is the year of Mark in the lectionary, let’s begin with a bit of background. It is almost universally believed that Mark was the first of the Gospels to be written and that the authors of Matthew and Luke used it as a source. It is probably not the first book of the New Testament because it has no account of the birth of Jesus, and it has no appearances of the resurrected Jesus. The main events are Jesus’ baptism, the transfiguration, and the crucifixion. It begins with today’s gospel reading and ends with an angel at the tomb telling Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.” And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing” (Mark 16:6-8). If Mark was our only Gospel, I wonder if we would even celebrate Christmas or Easter.
Mark directs us to look back through Christ to John the baptist, and back through John to the prophets, and back through the prophets to the mind and heart and will of God himself -- instead of the beginning of Jesus’ story, Mark has taken us to the first words in the Bible, “In the beginning…” Mark’s gospel tells us that the Kingdom of God is coming without any invitations being issued, regardless of whether the world is ready for it or receptive to it. As Richard Boyce put it, “The bus has left the station. Get out of the way or get on the way.” For Mark, the life, ministry, death, and even the resurrection of Jesus Christ are not the end of the story. They are, instead, the events that set the gospel in motion.
The story begins in the wilderness with John the Baptist “in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” as a way to prepare the way of the Lord. It is telling that people are drawn to John and the River Jordan instead of to the religious officials and places of worship. The image of the river is rich: the people of Israel passed through the Red Sea as they fled the Egyptians, mythology includes crossing the River Styxx, water is essential to survival and it cleanses us. I like the idea of the river as an illustration of the communion of saints, of joining the story that began with creation and will culminate with the restoration of the Kingdom.
We are given a simple choice -- step into the river or don’t. The act of stepping into the water is tangible evidence of repentance, which Franklin Fry defines as awareness of the effect of disobedience. Scripture’s insight is that God allows us to choose whether to help his drama along or get in its way. We can either help or hinder the preparation for the coming of the Lord. We can stay on our own path, or step onto God’s path. What a responsibility, but what a gift!
Mark directs us to look back through Christ to John the baptist, and back through John to the prophets, and back through the prophets to the mind and heart and will of God himself -- instead of the beginning of Jesus’ story, Mark has taken us to the first words in the Bible, “In the beginning…” Mark’s gospel tells us that the Kingdom of God is coming without any invitations being issued, regardless of whether the world is ready for it or receptive to it. As Richard Boyce put it, “The bus has left the station. Get out of the way or get on the way.” For Mark, the life, ministry, death, and even the resurrection of Jesus Christ are not the end of the story. They are, instead, the events that set the gospel in motion.
The story begins in the wilderness with John the Baptist “in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” as a way to prepare the way of the Lord. It is telling that people are drawn to John and the River Jordan instead of to the religious officials and places of worship. The image of the river is rich: the people of Israel passed through the Red Sea as they fled the Egyptians, mythology includes crossing the River Styxx, water is essential to survival and it cleanses us. I like the idea of the river as an illustration of the communion of saints, of joining the story that began with creation and will culminate with the restoration of the Kingdom.
We are given a simple choice -- step into the river or don’t. The act of stepping into the water is tangible evidence of repentance, which Franklin Fry defines as awareness of the effect of disobedience. Scripture’s insight is that God allows us to choose whether to help his drama along or get in its way. We can either help or hinder the preparation for the coming of the Lord. We can stay on our own path, or step onto God’s path. What a responsibility, but what a gift!
Happy new year -- new liturgical year, that is. Like the calendar year, the liturgical year is a circle of seasons, and the idea of when to observe the beginning/end can seem somewhat arbitrary. Doesn’t it seem like it would make more sense to celebrate the new year in the spring with the resurrection of Jesus being accompanied by the warming of the soil and rebirth of nature? Many historians believe that Jesus was likely born in the spring, not on December 25th anyway. Ignoring the fact that spring doesn’t occur at the same time in the southern hemisphere as it does in the northern, a church year that kicked off with a celebration of the birth of christ in the spring, followed his ministry through the summer, observed the crucifixion at harvest time, and used the winter months to focus on the “time between”: the time between the resurrection and the ascension, the time between the ascension and Christ’s triumphant return seems logical to me.
But, since nobody has bothered to ask me, let’s talk about why we begin with Advent instead of Christmas and especially why advent begins with Jesus telling the disciples to watch, wait and work. If we view our lives as having a purpose, it makes sense to begin with the end in mind. Even though we understand that most undertakings don’t go exactly as planned, we know that it would be foolish to embark on a major project without a clear idea of what we want in the finished product. Being prepared means being ready for things that we didn’t prepare for. We often complain about the commercialization of Christmas and bristle at any suggestion that others might be offended by our holiday displays or our desire to say “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays,” we may even go so far as to express the desire to “put Christ back in Christmas,” when we would be better served examining what the birth of Christ really means.
The Nativity -- the first Advent, is meaningless without the triumphant return -- the second Advent. Jesus was not born to remind people annually to get into the “holiday spirit,” to be a little nicer to each other, to encourage spikes in annual giving and service. Christ came to make straight every crooked way, to right every wrong, and to reconcile all things to Himself. If Jesus is not returning to usher in the kingdom that he promised, he is reduced to the level of the Easter Bunny. Advent is meant to wake us up, to remind us that at the center of our faith we don’t find a celebration of the past, but a promise for the future that demands action in the present.
Of course, we cannot be constantly on the alert. For one thing, it is exhausting. For another, we have our lives to navigate; even if we view ourselves as servants of Christ, we are also sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, husbands and wives… as well as farmers, teachers, nurses, clerks at convenience stores… We all have our hands full. One of the neatest things that I read was, “Does anyone go through every day, wondering at morning, noon, and night if now is the time that someone long gone might return? Yes. People who are in love do that.” Fear is not enough to keep us alert over time. When we think about Jesus’ return in judgement, we don’t need to be afraid. It might be helpful to think about having company at your house. Jesus isn’t going to care if we have to move some dirty laundry off of the couch so that he has a place to sit down or if we’ve fallen a couple of days behind on cleaning the litter box, but he is coming, and he’s not calling ahead.
Advent reminds us that our lives have a purpose -- that even though Christ is with us, He is not with us as he once was or as He will be -- that there is more, that there is better. AMEN
But, since nobody has bothered to ask me, let’s talk about why we begin with Advent instead of Christmas and especially why advent begins with Jesus telling the disciples to watch, wait and work. If we view our lives as having a purpose, it makes sense to begin with the end in mind. Even though we understand that most undertakings don’t go exactly as planned, we know that it would be foolish to embark on a major project without a clear idea of what we want in the finished product. Being prepared means being ready for things that we didn’t prepare for. We often complain about the commercialization of Christmas and bristle at any suggestion that others might be offended by our holiday displays or our desire to say “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays,” we may even go so far as to express the desire to “put Christ back in Christmas,” when we would be better served examining what the birth of Christ really means.
The Nativity -- the first Advent, is meaningless without the triumphant return -- the second Advent. Jesus was not born to remind people annually to get into the “holiday spirit,” to be a little nicer to each other, to encourage spikes in annual giving and service. Christ came to make straight every crooked way, to right every wrong, and to reconcile all things to Himself. If Jesus is not returning to usher in the kingdom that he promised, he is reduced to the level of the Easter Bunny. Advent is meant to wake us up, to remind us that at the center of our faith we don’t find a celebration of the past, but a promise for the future that demands action in the present.
Of course, we cannot be constantly on the alert. For one thing, it is exhausting. For another, we have our lives to navigate; even if we view ourselves as servants of Christ, we are also sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, husbands and wives… as well as farmers, teachers, nurses, clerks at convenience stores… We all have our hands full. One of the neatest things that I read was, “Does anyone go through every day, wondering at morning, noon, and night if now is the time that someone long gone might return? Yes. People who are in love do that.” Fear is not enough to keep us alert over time. When we think about Jesus’ return in judgement, we don’t need to be afraid. It might be helpful to think about having company at your house. Jesus isn’t going to care if we have to move some dirty laundry off of the couch so that he has a place to sit down or if we’ve fallen a couple of days behind on cleaning the litter box, but he is coming, and he’s not calling ahead.
Advent reminds us that our lives have a purpose -- that even though Christ is with us, He is not with us as he once was or as He will be -- that there is more, that there is better. AMEN
Christ the King: November 22
Today we have the last of Jesus’ series of parables that were set off by the disciples’ question, “when will these things be? And what will be the sign of Your coming, and of the end of the age?” Jesus prefaces the stories by saying that even he doesn’t know the day or the hour of his return; it will come like a thief in the night. The parables stress division: the faithful from the evil and the wise from the foolish. It is apparent that some will enter into the joy of the master while others will weep and gnash their teeth eternally. Even though we don’t know the when or the where of judgement, it seems that the wise are prepared and that preparation involves actively using what God has given us to bring about an increase of some sort. We might expect this final parable to answer the question, “How will we know when we are ready?”
Well, maybe it does, and maybe it doesn’t. There is no consensus on who “all the nations” are. It can either be a term that unites -- everybody, or one that divides -- the gentiles. This is complicated by the king’s answer, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” The word translated family members, brethren or brothers can be a uniter or a divider as well. Jesus could be talking specifically about how the apostles are treated on their missions, or we can take the stance that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ. It is easy to look at this text as an answer to the question, “can people who are not Christians get into heaven?” and to answer that question, Yes, if they are kind and hospitable to those who need them, they are actually serving Jesus without knowing it. That interpretation leads to another question: Is more expected of those who have been baptized, or are there different levels of righteousness?
Having questions arise more quickly than answers is not a bad thing, in fact, it is the sign of an open mind. There are biblical scholars who can speak with authority in answering the questions that I have raised, but it is not essential for the average Christian to answer them all. It is better to look at them as opportunities for further study as your interest guides you. By the way, the answer to our original question, does this parable tell us how we will know whether or not we are ready for the final judgement, is no. Both the righteous and the wicked are surprised by the results. Neither group can remember when they saw the Lord hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and either did or did not respond.
Even an incomplete understanding of this parable can leave us with many valuable insights. It removes the idea that we will always know when we are doing the right thing because it will make us feel good or because we are getting tangible results. It reminds us that each person is made in the image of God, that we don’t need to wait for Jesus to return because He is already here and we can follow his commandments to love our neighbor as ourselves and to love one another as he has loved us by addressing the needs of others. Not only that, but, in the words of Teresa of Avila , “Christ has no body on earth now but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours; yours are the eyes through which he looks with compassion on the world; yours are the feet with which he walks to do good; yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world.” We are called to action above understanding, to deal not only with what we have done, but also with what we have left undone.
Most importantly, it helps us understand what it means to be God’s church. We are not the gatekeepers of the sacred, called to wait for people to approach us so that we can gift them with insight and wisdom. God is always already outside of any boundaries that we can create. The mission of bringing others to Christ doesn’t mean going out to fetch them. Instead, when we move toward them, we are moving toward God. AMEN
Today we have the last of Jesus’ series of parables that were set off by the disciples’ question, “when will these things be? And what will be the sign of Your coming, and of the end of the age?” Jesus prefaces the stories by saying that even he doesn’t know the day or the hour of his return; it will come like a thief in the night. The parables stress division: the faithful from the evil and the wise from the foolish. It is apparent that some will enter into the joy of the master while others will weep and gnash their teeth eternally. Even though we don’t know the when or the where of judgement, it seems that the wise are prepared and that preparation involves actively using what God has given us to bring about an increase of some sort. We might expect this final parable to answer the question, “How will we know when we are ready?”
Well, maybe it does, and maybe it doesn’t. There is no consensus on who “all the nations” are. It can either be a term that unites -- everybody, or one that divides -- the gentiles. This is complicated by the king’s answer, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” The word translated family members, brethren or brothers can be a uniter or a divider as well. Jesus could be talking specifically about how the apostles are treated on their missions, or we can take the stance that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ. It is easy to look at this text as an answer to the question, “can people who are not Christians get into heaven?” and to answer that question, Yes, if they are kind and hospitable to those who need them, they are actually serving Jesus without knowing it. That interpretation leads to another question: Is more expected of those who have been baptized, or are there different levels of righteousness?
Having questions arise more quickly than answers is not a bad thing, in fact, it is the sign of an open mind. There are biblical scholars who can speak with authority in answering the questions that I have raised, but it is not essential for the average Christian to answer them all. It is better to look at them as opportunities for further study as your interest guides you. By the way, the answer to our original question, does this parable tell us how we will know whether or not we are ready for the final judgement, is no. Both the righteous and the wicked are surprised by the results. Neither group can remember when they saw the Lord hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and either did or did not respond.
Even an incomplete understanding of this parable can leave us with many valuable insights. It removes the idea that we will always know when we are doing the right thing because it will make us feel good or because we are getting tangible results. It reminds us that each person is made in the image of God, that we don’t need to wait for Jesus to return because He is already here and we can follow his commandments to love our neighbor as ourselves and to love one another as he has loved us by addressing the needs of others. Not only that, but, in the words of Teresa of Avila , “Christ has no body on earth now but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours; yours are the eyes through which he looks with compassion on the world; yours are the feet with which he walks to do good; yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world.” We are called to action above understanding, to deal not only with what we have done, but also with what we have left undone.
Most importantly, it helps us understand what it means to be God’s church. We are not the gatekeepers of the sacred, called to wait for people to approach us so that we can gift them with insight and wisdom. God is always already outside of any boundaries that we can create. The mission of bringing others to Christ doesn’t mean going out to fetch them. Instead, when we move toward them, we are moving toward God. AMEN
Although storytelling is one of the most effective ways to send a message that will be memorable, it is untidy, and untidiness bothers those who define truth as something that can be broken down into a group of facts that can be proven or disproven. The more time that I have spent studying the parable of the talents, the more I have noticed the liberties that we take to make the stories of Jesus mean what we want them to mean. Let me try to show you what I mean.
The most common interpretation of this parable is that it is an allegory, a story where the characters stand for someone else. The master is Jesus. The slaves are Christians. The setting is the time between the ascension and the second coming. The slaves who have gained 100% return on investment are praised as good and faithful servants. The slave who hid his money is scolded and burns in hell forever. The rich get richer and the poor lose what little they have. The moral of the story? When Jesus returns in judgement, you had better have something to show for His investment in you unless you enjoy weeping and gnashing of teeth.
What if this isn’t a parable at all, but simply a story told to make a point? When we turn the manager into Jesus, we don’t give ourselves the chance to ask some fairly simple questions about the story like: Who is telling the truth about what kind of man the master is? Do we read verse 26, “But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter?” as a sarcastic response or as affirmation that the slave was right to be afraid and should have responded to his fear differently? Did the master punish the slave because the accusation was true or because it was made? What motivates the first two men to maximize the master’s investment? Love? Fear? Greed? If the master is Jesus, and the property was distributed according to ability to manage it, shouldn’t he have known that the third slave would bury the money and isn’t it then unfair to punish him for something that wasn’t really his fault?
I can’t help but wonder why the returns on investment were 100%, 100%, and 0%. I want you to spend a moment thinking about how the master would have responded if one of the slaves had made less than 100% profit. What if one of the slaves would have actually lost money? Would they be praised for their initiative in contrast to the slave who buried the money? Is inaction the greatest of all possible failures?
While I’m asking questions, let's deal with verse 29: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” I’ll begin with the smaller question: how do you take everything away from someone who has nothing? More importantly, an abundance of what? It can’t really be an abundance of salvation, can it? It is kind of like a riddle: What do you get more of when you give it away? It is said that it takes money to make money. Love is an obvious answer. Responsibility works in the sense that those who show that they are capable of handling much are often given more to handle. Knowledge or understanding are also possible answers. The more that we learn, the more that we can understand.
Whatever the answer, it involves entering into the joy of the master. As I conclude this non-explanation of the parable of the talents, I ask that you take some time in the coming days to think about that phrase and what it means to you. How do you envision entering into the joy of the Lord? AMEN
The most common interpretation of this parable is that it is an allegory, a story where the characters stand for someone else. The master is Jesus. The slaves are Christians. The setting is the time between the ascension and the second coming. The slaves who have gained 100% return on investment are praised as good and faithful servants. The slave who hid his money is scolded and burns in hell forever. The rich get richer and the poor lose what little they have. The moral of the story? When Jesus returns in judgement, you had better have something to show for His investment in you unless you enjoy weeping and gnashing of teeth.
What if this isn’t a parable at all, but simply a story told to make a point? When we turn the manager into Jesus, we don’t give ourselves the chance to ask some fairly simple questions about the story like: Who is telling the truth about what kind of man the master is? Do we read verse 26, “But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter?” as a sarcastic response or as affirmation that the slave was right to be afraid and should have responded to his fear differently? Did the master punish the slave because the accusation was true or because it was made? What motivates the first two men to maximize the master’s investment? Love? Fear? Greed? If the master is Jesus, and the property was distributed according to ability to manage it, shouldn’t he have known that the third slave would bury the money and isn’t it then unfair to punish him for something that wasn’t really his fault?
I can’t help but wonder why the returns on investment were 100%, 100%, and 0%. I want you to spend a moment thinking about how the master would have responded if one of the slaves had made less than 100% profit. What if one of the slaves would have actually lost money? Would they be praised for their initiative in contrast to the slave who buried the money? Is inaction the greatest of all possible failures?
While I’m asking questions, let's deal with verse 29: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” I’ll begin with the smaller question: how do you take everything away from someone who has nothing? More importantly, an abundance of what? It can’t really be an abundance of salvation, can it? It is kind of like a riddle: What do you get more of when you give it away? It is said that it takes money to make money. Love is an obvious answer. Responsibility works in the sense that those who show that they are capable of handling much are often given more to handle. Knowledge or understanding are also possible answers. The more that we learn, the more that we can understand.
Whatever the answer, it involves entering into the joy of the master. As I conclude this non-explanation of the parable of the talents, I ask that you take some time in the coming days to think about that phrase and what it means to you. How do you envision entering into the joy of the Lord? AMEN
Pentecost 23: November 8, 2020
The parable of the bridesmaids seems harsh. Shouldn’t the bridesmaids who had extra oil have shared it with those who were out? If the bridegroom is Jesus, wouldn’t the story work better if the “foolish” bridesmaids simply acknowledged their mistakes, throwing themselves on his mercy? It seems flat-out unchristian to lock anyone out of the party, especially for a seemingly minor oversight. Jesus tells this story to the disciples near the end of a long conversation about the end times. They have been warned repeatedly that false prophets will claim to know the timing of the apocalypse, but that even Jesus doesn’t know the day or the hour. Because the end will come at an unexpected time, they need to get ready and stay ready.
Reading this story today, I am reminded of just how exhausting it is to try to prepare for the uncertain. Will the kids be in school or at home? Will there be another shutdown? Who won the election? Do I have a mask in the car? Can we go to grandma’s for Thanksgiving? Should I shake hands? Nobody else is wearing a mask here, should I keep mine on, take it off, say something, leave? I don’t feel right; should I get tested? And on and on and on. The difference with Jesus is that we are not preparing for the uncertain, but for the certain.
It helps me to look at it through the eyes of a farmer. Instead of predicting the day when the ground will be ready for planting, the farmer gets equipment and seed ready. As the season progresses, the farmer does his or her best to tend to the crop in a timely manner, making adjustments as needed. If the crop fails one year, the farmer doesn’t fear that there will never be another harvest, he moves forward by preparing for the next part of the growing cycle. In short, you don’t wait to grease the baler until you see the first rain cloud.
The foolish virgins are more like me as a gardener. When spring comes, I get excited and buy a bunch of seeds. Some years that is as far as my enthusiasm takes me. Other years, I manage to get the seeds planted, but forget to water them at a critical time, let them get overtaken by weeds, or forget to harvest until it is too late. I have also lost vegetable crops to chickens and sheep. While others spend all winter enjoying what they have grown, nurtured, and canned or frozen, I am lucky to have a meal or two from my garden.
The idea that faith is something that needs attention isn’t all that earth- shattering. The consequences of neglecting our faith, on the other hand, should leave us shaken. This is especially true because the expectation of Christ’s return doesn’t carry the urgency that it once did. Advent is supposed to be a time both to celebrate the birth of Jesus and to prepare for His return, but it would certainly turn heads if we put a sign out front of the church that said, “the end is near”. The early church was constantly dealing with frustration from members that Jesus had not yet returned. Over 2,000 years have passed, so it is not surprising that we have stopped looking out the window. The fact remains, however, that Jesus will return and that we need to be prepared.
So what is the oil -- the thing that separated the wise from the foolish? I think that the best clue is that it is something that can’t be shared. We can’t ride the coattails of someone else’s faith into heaven. For the disciples, it means to get busy on the tasks that they have been given. According to Matthew, that means welcoming the stranger, feeding the hungry, visiting the sick and the imprisoned, and making disciples in order to bring the Kingdom nearer. According to Pope Francis, “What he asks of us is to be ready for the encounter—ready for an encounter, for a beautiful encounter, the encounter with Jesus, which means being able to see the signs of his presence, keeping our faith alive with prayer, with the sacraments, and taking care not to fall asleep so as to not forget about God. … Let us not fall asleep!” AMEN
The parable of the bridesmaids seems harsh. Shouldn’t the bridesmaids who had extra oil have shared it with those who were out? If the bridegroom is Jesus, wouldn’t the story work better if the “foolish” bridesmaids simply acknowledged their mistakes, throwing themselves on his mercy? It seems flat-out unchristian to lock anyone out of the party, especially for a seemingly minor oversight. Jesus tells this story to the disciples near the end of a long conversation about the end times. They have been warned repeatedly that false prophets will claim to know the timing of the apocalypse, but that even Jesus doesn’t know the day or the hour. Because the end will come at an unexpected time, they need to get ready and stay ready.
Reading this story today, I am reminded of just how exhausting it is to try to prepare for the uncertain. Will the kids be in school or at home? Will there be another shutdown? Who won the election? Do I have a mask in the car? Can we go to grandma’s for Thanksgiving? Should I shake hands? Nobody else is wearing a mask here, should I keep mine on, take it off, say something, leave? I don’t feel right; should I get tested? And on and on and on. The difference with Jesus is that we are not preparing for the uncertain, but for the certain.
It helps me to look at it through the eyes of a farmer. Instead of predicting the day when the ground will be ready for planting, the farmer gets equipment and seed ready. As the season progresses, the farmer does his or her best to tend to the crop in a timely manner, making adjustments as needed. If the crop fails one year, the farmer doesn’t fear that there will never be another harvest, he moves forward by preparing for the next part of the growing cycle. In short, you don’t wait to grease the baler until you see the first rain cloud.
The foolish virgins are more like me as a gardener. When spring comes, I get excited and buy a bunch of seeds. Some years that is as far as my enthusiasm takes me. Other years, I manage to get the seeds planted, but forget to water them at a critical time, let them get overtaken by weeds, or forget to harvest until it is too late. I have also lost vegetable crops to chickens and sheep. While others spend all winter enjoying what they have grown, nurtured, and canned or frozen, I am lucky to have a meal or two from my garden.
The idea that faith is something that needs attention isn’t all that earth- shattering. The consequences of neglecting our faith, on the other hand, should leave us shaken. This is especially true because the expectation of Christ’s return doesn’t carry the urgency that it once did. Advent is supposed to be a time both to celebrate the birth of Jesus and to prepare for His return, but it would certainly turn heads if we put a sign out front of the church that said, “the end is near”. The early church was constantly dealing with frustration from members that Jesus had not yet returned. Over 2,000 years have passed, so it is not surprising that we have stopped looking out the window. The fact remains, however, that Jesus will return and that we need to be prepared.
So what is the oil -- the thing that separated the wise from the foolish? I think that the best clue is that it is something that can’t be shared. We can’t ride the coattails of someone else’s faith into heaven. For the disciples, it means to get busy on the tasks that they have been given. According to Matthew, that means welcoming the stranger, feeding the hungry, visiting the sick and the imprisoned, and making disciples in order to bring the Kingdom nearer. According to Pope Francis, “What he asks of us is to be ready for the encounter—ready for an encounter, for a beautiful encounter, the encounter with Jesus, which means being able to see the signs of his presence, keeping our faith alive with prayer, with the sacraments, and taking care not to fall asleep so as to not forget about God. … Let us not fall asleep!” AMEN
All Saints: November 1, 2020
Welcome to the gathered members of the communion of saints. Today we remember the saints who have gone before us, the saints that are among us, and the saints who are yet to come. Through the work of Jesus, we have all been made holy, which makes us saints -- whether we feel like it or not, whether we act like it or not -- a saint is a Christian and a Christian is a saint. Our gospel reading is the beatitudes, which Matthew lays out as Jesus’ first teaching to both his disciples and the gathering crowds. It is set on a mountain so that we will compare the beatitudes with the ten commandments; Moses brought the law to the people and Jesus fulfilled the law. The beatitudes are not a checklist for us to follow; they are a description of the baptized, whether we recognize ourselves in it or not. That means that we really don’t need to understand exactly what it means to be poor in spirit, meek, hungry or thirsty. We don’t need to strive to mourn or be persecuted or reviled. Instead, we can focus on the blessings.
The best thing is that comfort, righteousness and mercy are available here and now, and that’s just the beginning. We are God’s children, heirs not only the earth, but also to the Kingdom. The first lesson gives us a glimpse into heaven, where people from every nation are gathered before the enthroned lamb. They are worshipping in the truest sense by rejoicing in the sheltering presence in which, “They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
Somehow, the beatitudes tell us that we are blessed in the same way, even though the Kingdom of God has not yet fully come to earth. As we continue to pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” we are assured that it is happening and that we are a part of it. The second reading says it much better: “we are God's children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed.” Even so, we are part of a loving family, and our potential is unlimited. The conclusion of that text brings us full circle to our sainthood: “What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.” As we gather to celebrate communion, remember that we are being washed in the blood of the lamb who is also our shepherd -- our Lord and Father Jesus Christ. AMEN
Welcome to the gathered members of the communion of saints. Today we remember the saints who have gone before us, the saints that are among us, and the saints who are yet to come. Through the work of Jesus, we have all been made holy, which makes us saints -- whether we feel like it or not, whether we act like it or not -- a saint is a Christian and a Christian is a saint. Our gospel reading is the beatitudes, which Matthew lays out as Jesus’ first teaching to both his disciples and the gathering crowds. It is set on a mountain so that we will compare the beatitudes with the ten commandments; Moses brought the law to the people and Jesus fulfilled the law. The beatitudes are not a checklist for us to follow; they are a description of the baptized, whether we recognize ourselves in it or not. That means that we really don’t need to understand exactly what it means to be poor in spirit, meek, hungry or thirsty. We don’t need to strive to mourn or be persecuted or reviled. Instead, we can focus on the blessings.
The best thing is that comfort, righteousness and mercy are available here and now, and that’s just the beginning. We are God’s children, heirs not only the earth, but also to the Kingdom. The first lesson gives us a glimpse into heaven, where people from every nation are gathered before the enthroned lamb. They are worshipping in the truest sense by rejoicing in the sheltering presence in which, “They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
Somehow, the beatitudes tell us that we are blessed in the same way, even though the Kingdom of God has not yet fully come to earth. As we continue to pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” we are assured that it is happening and that we are a part of it. The second reading says it much better: “we are God's children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed.” Even so, we are part of a loving family, and our potential is unlimited. The conclusion of that text brings us full circle to our sainthood: “What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.” As we gather to celebrate communion, remember that we are being washed in the blood of the lamb who is also our shepherd -- our Lord and Father Jesus Christ. AMEN
Reformation Sunday: October 25, 2020
Jesus was often referred to as a teacher, and we think of the disciples as students. A more accurate picture of their relationship would probably be that of master and apprentices. The disciples lived with Jesus, travelled with him, and worked alongside him. Jesus was preparing the disciples to carry on his work; they didn’t need to know facts and concepts, they were learning the essence of who Jesus was. He sometimes pulled them aside to explain things, but they often failed to understand until much later when the truth was revealed by events. The writing of the gospels was possible because the apostles had put Jesus’ teaching to work -- but there was even more to it than that.
Today’s gospel reading brings that home. If we abide in his word, we will truly be disciples, we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free. Since Jesus is the Word incarnate and the way, the truth and the light, there is really only one step to this process. So how do we do it? You know the term “book smart?” That is not what Jesus was after. He didn’t make the disciples memorize things, they never took a test, and he most certainly didn’t require sermon notes. Reading the Bible to better understand what Jesus said and did is an important step, but disciples learn so that they can do; they reflect on what Jesus has done and is still doing until it becomes theirs.
This might sound more like bondage and freedom to you, but think about it in terms of learning to do something that you enjoy -- especially something that connects you to others. Raising livestock is an example for me. I started out feeding the bottle lambs and jumping into the wool bags to pack them. I helped vaccinate and dehorn cattle, did chores and pitched manure. Later, dad helped me get started with my own flock of sheep and went to the bank with me to get a loan for a few head of cattle. When we finally got a place with a shed, it didn’t take long for me to buy some sheep. My kids all raised and showed animals, and, of course, I still have an active barnyard that I love to share with my grandchildren. Yes, sometimes it seems like work, but usually it just reminds me of time spent with my grandpa, my dad, my wife and my kids. Whenever I can, I work with kids and livestock. I can’t imagine my life without animals.
That’s the kind of commitment that Jesus is looking for -- to live a life that is centered on him that involves all of the other parts of our lives. We should learn more not out of a sense of obligation but because we hunger to know more in order to be able to do more. You might ask, “to do more what?” More of what gives your life direction and meaning and less of what holds us back, sin. Jesus speaks of freedom as the freedom of a child within a loving household where we are allowed to grow through trial and error because we don’t fear being shamed or judged -- the freedom to be in community with one another.
Soon, we will celebrate first communion. The sharing of the meal, of the body and blood of Christ, is the perfect opportunity to abide in Christ in community with one another and with all of the believers who have gone before us. Take advantage of this chance to give your sins to God and take his grace in return, to leave the altar free and cleansed. AMEN
Jesus was often referred to as a teacher, and we think of the disciples as students. A more accurate picture of their relationship would probably be that of master and apprentices. The disciples lived with Jesus, travelled with him, and worked alongside him. Jesus was preparing the disciples to carry on his work; they didn’t need to know facts and concepts, they were learning the essence of who Jesus was. He sometimes pulled them aside to explain things, but they often failed to understand until much later when the truth was revealed by events. The writing of the gospels was possible because the apostles had put Jesus’ teaching to work -- but there was even more to it than that.
Today’s gospel reading brings that home. If we abide in his word, we will truly be disciples, we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free. Since Jesus is the Word incarnate and the way, the truth and the light, there is really only one step to this process. So how do we do it? You know the term “book smart?” That is not what Jesus was after. He didn’t make the disciples memorize things, they never took a test, and he most certainly didn’t require sermon notes. Reading the Bible to better understand what Jesus said and did is an important step, but disciples learn so that they can do; they reflect on what Jesus has done and is still doing until it becomes theirs.
This might sound more like bondage and freedom to you, but think about it in terms of learning to do something that you enjoy -- especially something that connects you to others. Raising livestock is an example for me. I started out feeding the bottle lambs and jumping into the wool bags to pack them. I helped vaccinate and dehorn cattle, did chores and pitched manure. Later, dad helped me get started with my own flock of sheep and went to the bank with me to get a loan for a few head of cattle. When we finally got a place with a shed, it didn’t take long for me to buy some sheep. My kids all raised and showed animals, and, of course, I still have an active barnyard that I love to share with my grandchildren. Yes, sometimes it seems like work, but usually it just reminds me of time spent with my grandpa, my dad, my wife and my kids. Whenever I can, I work with kids and livestock. I can’t imagine my life without animals.
That’s the kind of commitment that Jesus is looking for -- to live a life that is centered on him that involves all of the other parts of our lives. We should learn more not out of a sense of obligation but because we hunger to know more in order to be able to do more. You might ask, “to do more what?” More of what gives your life direction and meaning and less of what holds us back, sin. Jesus speaks of freedom as the freedom of a child within a loving household where we are allowed to grow through trial and error because we don’t fear being shamed or judged -- the freedom to be in community with one another.
Soon, we will celebrate first communion. The sharing of the meal, of the body and blood of Christ, is the perfect opportunity to abide in Christ in community with one another and with all of the believers who have gone before us. Take advantage of this chance to give your sins to God and take his grace in return, to leave the altar free and cleansed. AMEN
Today’s Gospel reading is generally boiled down to one line, a line that probably resonates best in the King James translation: Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's. (Matthew 22:21) This line has the ring of universal truth to it. The problem is figuring out what, exactly, that truth might be. It is often connected to Romans 13:1, “ Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God.” to demonstrate that scripture commands us to obey our government; if everything belongs to God, that includes Caesar, so we are obeying God when we obey Caesar. It can be placed alongside Matthew 6:24, “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” to support the separation of church and state. The problem with universal truth is that it can be stretched to suit the needs of the user.
As we make sense of this text, it is important to begin with the hypocrisy of the original question. Jesus has just publicly embarrassed the religious officials on their home turf, the temple, by sharing three parables that clearly demonstrate their unfitness for the Kingdom of God. They are angry enough to kill him, but clever enough to know that they have to turn the crowds against him first. The question about paying taxes is the first of three attempts to do so. This question is much deeper than any current American debate over taxation. These taxes are being paid to an occupying government, which means that at least some of the money is being used to support the occupation itself. If Jesus says that the tax should not be paid, he will surely be punished by the Roman government. Also, they are being paid to a pagan government whose head, Caesar, views himself as divinity; the coin itself is a form of idolatry. If Jesus says that the tax should be paid, the crowds will turn against him. The fact that the religious officials are carrying coins makes their hypocrisy obvious.
Jesus avoids the trap with his answer, but there is more to his answer than simple wordplay. It is also more than a statement about the relationship between church and state or a lesson on civic responsibility. While the two halves of Jesus answers are parallel -- Caesar gets what is his while God gets what is his -- they are not equal. While Rome was impressive, it is insignificant in comparison to the Kingdom of God. In fact, Rome is a part of the Kingdom of God. The coin is stamped with an image of Caesar, while we were created in the image of God.
Now you might be saying to yourself, “Self, this is turning into yet another sermon about turning away from the earthly and embracing the divine.” I suppose you are right, but I don’t think that it is that simple. When I think about giving my life to God, it conjures up pictures of monks and nuns, of self-denial and patient suffering (or at least discomfort), but that is a lifestyle that simply doesn’t suit most of us, and it surely isn’t how Jesus lived. Jesus likely agreed with the Pharisees that it would be more trouble not to pay the tax than to pay it. The upside to paying the tax is that you would be left alone. The downside to not paying the tax would be imprisonment or even death. Seen in the light of the parables that precede it, the consequences of rendering unto God what is God’s or not are not as clear. In each parable, someone chooses to ignore God’s invitation, and they suffer for that choice. I would argue that their suffering is self-inflicted and that their suffering is less of a punishment than a missing out on what could have been. Those who do accept the invitation are not left alone. On the contrary, they are welcomed to an eternal feast.
God and Caesar are not equals, although we sometimes view them both as governing through a system of rules and punishments. We also do God the disservice of viewing him as separate from us. What if we embrace the Biblical image of God as a companion who truly and actually accepts us and forgives us completely whenever you need it? If God’s kingdom includes the here-and-now instead of just the great hereafter, that means that God put us in the world to be holy in it, to interact with other imperfect people in an imperfect world. AMEN
As we make sense of this text, it is important to begin with the hypocrisy of the original question. Jesus has just publicly embarrassed the religious officials on their home turf, the temple, by sharing three parables that clearly demonstrate their unfitness for the Kingdom of God. They are angry enough to kill him, but clever enough to know that they have to turn the crowds against him first. The question about paying taxes is the first of three attempts to do so. This question is much deeper than any current American debate over taxation. These taxes are being paid to an occupying government, which means that at least some of the money is being used to support the occupation itself. If Jesus says that the tax should not be paid, he will surely be punished by the Roman government. Also, they are being paid to a pagan government whose head, Caesar, views himself as divinity; the coin itself is a form of idolatry. If Jesus says that the tax should be paid, the crowds will turn against him. The fact that the religious officials are carrying coins makes their hypocrisy obvious.
Jesus avoids the trap with his answer, but there is more to his answer than simple wordplay. It is also more than a statement about the relationship between church and state or a lesson on civic responsibility. While the two halves of Jesus answers are parallel -- Caesar gets what is his while God gets what is his -- they are not equal. While Rome was impressive, it is insignificant in comparison to the Kingdom of God. In fact, Rome is a part of the Kingdom of God. The coin is stamped with an image of Caesar, while we were created in the image of God.
Now you might be saying to yourself, “Self, this is turning into yet another sermon about turning away from the earthly and embracing the divine.” I suppose you are right, but I don’t think that it is that simple. When I think about giving my life to God, it conjures up pictures of monks and nuns, of self-denial and patient suffering (or at least discomfort), but that is a lifestyle that simply doesn’t suit most of us, and it surely isn’t how Jesus lived. Jesus likely agreed with the Pharisees that it would be more trouble not to pay the tax than to pay it. The upside to paying the tax is that you would be left alone. The downside to not paying the tax would be imprisonment or even death. Seen in the light of the parables that precede it, the consequences of rendering unto God what is God’s or not are not as clear. In each parable, someone chooses to ignore God’s invitation, and they suffer for that choice. I would argue that their suffering is self-inflicted and that their suffering is less of a punishment than a missing out on what could have been. Those who do accept the invitation are not left alone. On the contrary, they are welcomed to an eternal feast.
God and Caesar are not equals, although we sometimes view them both as governing through a system of rules and punishments. We also do God the disservice of viewing him as separate from us. What if we embrace the Biblical image of God as a companion who truly and actually accepts us and forgives us completely whenever you need it? If God’s kingdom includes the here-and-now instead of just the great hereafter, that means that God put us in the world to be holy in it, to interact with other imperfect people in an imperfect world. AMEN
Pentecost 19: October 11, 2020
One of the issues with following the lectionary is that we can lose track of where we are in the story of Jesus. Although it is October, our Gospel readings the past several weeks took place during Holy Week. After Palm Sunday, Jesus threw the money changers out of the temple. When he returned on Wednesday to teach, he was confronted by a group of religious officials who essentially asked him what right he had to interfere in the business of the church. In response, Jesus told the parable of the man with a vineyard and two sons, the parable of the evil tenants, and today’s parable of the wedding feast. According to John MacArthur, “each of the parables is alike in that their message is a message of judgment. The parables, reduced to a simple understanding, say this, ‘You have rejected Me. All of the Old Testament prophets spoke of Me. All of the miracles that I have done validate My claim to be the Son of God, the Savior, the Messiah. All of the words that I have said affirm that. But you have consistently and for three years repeatedly rejected Me, and now God rejects you.’”
It is a part of our Lutheran heritage to view scripture in terms of law and gospel, and it is very easy to look at the parables as all law and no gospel. The simplest explanation I could find for the terms comes from Understanding Christianity.com: “With many passages in the Bible God is either trying to remind us that we’ve messed up and are sinful (making us feel godly sorrow over our sin), or he’s trying to remind us that we’ve been forgiven through Jesus (making us feel joy and appreciation for God).” Many would say that the hinge between the two is repentance. For example, we might read the parable of the wedding feast and realize that we often put other things before God. They aren’t necessarily bad things. We want to be good parents and productive workers, and we also want to enjoy life. The end of the parable might remind us that we aren’t prepared to “meet our maker,” that we have unresolved issues with family and friends. If the gospel side of the message doesn’t come through, we can easily feel like giving up.
So where is the gospel in this parable? First of all, the invitation is repeated; in fact, it is even sweetened a bit after being initially ignored. Secondly, the feast does happen; the king does not let a minor rebellion interfere with his love for the Son and his hospitality toward his subjects. Finally, everyone was invited to the banquet -- both good and bad. There is no question of needing to earn the invitation, it is freely given. That leaves us with the troublesome case of the man with no wedding garment. As I mentioned earlier, the lack of a garment seems to indicate a lack of preparedness. Although everyone was rounded up off of the streets, one man was singled out as underdressed, and he had no explanation to offer.
The image of a wedding feast for the son of a king is meant to conjure up the most extravagant of celebrations, with the finest wine and the richest food being served over the course of at least a week. To reject an invitation or not take it seriously is almost inconceivable. Most of us don’t have a solid idea of what heaven is like, but God has promised that it will be beyond our wildest imagination. The first part of the parable tells us that there is only one qualification to enter the Kingdom -- we need to accept the invitation. For Matthew, however, if a person receives unmerited grace and does not respond with humility, compassion, kindness, and gratitude, that person is judged just as those who begged off the initial invitation. In truth, it may be that an ungrateful life is its own judgment -- an “outer darkness” that is desperately lonely and devoid of joy. Yes, you can receive these glorious riches by grace alone but if you cannot be moved by that same grace—if you look at what is proffered and find it less interesting than other things that are occupying your heart and mind and life—then the result cannot be a simple shrug of the divine shoulders. The law exists to remind us that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. The gospel assures us that we don’t have to . AMEN
One of the issues with following the lectionary is that we can lose track of where we are in the story of Jesus. Although it is October, our Gospel readings the past several weeks took place during Holy Week. After Palm Sunday, Jesus threw the money changers out of the temple. When he returned on Wednesday to teach, he was confronted by a group of religious officials who essentially asked him what right he had to interfere in the business of the church. In response, Jesus told the parable of the man with a vineyard and two sons, the parable of the evil tenants, and today’s parable of the wedding feast. According to John MacArthur, “each of the parables is alike in that their message is a message of judgment. The parables, reduced to a simple understanding, say this, ‘You have rejected Me. All of the Old Testament prophets spoke of Me. All of the miracles that I have done validate My claim to be the Son of God, the Savior, the Messiah. All of the words that I have said affirm that. But you have consistently and for three years repeatedly rejected Me, and now God rejects you.’”
It is a part of our Lutheran heritage to view scripture in terms of law and gospel, and it is very easy to look at the parables as all law and no gospel. The simplest explanation I could find for the terms comes from Understanding Christianity.com: “With many passages in the Bible God is either trying to remind us that we’ve messed up and are sinful (making us feel godly sorrow over our sin), or he’s trying to remind us that we’ve been forgiven through Jesus (making us feel joy and appreciation for God).” Many would say that the hinge between the two is repentance. For example, we might read the parable of the wedding feast and realize that we often put other things before God. They aren’t necessarily bad things. We want to be good parents and productive workers, and we also want to enjoy life. The end of the parable might remind us that we aren’t prepared to “meet our maker,” that we have unresolved issues with family and friends. If the gospel side of the message doesn’t come through, we can easily feel like giving up.
So where is the gospel in this parable? First of all, the invitation is repeated; in fact, it is even sweetened a bit after being initially ignored. Secondly, the feast does happen; the king does not let a minor rebellion interfere with his love for the Son and his hospitality toward his subjects. Finally, everyone was invited to the banquet -- both good and bad. There is no question of needing to earn the invitation, it is freely given. That leaves us with the troublesome case of the man with no wedding garment. As I mentioned earlier, the lack of a garment seems to indicate a lack of preparedness. Although everyone was rounded up off of the streets, one man was singled out as underdressed, and he had no explanation to offer.
The image of a wedding feast for the son of a king is meant to conjure up the most extravagant of celebrations, with the finest wine and the richest food being served over the course of at least a week. To reject an invitation or not take it seriously is almost inconceivable. Most of us don’t have a solid idea of what heaven is like, but God has promised that it will be beyond our wildest imagination. The first part of the parable tells us that there is only one qualification to enter the Kingdom -- we need to accept the invitation. For Matthew, however, if a person receives unmerited grace and does not respond with humility, compassion, kindness, and gratitude, that person is judged just as those who begged off the initial invitation. In truth, it may be that an ungrateful life is its own judgment -- an “outer darkness” that is desperately lonely and devoid of joy. Yes, you can receive these glorious riches by grace alone but if you cannot be moved by that same grace—if you look at what is proffered and find it less interesting than other things that are occupying your heart and mind and life—then the result cannot be a simple shrug of the divine shoulders. The law exists to remind us that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. The gospel assures us that we don’t have to . AMEN
Pentecost 18: October 4, 2020
This week we return to the vineyard for a parable that is full of rejection. The tenants reject the owner by refusing to honor their agreement and they reject the owner’s representatives -- including his only son and heir. In a twist, the son who gets rejected will emerge as a highly powerful figure who will, in turn, reject the rejecters! Now that’s a lot of rejection! Although the story is straightforward, there are some elements that can make it difficult to understand. Most obviously, it seems inappropriate to view God as an absentee landlord. Secondly, it seems illogical that the landowner would continue to send people to collect his share, only to have them beaten, killed and stoned. It seems even less logical that he would assume that his son would be respected. Additionally, the actions of the tenants don’t make a lot of sense. Did they really believe that their violence would go unpunished. Finally, the image of the cornerstone seems to come out of nowhere. We see the chief priests and Pharisees recognizing themselves in the story, but what does it have to say to us today?
A good first step might be to acknowledge that the rejection of Jesus was not a one-time thing that was done in the distant past by people who were much different than us. The Pharisees and other religious officials rejected Jesus mostly because they were convinced that following God’s laws was the best way to please God. It is not at all surprising that Jesus’ apparent disregard for what they believed offended them. Jesus’ own followers struggled to understand how Jesus could be the Messiah, yet behave so unlike they thought that he should. Neither group really grasped why Jesus spent all of his time with people who had so little to offer when he could have either assumed a leadership role in the Sanhedrin or become the leader of the people of Israel as they rose up to reclaim their rightful status. It seems to me that we have the same problem as we try to make Jesus fit our expectations instead of living our lives in an attempt to meet his. We want a God who will reward our goodness and punish our enemies, a God who treats us as his chosen people, a God who keeps bad things from happening to us, a God who is willing to look the other way when we need to take shortcuts in life.
The tenants forgot the fundamental truth that the vineyard had been carefully prepared for them and that they had been chosen to care for it. Instead of celebrating the potential of the vineyard to produce abundantly over time, they chose to take drastic measures to keep the first crop for themselves. Doesn’t this also sound familiar? How much of the business of the church today is focused not on the work of the Kingdom, but instead on how we can keep our doors open?
And what does God want from us? When asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus replied, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 22:37-40, NRSV) John 3:16-17 tell us, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Finally, the king in the parable of the sheep and goats says, “‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
It is really that simple! God wants us all to be saved. If we want to show God our love, we can do so only by loving our neighbors -- and our neighbors are anyone and everyone who God loves, which is everyone. AMEN
This week we return to the vineyard for a parable that is full of rejection. The tenants reject the owner by refusing to honor their agreement and they reject the owner’s representatives -- including his only son and heir. In a twist, the son who gets rejected will emerge as a highly powerful figure who will, in turn, reject the rejecters! Now that’s a lot of rejection! Although the story is straightforward, there are some elements that can make it difficult to understand. Most obviously, it seems inappropriate to view God as an absentee landlord. Secondly, it seems illogical that the landowner would continue to send people to collect his share, only to have them beaten, killed and stoned. It seems even less logical that he would assume that his son would be respected. Additionally, the actions of the tenants don’t make a lot of sense. Did they really believe that their violence would go unpunished. Finally, the image of the cornerstone seems to come out of nowhere. We see the chief priests and Pharisees recognizing themselves in the story, but what does it have to say to us today?
A good first step might be to acknowledge that the rejection of Jesus was not a one-time thing that was done in the distant past by people who were much different than us. The Pharisees and other religious officials rejected Jesus mostly because they were convinced that following God’s laws was the best way to please God. It is not at all surprising that Jesus’ apparent disregard for what they believed offended them. Jesus’ own followers struggled to understand how Jesus could be the Messiah, yet behave so unlike they thought that he should. Neither group really grasped why Jesus spent all of his time with people who had so little to offer when he could have either assumed a leadership role in the Sanhedrin or become the leader of the people of Israel as they rose up to reclaim their rightful status. It seems to me that we have the same problem as we try to make Jesus fit our expectations instead of living our lives in an attempt to meet his. We want a God who will reward our goodness and punish our enemies, a God who treats us as his chosen people, a God who keeps bad things from happening to us, a God who is willing to look the other way when we need to take shortcuts in life.
The tenants forgot the fundamental truth that the vineyard had been carefully prepared for them and that they had been chosen to care for it. Instead of celebrating the potential of the vineyard to produce abundantly over time, they chose to take drastic measures to keep the first crop for themselves. Doesn’t this also sound familiar? How much of the business of the church today is focused not on the work of the Kingdom, but instead on how we can keep our doors open?
And what does God want from us? When asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus replied, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 22:37-40, NRSV) John 3:16-17 tell us, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Finally, the king in the parable of the sheep and goats says, “‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
It is really that simple! God wants us all to be saved. If we want to show God our love, we can do so only by loving our neighbors -- and our neighbors are anyone and everyone who God loves, which is everyone. AMEN
Today’s Gospel reading is preceded by the story of the rich young man who Jesus tells, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” which causes Peter to ask,“Look, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?”. Jesus promises that the 12 disciples thrones from which they will judge the tribes of Israel. Jesus also says, “ And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first. Today’s parable, then, is intended to shed some light on what it means for the first to be last and the last first.
The biggest hurdle to overcome with this parable is that it violates our sense of fairness: Equal pay for equal work is fair; equal pay for unequal work is not fair. Rewarding those who do the most work is fair; rewarding those who do the least is not fair. Treating everyone the same is fair; treating everyone the same when they are not the same is not fair. We struggle with a God whose actions do not meet our expectations. This might serve as a reminder that God is not simply a projection of our personal desires -- that what we want and what God wants are often two different things.
Let’s start with the workers. They are day laborers, which means that they have to compete for their wage every day. If they don’t work, they don’t eat. The owner of the vineyard agrees with the first group of workers for the usual daily wage, tells the second and third groups that he will pay them whatever is right, and sends the final group with no mention of payment at all. We, along with the workers, assume that “whatever is right” will be less than the usual daily wage. In addition, I had always assumed that the workers were selected in order of merit -- that the latter groups had simply not made themselves available earlier in the day -- but there is nothing to support that in the parable. Looking back, it bothers me how easy it was to dismiss those who didn’t find work right away as lazy or somehow unworthy instead of focusing on their trust in the owner to compensate them fairly. The sense of entitlement that the first workers feel is also puzzling when you remember that they were employed only through the benevolence of the owner and that they will be back in line looking for work the next morning.
The thing that got to me most as I thought about this story is the picture of all of the workers standing together looking over the results of their work as the heat of the day ebbed away. It reminds me of a prayer that is often used at funeral services: “O Lord, support us all the day long of this troubled life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes and the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, in your mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” What an amazing image of Heaven -- all of us sharing in the satisfaction of a job completed as the sun slips below the horizon, of hearing the first drops of rain on the roof just as we put the last bale inside. Until the matter of wages comes up, it is a perfect moment.
Somehow, we need to let go of the idea of compensation and buy into the idea that we are all called to do God’s work according to our abilities. God is all about love, while we act mostly out of insufficiency. Like everything else in the world, we view God as existing to serve our needs. How could we ask for more from God that He has already given? AMEN
The biggest hurdle to overcome with this parable is that it violates our sense of fairness: Equal pay for equal work is fair; equal pay for unequal work is not fair. Rewarding those who do the most work is fair; rewarding those who do the least is not fair. Treating everyone the same is fair; treating everyone the same when they are not the same is not fair. We struggle with a God whose actions do not meet our expectations. This might serve as a reminder that God is not simply a projection of our personal desires -- that what we want and what God wants are often two different things.
Let’s start with the workers. They are day laborers, which means that they have to compete for their wage every day. If they don’t work, they don’t eat. The owner of the vineyard agrees with the first group of workers for the usual daily wage, tells the second and third groups that he will pay them whatever is right, and sends the final group with no mention of payment at all. We, along with the workers, assume that “whatever is right” will be less than the usual daily wage. In addition, I had always assumed that the workers were selected in order of merit -- that the latter groups had simply not made themselves available earlier in the day -- but there is nothing to support that in the parable. Looking back, it bothers me how easy it was to dismiss those who didn’t find work right away as lazy or somehow unworthy instead of focusing on their trust in the owner to compensate them fairly. The sense of entitlement that the first workers feel is also puzzling when you remember that they were employed only through the benevolence of the owner and that they will be back in line looking for work the next morning.
The thing that got to me most as I thought about this story is the picture of all of the workers standing together looking over the results of their work as the heat of the day ebbed away. It reminds me of a prayer that is often used at funeral services: “O Lord, support us all the day long of this troubled life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes and the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, in your mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” What an amazing image of Heaven -- all of us sharing in the satisfaction of a job completed as the sun slips below the horizon, of hearing the first drops of rain on the roof just as we put the last bale inside. Until the matter of wages comes up, it is a perfect moment.
Somehow, we need to let go of the idea of compensation and buy into the idea that we are all called to do God’s work according to our abilities. God is all about love, while we act mostly out of insufficiency. Like everything else in the world, we view God as existing to serve our needs. How could we ask for more from God that He has already given? AMEN
Pentecost 15, September 13, 2020
Peter’s suggestion that he should forgive seven times seems unbelievably generous. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me; once bitten, twice shy, three strikes and you’re out… There was a classroom management tool at one point that consisted of writing the names of students who misbehaved on the board. Future infractions were tracked with check marks. Depending on the teacher, either the writing of the name plus two check marks or the third check mark resulted in some sort of disciplinary action. I don’t remember if there was a way to earn the removal of check marks because I was immediately overwhelmed by students jockeying to get their names on the board. They were even more eager to find a way to get the names of those who would be bothered by it on the board. Next, of course, came the race to get one check mark away from punishment, followed closely by the unspoken plan to overwhelm me by forcing me to punish most of the class. Let’s face it -- giving someone seven chances is not best practice.
Jesus’ response is completely over the top; forgive not seven times, but seventy seven times (or seventy times seven, depending on the translation). It would take a whale of a chalkboard to keep track of all that, which, of course, is the point. If you are keeping track, you aren’t really forgiving at all. And, by the way, Peter, why are you only concerned with forgiving others -- what about your own sinfulness?
This is followed by a simple story where a king who is planning to sell a dishonest slave and his family over a debt that is equivalent to the gross national product of a small country. When the slave begs for mercy and promises to repay (which is clearly impossible), the king feels pity on him and forgives the entire debt. As he leaves, the freshly-forgiven slave meets a man who owes him a manageable debt. Instead of forgiving the debt, slave number one has slave number two imprisoned until he could pay the debt. When he hears about this, the king has the slave who he has previously forgiven tortured until he can repay his debt, which is forever.
Easy-peasy, right? Forgive one another as you have been forgiven or go to Hell for eternal torture. I don’t know how that strikes you, but it bothers me a lot and for several reasons. First of all, forgiveness is hard and the need for it is constant. Intentionally or unintentionally, we hurt other people and we are hurt by other people. If it was just me and Jesus I might have a chance, but I have to deal with all of you people and you have to deal with me. Barbara Brown Taylor says, “ There is a lot of false forgiveness around: People overlook one another’s faults or make excuses for them and call it forgiveness. They hide their feelings in order to avoid a fight and call it forgiveness. They learn how to say things that sound forgiving and call it forgiveness, while their actions bear no resemblance to their words. There is a lot that passes for forgiveness these days that is not forgiveness at all but a kind of indifference, in which we dismiss people from our lives by “forgiving” them and then having less and less to do with them until finally there is nothing left between us at all.”
The slave fails because he applies a different standard to others than he applies to himself. Does that make anyone else squirm uncomfortably, or is it just me? God’s love, on the other hand, shines on the good and bad alike. That’s fine and dandy when we need forgiveness, but it seems grossly unfair that those who we can clearly see don’t deserve it benefit. In the end, we need to forgive God and that might be the hardest forgiveness of all. It’s hard to accept that God loves everyone equally—even our enemies, even those who hate us, even those who don’t work as hard as we do, even those who reject duty for selfishness, and even those who give in to all the temptations we resist. Although deep down we know that God has been more than fair with us, God’s lavish generosity to others is something which we find hard to accept.
The first, and most difficult, step is to recognize that we stand in need of forgiveness -- that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. We are just as undeserving of God’s grace as everyone else. Understanding that, we can cultivate the habit of forgiveness. It is interconnected with confession and repentance, and it is hard work. In the words of Dag Hammarskjold, “Forgiveness breaks the chain of causality because he who “forgives” you—out of love—takes upon himself the consequences of what you have done. Forgiveness, therefore, always entails a sacrifice. We don’t simply forgive and forget; we take it upon ourselves to bring the “other” back into the community -- a point that Makes over and over again; that the life of the community -- the family of God -- is the most important thing in the world, and that those who want to be members of it are called to do everything in their power to nourish and strengthen the bonds of their love. AMEN
Peter’s suggestion that he should forgive seven times seems unbelievably generous. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me; once bitten, twice shy, three strikes and you’re out… There was a classroom management tool at one point that consisted of writing the names of students who misbehaved on the board. Future infractions were tracked with check marks. Depending on the teacher, either the writing of the name plus two check marks or the third check mark resulted in some sort of disciplinary action. I don’t remember if there was a way to earn the removal of check marks because I was immediately overwhelmed by students jockeying to get their names on the board. They were even more eager to find a way to get the names of those who would be bothered by it on the board. Next, of course, came the race to get one check mark away from punishment, followed closely by the unspoken plan to overwhelm me by forcing me to punish most of the class. Let’s face it -- giving someone seven chances is not best practice.
Jesus’ response is completely over the top; forgive not seven times, but seventy seven times (or seventy times seven, depending on the translation). It would take a whale of a chalkboard to keep track of all that, which, of course, is the point. If you are keeping track, you aren’t really forgiving at all. And, by the way, Peter, why are you only concerned with forgiving others -- what about your own sinfulness?
This is followed by a simple story where a king who is planning to sell a dishonest slave and his family over a debt that is equivalent to the gross national product of a small country. When the slave begs for mercy and promises to repay (which is clearly impossible), the king feels pity on him and forgives the entire debt. As he leaves, the freshly-forgiven slave meets a man who owes him a manageable debt. Instead of forgiving the debt, slave number one has slave number two imprisoned until he could pay the debt. When he hears about this, the king has the slave who he has previously forgiven tortured until he can repay his debt, which is forever.
Easy-peasy, right? Forgive one another as you have been forgiven or go to Hell for eternal torture. I don’t know how that strikes you, but it bothers me a lot and for several reasons. First of all, forgiveness is hard and the need for it is constant. Intentionally or unintentionally, we hurt other people and we are hurt by other people. If it was just me and Jesus I might have a chance, but I have to deal with all of you people and you have to deal with me. Barbara Brown Taylor says, “ There is a lot of false forgiveness around: People overlook one another’s faults or make excuses for them and call it forgiveness. They hide their feelings in order to avoid a fight and call it forgiveness. They learn how to say things that sound forgiving and call it forgiveness, while their actions bear no resemblance to their words. There is a lot that passes for forgiveness these days that is not forgiveness at all but a kind of indifference, in which we dismiss people from our lives by “forgiving” them and then having less and less to do with them until finally there is nothing left between us at all.”
The slave fails because he applies a different standard to others than he applies to himself. Does that make anyone else squirm uncomfortably, or is it just me? God’s love, on the other hand, shines on the good and bad alike. That’s fine and dandy when we need forgiveness, but it seems grossly unfair that those who we can clearly see don’t deserve it benefit. In the end, we need to forgive God and that might be the hardest forgiveness of all. It’s hard to accept that God loves everyone equally—even our enemies, even those who hate us, even those who don’t work as hard as we do, even those who reject duty for selfishness, and even those who give in to all the temptations we resist. Although deep down we know that God has been more than fair with us, God’s lavish generosity to others is something which we find hard to accept.
The first, and most difficult, step is to recognize that we stand in need of forgiveness -- that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. We are just as undeserving of God’s grace as everyone else. Understanding that, we can cultivate the habit of forgiveness. It is interconnected with confession and repentance, and it is hard work. In the words of Dag Hammarskjold, “Forgiveness breaks the chain of causality because he who “forgives” you—out of love—takes upon himself the consequences of what you have done. Forgiveness, therefore, always entails a sacrifice. We don’t simply forgive and forget; we take it upon ourselves to bring the “other” back into the community -- a point that Makes over and over again; that the life of the community -- the family of God -- is the most important thing in the world, and that those who want to be members of it are called to do everything in their power to nourish and strengthen the bonds of their love. AMEN
Pentecost 13, August 30,2020
“From then on…” we are clearly at a turning point in Jesus’ ministry. It is time to prepare the disciples for the journey to Jerusalem where Jesus will suffer and die at the hands of the Sanhedrin, the supreme religious body in Israel. Jesus is clear that this MUST happen. Whether this transition happens because the disciples, particularly Peter, have passed some sort of test by identifying Jesus as the messiah, or because Jesus knows that his death and resurrection are mere months away, it is time.
Peter kicks things off by going from “rock” to “stumbling block” faster than you can say, “Get behind me, Satan!”. It is obvious that the disciples need more instruction, and Jesus provides it immediately, letting them know that true discipleship means being transformed from selfishness to selflessness.” In the church, we offer several landmark moments for children: baptism, enrollment in Sunday school, third-grade Bibles, first communion and confirmation come to mind, while the only such events that I can think of for adults are funerals and maybe weddings. It is no wonder that many people view confirmation as graduation from church! If you are a baptized and confirmed member of a church, what remains to be done? We have learned that we are incapable of avoiding sin, that Jesus died for our sins, and that there is nothing that we can do to be worthy of forgiveness, but we have no real framework within which we can measure our progress.
Jesus begins with, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me.” The problem is that most of us can’t simply subordinate our wishes to those of God and then proceed directly to eternal life. We may have our moments of personal sacrifice, but Jesus is asking for a constant awareness of the demands of God and the needs of others. According to Barclay, “In every decision of life we are doing something to ourselves; we are making ourselves a certain kind of person; we are building up steadily and inevitably a certain kind of self and character; we are making ourselves able to do certain things and quite unable to do others.” Taking up our cross doesn’t mean putting up with things that we would rather avoid, it is a systematic rejection of selfishness accompanied by a growing compassion for others.
Let’s begin with the simplest of Christian ideas: Jesus loves me. Even though it is simple, it can be hard to believe. Why would Jesus love someone as broken as me? If Jesus loves me, why do bad things keep happening to me? It can be even more difficult to believe that Jesus loves everyone. A quick reading of the Psalms shows our desire for God to not only care for us, but also to destroy our enemies. In today’s gospel, Jesus says that “the Son of Man will come with his angels in the glory of his Father and will judge all people according to their deeds.” It would be much simpler for us to pick up our crosses if we were sure of what that meant. Unfortunately, part of our burden is that God isn’t in the business of congratulating us every time we do a good deed or of punishing us every time that we displease Him. This is further complicated by the fact that repentance and forgiveness are available to all.
Earthly success is fairly easy to see (although what we see is often an illusion) because it is measurable. Jesus tells us that we need to let go of things that can be measured in order to receive a reward that is immeasurable. Instead of a bird in hand being worth two in the bush, we are called to save our lives by losing them. How do we track our progress? We don’t. AMEN
“From then on…” we are clearly at a turning point in Jesus’ ministry. It is time to prepare the disciples for the journey to Jerusalem where Jesus will suffer and die at the hands of the Sanhedrin, the supreme religious body in Israel. Jesus is clear that this MUST happen. Whether this transition happens because the disciples, particularly Peter, have passed some sort of test by identifying Jesus as the messiah, or because Jesus knows that his death and resurrection are mere months away, it is time.
Peter kicks things off by going from “rock” to “stumbling block” faster than you can say, “Get behind me, Satan!”. It is obvious that the disciples need more instruction, and Jesus provides it immediately, letting them know that true discipleship means being transformed from selfishness to selflessness.” In the church, we offer several landmark moments for children: baptism, enrollment in Sunday school, third-grade Bibles, first communion and confirmation come to mind, while the only such events that I can think of for adults are funerals and maybe weddings. It is no wonder that many people view confirmation as graduation from church! If you are a baptized and confirmed member of a church, what remains to be done? We have learned that we are incapable of avoiding sin, that Jesus died for our sins, and that there is nothing that we can do to be worthy of forgiveness, but we have no real framework within which we can measure our progress.
Jesus begins with, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me.” The problem is that most of us can’t simply subordinate our wishes to those of God and then proceed directly to eternal life. We may have our moments of personal sacrifice, but Jesus is asking for a constant awareness of the demands of God and the needs of others. According to Barclay, “In every decision of life we are doing something to ourselves; we are making ourselves a certain kind of person; we are building up steadily and inevitably a certain kind of self and character; we are making ourselves able to do certain things and quite unable to do others.” Taking up our cross doesn’t mean putting up with things that we would rather avoid, it is a systematic rejection of selfishness accompanied by a growing compassion for others.
Let’s begin with the simplest of Christian ideas: Jesus loves me. Even though it is simple, it can be hard to believe. Why would Jesus love someone as broken as me? If Jesus loves me, why do bad things keep happening to me? It can be even more difficult to believe that Jesus loves everyone. A quick reading of the Psalms shows our desire for God to not only care for us, but also to destroy our enemies. In today’s gospel, Jesus says that “the Son of Man will come with his angels in the glory of his Father and will judge all people according to their deeds.” It would be much simpler for us to pick up our crosses if we were sure of what that meant. Unfortunately, part of our burden is that God isn’t in the business of congratulating us every time we do a good deed or of punishing us every time that we displease Him. This is further complicated by the fact that repentance and forgiveness are available to all.
Earthly success is fairly easy to see (although what we see is often an illusion) because it is measurable. Jesus tells us that we need to let go of things that can be measured in order to receive a reward that is immeasurable. Instead of a bird in hand being worth two in the bush, we are called to save our lives by losing them. How do we track our progress? We don’t. AMEN
Pentecost 11: August 16, 2020
Why did Jesus first ignore, then insult the Canaanite woman? The pursuit of an answer can lead us down all sorts of rabbit holes, many of which can make us quite uncomfortable. If we entertain the idea that Matthew may have misquoted Jesus, are we abandoning the idea of the inerrancy of scripture? Some interpreters go as far as adding a sparkle to Jesus’ eye as he compares the woman to a dog (a small, house dog -- not a wild street dog). Does Jesus really need us to defend Him? Without any hints to his facial expression or tone of voice, we are just guessing. Is it blasphemy to think that Jesus might have had a bad day or that growing up in a time and place where women and non-Jews were treated poorly could have affected him? Was Jesus learning as well as teaching during his ministry -- could the faith of the Canaanite woman have revealed an essential truth about his ministry to him?
While pursuing these questions could lead us to a deeper understanding of what we believe and why we believe it, for today let’s just assume that Jesus said what he is reported to have said and proceed without trying to justify or gloss over his words. As one commentator said,
The Canaanite woman has the best lines in this story, but Jesus has the last word: "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." Let’s lock in on the word “faith.” We have heard Jesus call out his disciples as men of little faith several times. When the people in Nazareth refuse to listen to Jesus, “ he did only a few miracles there because of their unbelief.” There are several instances when Jesus tells people that their faith has made them well. As Lutherans, we might shy away from a connection between faith and healing, but Matthew certainly didn’t.
We know that even a little faith can accomplish great things, so it is not a matter of having “enough” faith (whatever that might mean). I can’t recall any instances of Jesus refusing to heal someone for any reason. Everyone in the crowd was fed from the loaves and fishes. As far as I can tell, the thing that all of the people Jesus healed had in common was that they showed up and they asked (or someone asked on their behalf). The Canaanite woman more than met those criteria. Although she was not a Jew, she addressed Jesus as “Lord” and “Son of David.” Like many of the people Jesus healed, she seemed to understand more about Jesus than his own disciples. Her persistence shows that she has placed all of her hope in Jesus.
The woman’s response when Jesus says, “It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.” reveals a great deal about her. She doesn’t give up, and she doesn’t let her pride overcome her need. She isn’t trying to stand in the way of Jesus’ mission. She just wants a crumb, recognizing that even a crumb is powerful enough to defeat the demon that has possessed her daughter. She knows that Jesus will hear her cries. Her need is her strength, and that is what any of us bring to the table when we hold out our hands for the little crumb of bread and the little drink. We are all beggars.
Repentance opens the door to a relationship with God, and it seems obvious that we should strive for righteousness, even though we can never attain it on our own. God wants us to be in a relationship with him, and that relationship is faith. Could it be that faith is simply acknowledging our need for God’s mercy, overcoming our mixture of shame and pride that keep us from asking for help, and allowing ourselves to be dependent on God? AMEN
Why did Jesus first ignore, then insult the Canaanite woman? The pursuit of an answer can lead us down all sorts of rabbit holes, many of which can make us quite uncomfortable. If we entertain the idea that Matthew may have misquoted Jesus, are we abandoning the idea of the inerrancy of scripture? Some interpreters go as far as adding a sparkle to Jesus’ eye as he compares the woman to a dog (a small, house dog -- not a wild street dog). Does Jesus really need us to defend Him? Without any hints to his facial expression or tone of voice, we are just guessing. Is it blasphemy to think that Jesus might have had a bad day or that growing up in a time and place where women and non-Jews were treated poorly could have affected him? Was Jesus learning as well as teaching during his ministry -- could the faith of the Canaanite woman have revealed an essential truth about his ministry to him?
While pursuing these questions could lead us to a deeper understanding of what we believe and why we believe it, for today let’s just assume that Jesus said what he is reported to have said and proceed without trying to justify or gloss over his words. As one commentator said,
The Canaanite woman has the best lines in this story, but Jesus has the last word: "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." Let’s lock in on the word “faith.” We have heard Jesus call out his disciples as men of little faith several times. When the people in Nazareth refuse to listen to Jesus, “ he did only a few miracles there because of their unbelief.” There are several instances when Jesus tells people that their faith has made them well. As Lutherans, we might shy away from a connection between faith and healing, but Matthew certainly didn’t.
We know that even a little faith can accomplish great things, so it is not a matter of having “enough” faith (whatever that might mean). I can’t recall any instances of Jesus refusing to heal someone for any reason. Everyone in the crowd was fed from the loaves and fishes. As far as I can tell, the thing that all of the people Jesus healed had in common was that they showed up and they asked (or someone asked on their behalf). The Canaanite woman more than met those criteria. Although she was not a Jew, she addressed Jesus as “Lord” and “Son of David.” Like many of the people Jesus healed, she seemed to understand more about Jesus than his own disciples. Her persistence shows that she has placed all of her hope in Jesus.
The woman’s response when Jesus says, “It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.” reveals a great deal about her. She doesn’t give up, and she doesn’t let her pride overcome her need. She isn’t trying to stand in the way of Jesus’ mission. She just wants a crumb, recognizing that even a crumb is powerful enough to defeat the demon that has possessed her daughter. She knows that Jesus will hear her cries. Her need is her strength, and that is what any of us bring to the table when we hold out our hands for the little crumb of bread and the little drink. We are all beggars.
Repentance opens the door to a relationship with God, and it seems obvious that we should strive for righteousness, even though we can never attain it on our own. God wants us to be in a relationship with him, and that relationship is faith. Could it be that faith is simply acknowledging our need for God’s mercy, overcoming our mixture of shame and pride that keep us from asking for help, and allowing ourselves to be dependent on God? AMEN
Pentecost 10: August 9,2020
Jesus and the disciples do a lot of getting in and out of boats in Matthew’s gospel. The first disciples were called into ministry directly from their boats and told that they would be taught to fish for men. In Matthew 8, the story of Jesus calming the storm begins when one of the disciples asks to be allowed to go home and bury his father before getting into the boat. Jesus replies, “Let the dead bury the dead.” before getting into the boat and starting across the lake. When the disciples panic and wake Jesus up, he asks them why they are afraid and calls them men of little faith. The story concludes with the disciples wondering, “who is this man that the wind and the waves obey him?”. Between that boat story and today’s gospel, Jesus continues to preach, teach and heal. The disciples are sent out to do their own preaching, teaching and healing. The Pharisees confront Jesus, and he shares a series of parables with the crowds while standing in a boat. Finally, the 5,000 (or 15,000) are fed.
Sharing a second boat story must be intentional on Matthew’s part. While this story is in other gospels, the story of Peter walking on water is unique to Matthew. Like the story of the bread and fishes, the miracle in this story isn’t really the point. Yes, Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes, but the point was that the people were hungry and Jesus took what the disciples brought him, blessed it, and had them distribute it to the crowd. We can get hung up on the walking on the water part of today’s story. This scene is the altar painting at Bergen, so I have spent many hours daydreaming about it. The point of the story is not the miracle. Jesus walks on the water because the disciples need him. The next thing that is open for debate is what we are to learn from Peter’s actions. Is Peter wrong to challenge Jesus? Are we supposed to admire Peter for his willingness to take a chance and step out of the boat or see his sinking as a cautionary tale? I would argue that dwelling on this again draws us away from the main point of the story. When Peter begins to sink and cries out for help, Jesus is right there with his hand extended. Yes, Jesus asks why Peter doubted him and points out that he is a person of little faith, but that is far from a condemnation.
The essential question in this episode is, “why do you doubt?” If we are honest, we probably ask that question of ourselves regularly. It is certainly a legitimate question for others to ask of us when they see us struggling in spite of our professed faith. Barbara Brown Taylor says, “Hearing that (why did you doubt?) most of us count ourselves failures, but I wonder. Can you imagine the story turning out any other way?
It would be a different story. It might even be a better story, but it would not be a story about us. The truth about us is more complicated. The truth about us is that we obey and fear, we walk and sink, we believe and doubt. But it is not like we do only one or the other. We do both.”
Like the feeding of the 5,000, this story emphasizes Jesus' function rather than his nature. The fact that he feeds the hungry and responds to our cries for help are much more important than his ability to turn water into wind, feed the multitudes with a few fish and crackers, or walk on water. The accounts also point out that faith is not a possession, but an activity. Yes, Peter and the disciples are men of little faith, but Jesus tells us that a little faith is all that it takes to move mountains and walk on water (if only for a moment.) I am not sure how one would measure faith other than by how it is demonstrated. It is not about the amount of faith, but the amount of faithfulness demonstrated. AMEN
Jesus and the disciples do a lot of getting in and out of boats in Matthew’s gospel. The first disciples were called into ministry directly from their boats and told that they would be taught to fish for men. In Matthew 8, the story of Jesus calming the storm begins when one of the disciples asks to be allowed to go home and bury his father before getting into the boat. Jesus replies, “Let the dead bury the dead.” before getting into the boat and starting across the lake. When the disciples panic and wake Jesus up, he asks them why they are afraid and calls them men of little faith. The story concludes with the disciples wondering, “who is this man that the wind and the waves obey him?”. Between that boat story and today’s gospel, Jesus continues to preach, teach and heal. The disciples are sent out to do their own preaching, teaching and healing. The Pharisees confront Jesus, and he shares a series of parables with the crowds while standing in a boat. Finally, the 5,000 (or 15,000) are fed.
Sharing a second boat story must be intentional on Matthew’s part. While this story is in other gospels, the story of Peter walking on water is unique to Matthew. Like the story of the bread and fishes, the miracle in this story isn’t really the point. Yes, Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes, but the point was that the people were hungry and Jesus took what the disciples brought him, blessed it, and had them distribute it to the crowd. We can get hung up on the walking on the water part of today’s story. This scene is the altar painting at Bergen, so I have spent many hours daydreaming about it. The point of the story is not the miracle. Jesus walks on the water because the disciples need him. The next thing that is open for debate is what we are to learn from Peter’s actions. Is Peter wrong to challenge Jesus? Are we supposed to admire Peter for his willingness to take a chance and step out of the boat or see his sinking as a cautionary tale? I would argue that dwelling on this again draws us away from the main point of the story. When Peter begins to sink and cries out for help, Jesus is right there with his hand extended. Yes, Jesus asks why Peter doubted him and points out that he is a person of little faith, but that is far from a condemnation.
The essential question in this episode is, “why do you doubt?” If we are honest, we probably ask that question of ourselves regularly. It is certainly a legitimate question for others to ask of us when they see us struggling in spite of our professed faith. Barbara Brown Taylor says, “Hearing that (why did you doubt?) most of us count ourselves failures, but I wonder. Can you imagine the story turning out any other way?
It would be a different story. It might even be a better story, but it would not be a story about us. The truth about us is more complicated. The truth about us is that we obey and fear, we walk and sink, we believe and doubt. But it is not like we do only one or the other. We do both.”
Like the feeding of the 5,000, this story emphasizes Jesus' function rather than his nature. The fact that he feeds the hungry and responds to our cries for help are much more important than his ability to turn water into wind, feed the multitudes with a few fish and crackers, or walk on water. The accounts also point out that faith is not a possession, but an activity. Yes, Peter and the disciples are men of little faith, but Jesus tells us that a little faith is all that it takes to move mountains and walk on water (if only for a moment.) I am not sure how one would measure faith other than by how it is demonstrated. It is not about the amount of faith, but the amount of faithfulness demonstrated. AMEN
Pentecost 9: August 2nd
When we last saw Jesus, he was explaining the parable of the fishing net. Between then and now in Matthew, he has returned to his hometown where an initially warm reception quickly turns sour: “When he taught there in the synagogue, everyone was amazed and said, ‘Where does he get this wisdom and the power to do miracles?’ Then they scoffed, ‘He’s just the carpenter’s son, and we know Mary, his mother, and his brothers.... All his sisters live right here among us. Where did he learn all these things?’ And they were deeply offended and refused to believe in him.” Meanwhile, Herod has heard about Jesus and determined that Jesus must be the resurrected John the Baptist. There are many Herods in the Bible. Herod the Great, the Herod who sent the Wise Men to search for Jesus, was married many times, and he had many children (although he became paranoid in his later years and murdered many members of his family). The two brothers involved in the killing of John the Baptist, Herod Philip and Herod Antipas were half-brothers. Herodias, who was married first to Herod Philip and then to Herod Antipas, was the daughter of yet another half-brother. Herod’s dancing daughter, Salome, was simultaneously his daughter, his niece, and his great niece. She later married Philip the Tetrarch, who was -- you guessed it -- half-brother to the Herods.
Imagine what must have been on Jesus’ mind when he learned that the man who had baptized him was beheaded as the result of a twisted family dynamic fueled by unchecked power and ambition. Yes, he probably had some fear that Herod would come for him next, but I believe that he most likely struggled with a mix of doubt and sorrow: doubt that people would ever accept his message, doubt that the world was worth saving, and sorrow that a man such as John the Baptist would suffer and die at the hand of an evil man like Herod. It seems likely that this moment also brought the reality of the cross into focus for Jesus as well. As John MacArthur puts it, Jesus is about to enter the final year of his ministry by transitioning from mostly public ministry to an emphasis on preparing the disciples for what is to come.
Whatever emotions Jesus hoped to work through, he was soon interrupted by a stream of uninvited visitors. Instead of being irritated, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. I am fortunate to know several people who are wired this way, people who, in the midst of their own pain are still selflessly focused on the needs of others. It is not at all unusual to visit a hospital or home to attempt to offer comfort only to end up having the person I went to visit cheering me up instead. Jesus is not a detached observer of our pain because he has suffered himself. He also doesn’t discount our suffering. During his ministry, he tended to people’s physical needs. He doesn’t just sit around and tell stories about what the Kingdom of Heaven is like, Jesus meets people where they are, in their truth. He meets them in a condition in which they wish they were not. Jesus uses the meaningful gestures of humanity to attract to the reality beyond words.
And how does he go about it? He has been healing people all day. The disciples ask him to send the people away because they are hungry and there simply isn’t enough to feed them. Jesus replies, “That isn’t necessary—you feed them.” He asks for what they have, blesses it (The usual Jewish grace is ‘Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the universe, for You bring forth bread from the earth’, a reminder that the provision of food in the normal way is itself a miracle.), breaks it, and has the disciples distribute it. The miracle itself is hidden. All that the people see is the disciples going back and forth with baskets of food while everyone eats until they are stuffed.
Now, we have all heard this story many times. Besides the resurrection, it is the only miracle that is included in all four Gospels. What can we take from it today? This time through, I have developed an appreciation for Jesus’ willingness to work with next to nothing. In fact, Jesus even asks us to give up our next to nothing. As Barclay says, “He does not demand from us splendors and qualities and magnificances that we do not possess. He says to us, “Come to me as you are, however ill-equipped; bring to me what you have, however little, and I will use it greatly in my service.” It really is that simple.Faith tells us that the antidote to the toxic doses of fear and blaring messages of insufficiency is found in taking the meager bits and pieces of what we have and inviting Jesus to bless them and make them more. We are invited to trust that the few loaves and fishes we bring will provide nourishment, even if we cannot see the results. Jesus accepts what we give, blesses it, breaks it open, and magnifies it -- often in ways we don’t see or cannot see or will not be able to see in this lifetime. Who knows what a kind word does? Who knows what a single act of charity will do? Sometimes the smallest word or gesture can change a life. God can take any small offering that we make -- a kind word, a brief visit to a hospital, a quick apology, a short thank-you note or e-mail, a smile -- and multiply it. We are not responsible for results, only for doing what we can with what we have. AMEN
When we last saw Jesus, he was explaining the parable of the fishing net. Between then and now in Matthew, he has returned to his hometown where an initially warm reception quickly turns sour: “When he taught there in the synagogue, everyone was amazed and said, ‘Where does he get this wisdom and the power to do miracles?’ Then they scoffed, ‘He’s just the carpenter’s son, and we know Mary, his mother, and his brothers.... All his sisters live right here among us. Where did he learn all these things?’ And they were deeply offended and refused to believe in him.” Meanwhile, Herod has heard about Jesus and determined that Jesus must be the resurrected John the Baptist. There are many Herods in the Bible. Herod the Great, the Herod who sent the Wise Men to search for Jesus, was married many times, and he had many children (although he became paranoid in his later years and murdered many members of his family). The two brothers involved in the killing of John the Baptist, Herod Philip and Herod Antipas were half-brothers. Herodias, who was married first to Herod Philip and then to Herod Antipas, was the daughter of yet another half-brother. Herod’s dancing daughter, Salome, was simultaneously his daughter, his niece, and his great niece. She later married Philip the Tetrarch, who was -- you guessed it -- half-brother to the Herods.
Imagine what must have been on Jesus’ mind when he learned that the man who had baptized him was beheaded as the result of a twisted family dynamic fueled by unchecked power and ambition. Yes, he probably had some fear that Herod would come for him next, but I believe that he most likely struggled with a mix of doubt and sorrow: doubt that people would ever accept his message, doubt that the world was worth saving, and sorrow that a man such as John the Baptist would suffer and die at the hand of an evil man like Herod. It seems likely that this moment also brought the reality of the cross into focus for Jesus as well. As John MacArthur puts it, Jesus is about to enter the final year of his ministry by transitioning from mostly public ministry to an emphasis on preparing the disciples for what is to come.
Whatever emotions Jesus hoped to work through, he was soon interrupted by a stream of uninvited visitors. Instead of being irritated, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. I am fortunate to know several people who are wired this way, people who, in the midst of their own pain are still selflessly focused on the needs of others. It is not at all unusual to visit a hospital or home to attempt to offer comfort only to end up having the person I went to visit cheering me up instead. Jesus is not a detached observer of our pain because he has suffered himself. He also doesn’t discount our suffering. During his ministry, he tended to people’s physical needs. He doesn’t just sit around and tell stories about what the Kingdom of Heaven is like, Jesus meets people where they are, in their truth. He meets them in a condition in which they wish they were not. Jesus uses the meaningful gestures of humanity to attract to the reality beyond words.
And how does he go about it? He has been healing people all day. The disciples ask him to send the people away because they are hungry and there simply isn’t enough to feed them. Jesus replies, “That isn’t necessary—you feed them.” He asks for what they have, blesses it (The usual Jewish grace is ‘Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the universe, for You bring forth bread from the earth’, a reminder that the provision of food in the normal way is itself a miracle.), breaks it, and has the disciples distribute it. The miracle itself is hidden. All that the people see is the disciples going back and forth with baskets of food while everyone eats until they are stuffed.
Now, we have all heard this story many times. Besides the resurrection, it is the only miracle that is included in all four Gospels. What can we take from it today? This time through, I have developed an appreciation for Jesus’ willingness to work with next to nothing. In fact, Jesus even asks us to give up our next to nothing. As Barclay says, “He does not demand from us splendors and qualities and magnificances that we do not possess. He says to us, “Come to me as you are, however ill-equipped; bring to me what you have, however little, and I will use it greatly in my service.” It really is that simple.Faith tells us that the antidote to the toxic doses of fear and blaring messages of insufficiency is found in taking the meager bits and pieces of what we have and inviting Jesus to bless them and make them more. We are invited to trust that the few loaves and fishes we bring will provide nourishment, even if we cannot see the results. Jesus accepts what we give, blesses it, breaks it open, and magnifies it -- often in ways we don’t see or cannot see or will not be able to see in this lifetime. Who knows what a kind word does? Who knows what a single act of charity will do? Sometimes the smallest word or gesture can change a life. God can take any small offering that we make -- a kind word, a brief visit to a hospital, a quick apology, a short thank-you note or e-mail, a smile -- and multiply it. We are not responsible for results, only for doing what we can with what we have. AMEN
Pentecost 8, July 26
This is our third week of meandering through Matthew 13, and we’ve covered nearly all of it. In a way, today’s Gospel reading feels like a potluck of leftovers as several parables are offered up together. Looking back over the chapter, I can envision Jesus standing in the boat and comparing everything that he sees to the Kingdom of Heaven: That guy over there planting his field, that field full of weeds, that patch of mustard with birds living in it, that bread that you brought for lunch, those men diving for pearls, and that net full of fish that was just brought into that boat over there… I get the feeling that he could do this all day. Notice too that he never says that the Kingdom of Heaven isn’t like; even the tares and the undesirable fish are a part of the Kingdom.
Part of the message then is that the Kingdom of Heaven is all around us. The mustard seed is tiny, the plant itself grows without cultivation, “the greatest of shrubs” is faint praise, yet the birds live as happily there as in the mighty oak or cedar. Leaven is the result of fermentation and was often used to describe the effects of evil, yet it is a necessary ingredient for bread (and we know that Jesus himself is the bread of life). We have no idea what the treasure is that the man found in the field, whether he was a bit sneaky in obtaining it, or how he was able to raise enough money to buy it; we do know that it is worth enough so that the man is willing to give up everything that he has for it. Similarly, pearls have no intrinsic value. They are rare and beautiful, but you can’t eat them, ride them, or live in them. Logically, since the parable of the fishing net comes last, it should provide a conclusion.
The parable of the fishing net is similar to the wheat and the tares in that things that have existed together are separated by the angels, the wicked will be thrown into a fiery furnace, and there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. The parable of the fishing net is followed by the statement that, “Every teacher of religious law who becomes a disciple in the Kingdom of Heaven is like a homeowner who brings from his storeroom new gems of truth as well as old.” This is immediately followed by Jesus’ return to Nazareth, where the people go from impressed by his understanding to offended by it within minutes.
Against this backdrop, the parables as a group teach us four things about the Kingdom of Heaven. First, the value of the Kingdom, even though it might seem insignificant, is greater than all else. We need to let go of other things that we hold dear if we want to obtain it. As Thomas Aquinas said, “every choice is a renunciation.” This helps explain why we struggle so painfully to make clear choices. We want the right things, but we want other things too. We want to have it all, but that is only possible if we loosen our grip on earthly treasures and reach out for the ultimate treasure.
Second, the nature of the Kingdom is to persevere to the end. That is not a guarantee that things are going to get better in this world. Part of the reason that the Kingdom is the greatest treasure is that it will endure while all other things fail. The third lesson is that the work of the Kingdom is to share this treasure with others. This comes not from the parables but from the conclusion. If you understand the parables, if you understand what real treasure is, you can’t keep it in your storeroom.
Finally (and I believe most importantly), the joy of the Kingdom is available to all. Seed is scattered indiscriminately, weeds thrive both alongside cultivated crops and in uncultivated places, treasure can be found in the middle of a field or in the bottom of the ocean, dragging a net through the sea will yield a fantastic variety of aquatic life -- both desirable and undesirable. However, there will be a judgement, and that judgement seems to be based on whether we choose to embrace or reject the Kingdom. AMEN
This is our third week of meandering through Matthew 13, and we’ve covered nearly all of it. In a way, today’s Gospel reading feels like a potluck of leftovers as several parables are offered up together. Looking back over the chapter, I can envision Jesus standing in the boat and comparing everything that he sees to the Kingdom of Heaven: That guy over there planting his field, that field full of weeds, that patch of mustard with birds living in it, that bread that you brought for lunch, those men diving for pearls, and that net full of fish that was just brought into that boat over there… I get the feeling that he could do this all day. Notice too that he never says that the Kingdom of Heaven isn’t like; even the tares and the undesirable fish are a part of the Kingdom.
Part of the message then is that the Kingdom of Heaven is all around us. The mustard seed is tiny, the plant itself grows without cultivation, “the greatest of shrubs” is faint praise, yet the birds live as happily there as in the mighty oak or cedar. Leaven is the result of fermentation and was often used to describe the effects of evil, yet it is a necessary ingredient for bread (and we know that Jesus himself is the bread of life). We have no idea what the treasure is that the man found in the field, whether he was a bit sneaky in obtaining it, or how he was able to raise enough money to buy it; we do know that it is worth enough so that the man is willing to give up everything that he has for it. Similarly, pearls have no intrinsic value. They are rare and beautiful, but you can’t eat them, ride them, or live in them. Logically, since the parable of the fishing net comes last, it should provide a conclusion.
The parable of the fishing net is similar to the wheat and the tares in that things that have existed together are separated by the angels, the wicked will be thrown into a fiery furnace, and there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. The parable of the fishing net is followed by the statement that, “Every teacher of religious law who becomes a disciple in the Kingdom of Heaven is like a homeowner who brings from his storeroom new gems of truth as well as old.” This is immediately followed by Jesus’ return to Nazareth, where the people go from impressed by his understanding to offended by it within minutes.
Against this backdrop, the parables as a group teach us four things about the Kingdom of Heaven. First, the value of the Kingdom, even though it might seem insignificant, is greater than all else. We need to let go of other things that we hold dear if we want to obtain it. As Thomas Aquinas said, “every choice is a renunciation.” This helps explain why we struggle so painfully to make clear choices. We want the right things, but we want other things too. We want to have it all, but that is only possible if we loosen our grip on earthly treasures and reach out for the ultimate treasure.
Second, the nature of the Kingdom is to persevere to the end. That is not a guarantee that things are going to get better in this world. Part of the reason that the Kingdom is the greatest treasure is that it will endure while all other things fail. The third lesson is that the work of the Kingdom is to share this treasure with others. This comes not from the parables but from the conclusion. If you understand the parables, if you understand what real treasure is, you can’t keep it in your storeroom.
Finally (and I believe most importantly), the joy of the Kingdom is available to all. Seed is scattered indiscriminately, weeds thrive both alongside cultivated crops and in uncultivated places, treasure can be found in the middle of a field or in the bottom of the ocean, dragging a net through the sea will yield a fantastic variety of aquatic life -- both desirable and undesirable. However, there will be a judgement, and that judgement seems to be based on whether we choose to embrace or reject the Kingdom. AMEN
Pentecost 7, July 19, 2020
Amid the parables in Matthew 13, Jesus says both that he speaks in parables to keep those who are not listening from understanding and that he does so to explain things hidden since the beginning of the world -- both to fulfill the prophecies of Isaiah. Both the parable of the sower and today’s parables include explanations given only to the disciples which may or may not have been added by Matthew. The parable seems to be about patience, while the explanation focuses on judgement. In a way, explaining a story is like explaining a joke. The only reason to do so is that it seems to have fallen flat, and the more you talk about it, the less effective it becomes. Interpreters also differ on virtually every detail of the story: Would a landowner with slaves actually sow his own fields? There is nothing more natural than weeds; isn’t it possible that there was no enemy sowing weed seeds? Finally, there is disagreement on whether letting the wheat grow alongside the weeds is a novel approach or whether it was the only practical option. One of the shortcomings of the parable is that wheat is wheat and darnel is darnel, which means that good and evil are fixed properties unless we choose to see the field as each person or the church instead of “the world.” It seems that we have three choices. We can decide that there are too many variables to make it worth looking at the parable any further, put each detail under a microscope, or move ahead with the understanding that our interpretation won’t be perfect. I favor the third option.
Let’s start with weeds. Weeds are inevitable. Because they have had to adapt in order to survive, they can generally out-compete crops. There is simply no such thing as a crop without weeds. Darnel, the weed in the parable, is especially problematic because it is identical to wheat until it heads out. The fact that the workers noticed it means that there was an extraordinary amount of it in the field. There is more to this event than just some malevolent seeds that sprouted in an unfortunate time and place. These seeds were spread intentionally, which tells us that there is a power at work in the world that is hostile to God. That is an important message. It is not possible to avoid evil -- we are under attack.
Then there is the decision to let the weeds grow among the wheat. Remember that it is only possible to distinguish between the two once they have headed out, so the roots will be well-established. This is a reminder that the judgement of anything that is not completed is premature. Remember that this series of parables is Jesus responding to being judged for the company that he keeps. It is likely that the disciples also had some questions like, if the Kingdom of Heaven has come, what are all of these sinners doing here? We have all had experience with questionable judgement -- people that we initially liked or disliked until we got to know them better. It is easy to speculate about people’s motives, but how can we know what is in a person’s heart? This also leads us to question how much motives matter. What are the consequences of doing the right thing for the wrong reason? We might tend to judge people based on their best or worst moments. This parable reassures us that God doesn’t work that way.
Finally, this parable tells us that there will be judgement -- that God is, in one of my favorite lines, “something other than an amiable chap who looks the other way no matter what.” Jesus uses the terms “righteous” and “evildoers.” The term “evildoers” connects doing and believing. The children of the evil one are not so because they are predestined but because of what they choose to do – evil doers. The righteous are saved. This makes us wonder, how does one become righteous? If we believe that it is through grace alone that we take on the righteousness of Christ at the point of salvation, how can the consequence for the tares be based on what they do while the consequence for the wheat is based on what they believe?
That doesn’t seem to flow – this may be down to a lack of cultural understanding because for the Hebrews ‘righteous’ was a doing word.
According to Strong’s Bible Commentary : righteous translates as “observing divine and human laws”. Verse 43 therefore becomes: “Then those keeping the commands of God will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.”
While wheat cannot become Darnel, nor Darnel wheat, the truth remains that what we do really matters, in this world and the world to come. Because evil exists, we are called to walk with Christ. Although we live in a world that seems to be overcome with weeds, we need to focus on tending our own gardens the best we can. AMEN
Amid the parables in Matthew 13, Jesus says both that he speaks in parables to keep those who are not listening from understanding and that he does so to explain things hidden since the beginning of the world -- both to fulfill the prophecies of Isaiah. Both the parable of the sower and today’s parables include explanations given only to the disciples which may or may not have been added by Matthew. The parable seems to be about patience, while the explanation focuses on judgement. In a way, explaining a story is like explaining a joke. The only reason to do so is that it seems to have fallen flat, and the more you talk about it, the less effective it becomes. Interpreters also differ on virtually every detail of the story: Would a landowner with slaves actually sow his own fields? There is nothing more natural than weeds; isn’t it possible that there was no enemy sowing weed seeds? Finally, there is disagreement on whether letting the wheat grow alongside the weeds is a novel approach or whether it was the only practical option. One of the shortcomings of the parable is that wheat is wheat and darnel is darnel, which means that good and evil are fixed properties unless we choose to see the field as each person or the church instead of “the world.” It seems that we have three choices. We can decide that there are too many variables to make it worth looking at the parable any further, put each detail under a microscope, or move ahead with the understanding that our interpretation won’t be perfect. I favor the third option.
Let’s start with weeds. Weeds are inevitable. Because they have had to adapt in order to survive, they can generally out-compete crops. There is simply no such thing as a crop without weeds. Darnel, the weed in the parable, is especially problematic because it is identical to wheat until it heads out. The fact that the workers noticed it means that there was an extraordinary amount of it in the field. There is more to this event than just some malevolent seeds that sprouted in an unfortunate time and place. These seeds were spread intentionally, which tells us that there is a power at work in the world that is hostile to God. That is an important message. It is not possible to avoid evil -- we are under attack.
Then there is the decision to let the weeds grow among the wheat. Remember that it is only possible to distinguish between the two once they have headed out, so the roots will be well-established. This is a reminder that the judgement of anything that is not completed is premature. Remember that this series of parables is Jesus responding to being judged for the company that he keeps. It is likely that the disciples also had some questions like, if the Kingdom of Heaven has come, what are all of these sinners doing here? We have all had experience with questionable judgement -- people that we initially liked or disliked until we got to know them better. It is easy to speculate about people’s motives, but how can we know what is in a person’s heart? This also leads us to question how much motives matter. What are the consequences of doing the right thing for the wrong reason? We might tend to judge people based on their best or worst moments. This parable reassures us that God doesn’t work that way.
Finally, this parable tells us that there will be judgement -- that God is, in one of my favorite lines, “something other than an amiable chap who looks the other way no matter what.” Jesus uses the terms “righteous” and “evildoers.” The term “evildoers” connects doing and believing. The children of the evil one are not so because they are predestined but because of what they choose to do – evil doers. The righteous are saved. This makes us wonder, how does one become righteous? If we believe that it is through grace alone that we take on the righteousness of Christ at the point of salvation, how can the consequence for the tares be based on what they do while the consequence for the wheat is based on what they believe?
That doesn’t seem to flow – this may be down to a lack of cultural understanding because for the Hebrews ‘righteous’ was a doing word.
According to Strong’s Bible Commentary : righteous translates as “observing divine and human laws”. Verse 43 therefore becomes: “Then those keeping the commands of God will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.”
While wheat cannot become Darnel, nor Darnel wheat, the truth remains that what we do really matters, in this world and the world to come. Because evil exists, we are called to walk with Christ. Although we live in a world that seems to be overcome with weeds, we need to focus on tending our own gardens the best we can. AMEN
Pentecost 6: July 12, 2020
Stop me if you’ve heard this one: a sower goes out to sow. He throws seeds everywhere. Some of them are eaten by birds, some sprout quickly but wither when the sun comes out, others are choked out by weeds, and some manage to grow -- producing magnificent yields. Yes, this is one of the most familiar of the parables; Jesus even explains it to the disciples in the second half of the reading, so what is left to talk about? Let’s start with what the lectionary left out: the disciples ask why Jesus taught in parables. There are many possible reasons: stories are more interesting than lectures, stories can connect what we know to what we are learning about, and stories give listeners a chance to figure out the meaning for themselves, for a few. Jesus’ answer is that he uses parables as a way of separating those who are really listening from those who are just nodding along. “To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given, and they will have an abundance of knowledge. But for those who are not listening, even what little understanding they have will be taken away from them.”
It is clear, then, that we are supposed to pay attention when Jesus speaks. This parable makes sense to me as a response to a question that the disciples must have had -- “Master, why does so much effort produce so little result?” Many of the people healed by Jesus wandered off without so much as a thank-you. Outside of the twelve, disciples came and went. The opposition to Jesus seemed to be growing instead of lessening. This is a question that we continue to wrestle with today. Why, in spite of the enduring power of the Word, does it seem like fewer and fewer people are interested in Christianity?
The story of the sower is meant to reassure them. No farmer or gardener expects every seed to grow, no matter how carefully they plant and tend them. There is always risk. Ecclesiastes 11:4 reads, “He who observes the wind will not sow; and he who regards the clouds will not reap.” If you wait for perfect conditions to plant or harvest, you will likely never do either. As Barclay put it, “You start with what you have. Don’t wait for perfect conditions; risk everything for what you believe to be right, and surely in the end the harvest will come. If we look at the types of soil as different kinds or groups of people, we will fall into the trap of hoarding seed instead of planting. After all, what looks like good soil could be concealing a ledge of rock or a host of weed seeds, or it might just lack the nutrients needed for what is being planted. Jesus doesn’t call for soil testing or variable-rate planting -- he just keeps on slinging seeds.
Our ability to listen depends on a lot of different factors, so we can see all of the different types of soil in ourselves from time to time. We sometimes hear without listening, listen without understanding, or understand without remembering. Hearing spiritually is related to the concept of deep listening. Deep listening is the idea that we listen with compassion. We listen to understand and finally we listen with intention, specifically the intention to act. In other words, to open one’s ears is to open one’s heart. In fact, the Greek word eisakouo can be defined as to hear, to heed, or to obey.
However, Jesus does not use the parable to tell us to "be good soil," as though we could make that happen. If there is any hope for the unproductive soil, it is that the sower keeps sowing generously, extravagantly, even in the least promising places. We are both the receivers of this abundance and assistants in the sharing of it. The good news is that God cares less about quantity produced and more about growth and Life coming to fruition. No matter how puny of a plant we turn out to be, God will reward us with eternal life. AMEN
Stop me if you’ve heard this one: a sower goes out to sow. He throws seeds everywhere. Some of them are eaten by birds, some sprout quickly but wither when the sun comes out, others are choked out by weeds, and some manage to grow -- producing magnificent yields. Yes, this is one of the most familiar of the parables; Jesus even explains it to the disciples in the second half of the reading, so what is left to talk about? Let’s start with what the lectionary left out: the disciples ask why Jesus taught in parables. There are many possible reasons: stories are more interesting than lectures, stories can connect what we know to what we are learning about, and stories give listeners a chance to figure out the meaning for themselves, for a few. Jesus’ answer is that he uses parables as a way of separating those who are really listening from those who are just nodding along. “To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given, and they will have an abundance of knowledge. But for those who are not listening, even what little understanding they have will be taken away from them.”
It is clear, then, that we are supposed to pay attention when Jesus speaks. This parable makes sense to me as a response to a question that the disciples must have had -- “Master, why does so much effort produce so little result?” Many of the people healed by Jesus wandered off without so much as a thank-you. Outside of the twelve, disciples came and went. The opposition to Jesus seemed to be growing instead of lessening. This is a question that we continue to wrestle with today. Why, in spite of the enduring power of the Word, does it seem like fewer and fewer people are interested in Christianity?
The story of the sower is meant to reassure them. No farmer or gardener expects every seed to grow, no matter how carefully they plant and tend them. There is always risk. Ecclesiastes 11:4 reads, “He who observes the wind will not sow; and he who regards the clouds will not reap.” If you wait for perfect conditions to plant or harvest, you will likely never do either. As Barclay put it, “You start with what you have. Don’t wait for perfect conditions; risk everything for what you believe to be right, and surely in the end the harvest will come. If we look at the types of soil as different kinds or groups of people, we will fall into the trap of hoarding seed instead of planting. After all, what looks like good soil could be concealing a ledge of rock or a host of weed seeds, or it might just lack the nutrients needed for what is being planted. Jesus doesn’t call for soil testing or variable-rate planting -- he just keeps on slinging seeds.
Our ability to listen depends on a lot of different factors, so we can see all of the different types of soil in ourselves from time to time. We sometimes hear without listening, listen without understanding, or understand without remembering. Hearing spiritually is related to the concept of deep listening. Deep listening is the idea that we listen with compassion. We listen to understand and finally we listen with intention, specifically the intention to act. In other words, to open one’s ears is to open one’s heart. In fact, the Greek word eisakouo can be defined as to hear, to heed, or to obey.
However, Jesus does not use the parable to tell us to "be good soil," as though we could make that happen. If there is any hope for the unproductive soil, it is that the sower keeps sowing generously, extravagantly, even in the least promising places. We are both the receivers of this abundance and assistants in the sharing of it. The good news is that God cares less about quantity produced and more about growth and Life coming to fruition. No matter how puny of a plant we turn out to be, God will reward us with eternal life. AMEN
Pentecost 5, July 5, 2020
Reading today’s texts on the weekend of July 4th is an interesting exercise. Zechariah talks about freeing the prisoners, but Matthew offers us a yoke while Paul is tied in knots as a slave to sin. Even today, I identify most strongly with Paul’s struggles. I remember telling my kids when they were younger that they should forgive others because “they didn’t mean to do it,” while, at the same time, expecting them to “know better.” The struggle to be “good boys and girls” doesn’t really ever seem to end. I cringe whenever I hear someone say, “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission,” but I have followed that credo myself. The idea of victimless crimes and that “it is only a crime if you get caught” can hold similar appeal.
Paul is, of course, speaking about something far deeper than simple impulse control. When Paul talks about flesh warring with spirit, he’s talking about a force that permeates every part of us, our mind, spirit, soul, body. Flesh is a very technical word which means there is a driving force within us that would center our lives on ourselves. It seems like every Old Testament story that I read for the kids has a king who is more worried about himself than he is about the people of his kingdom. You don’t have to be a king to fall into the trap of self-importance; in fact, much of what we call “freedom” is really the right to do what is best for ourselves, to say whatever is on our minds, and to act however we want to act, regardless of the feelings of others or even consequences. In short, it is the ability to disconnect ourselves from any responsibility for the greater good.
Laws, both biblical and societal, exist to protect us from this mindset -- to provide consequences for doing violence to one another, taking what doesn’t belong to us, or endangering the lives, livelihoods, and properties of others. I suppose that in a perfect world, the law would be enough. Scratch that -- there were only two people and one rule in the Garden of Eden, and we know how that turned out! The problem, as Paul points out, is not with the laws, but with our willingness or ability to follow them. I like the image of people being separated into three groups: the “green” group is made up of people who will follow whatever rules are put in front of them, whether or not there are consequences for not doing so. The “red” group sees rules as a challenge. They will not follow any rules that do not serve their own interests. Consequences are seen as an acceptable risk or even as a badge of honor. Their motto is, “make me.” The largest group is the yellow group. They follow rules that make sense to them and ignore those that don’t. Rewards and/or consequences may be effective in shaping their behavior.
When Paul talks about the spirit of the law of God at work in our mind, he’s talking about another force which permeates every part of us. It’s an energy, a desire, which empowers us to live, to serve, to give, to affirm, to care, to risk our self, to share, or in other words, to be motivated by God’s Spirit for life and peace. This force does not eliminate our tendency to put ourselves first; it exists alongside it. This is the revelation that changed Luther’s life. Like Paul, he couldn’t understand why, with all of his focus on overcoming sin, he couldn’t make the transition from sinner to saint. It was only when he understood that he was both simultaneously that he found satisfaction. Although the struggle is lifelong, the grace of God means that the outcome has already been determined.
How are we to respond to that? We cannot expect to become perfect in this life, so how much effort should we put into it? We confess both that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves and that Christ took our sins to the cross. We know that there is no sin so great that it cannot be forgiven. The Sunday school answer is “ because Jesus,” but what does that mean? Paul seems to be saying that the recognition of this struggle is the first step in dealing with it. You can’t possibly find any kind of resolution without facing the problem. Too often we Christians tend to act as though the conflict does not exist. Too often, we live with a veneer of piety and outward goodness that makes it impossible for us to face the depth and the force of the conflict which wars within us.
I think that the answer is fairly simple: Jesus wants us not to sin. If our response to forgiveness is to sin some more, we have a problem. Alongside the gift of grace, we were given the gift of the Spirit to assist us in cleaning up our acts. Temptation will not go away, but, as Luther said, “ our righteousness is more abundant than our sin, because the holiness and the righteousness of Christ vastly surpasses the sin of the entire world. Consequently, the forgiveness of sins, which we have through Him, is so great, so abundant, and so infinite that it easily swallows up every sin, provided that we persevere in faith and hope toward Him.” We have been given a gift, but we are responsible for the care and maintenance of that gift. AMEN
Reading today’s texts on the weekend of July 4th is an interesting exercise. Zechariah talks about freeing the prisoners, but Matthew offers us a yoke while Paul is tied in knots as a slave to sin. Even today, I identify most strongly with Paul’s struggles. I remember telling my kids when they were younger that they should forgive others because “they didn’t mean to do it,” while, at the same time, expecting them to “know better.” The struggle to be “good boys and girls” doesn’t really ever seem to end. I cringe whenever I hear someone say, “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission,” but I have followed that credo myself. The idea of victimless crimes and that “it is only a crime if you get caught” can hold similar appeal.
Paul is, of course, speaking about something far deeper than simple impulse control. When Paul talks about flesh warring with spirit, he’s talking about a force that permeates every part of us, our mind, spirit, soul, body. Flesh is a very technical word which means there is a driving force within us that would center our lives on ourselves. It seems like every Old Testament story that I read for the kids has a king who is more worried about himself than he is about the people of his kingdom. You don’t have to be a king to fall into the trap of self-importance; in fact, much of what we call “freedom” is really the right to do what is best for ourselves, to say whatever is on our minds, and to act however we want to act, regardless of the feelings of others or even consequences. In short, it is the ability to disconnect ourselves from any responsibility for the greater good.
Laws, both biblical and societal, exist to protect us from this mindset -- to provide consequences for doing violence to one another, taking what doesn’t belong to us, or endangering the lives, livelihoods, and properties of others. I suppose that in a perfect world, the law would be enough. Scratch that -- there were only two people and one rule in the Garden of Eden, and we know how that turned out! The problem, as Paul points out, is not with the laws, but with our willingness or ability to follow them. I like the image of people being separated into three groups: the “green” group is made up of people who will follow whatever rules are put in front of them, whether or not there are consequences for not doing so. The “red” group sees rules as a challenge. They will not follow any rules that do not serve their own interests. Consequences are seen as an acceptable risk or even as a badge of honor. Their motto is, “make me.” The largest group is the yellow group. They follow rules that make sense to them and ignore those that don’t. Rewards and/or consequences may be effective in shaping their behavior.
When Paul talks about the spirit of the law of God at work in our mind, he’s talking about another force which permeates every part of us. It’s an energy, a desire, which empowers us to live, to serve, to give, to affirm, to care, to risk our self, to share, or in other words, to be motivated by God’s Spirit for life and peace. This force does not eliminate our tendency to put ourselves first; it exists alongside it. This is the revelation that changed Luther’s life. Like Paul, he couldn’t understand why, with all of his focus on overcoming sin, he couldn’t make the transition from sinner to saint. It was only when he understood that he was both simultaneously that he found satisfaction. Although the struggle is lifelong, the grace of God means that the outcome has already been determined.
How are we to respond to that? We cannot expect to become perfect in this life, so how much effort should we put into it? We confess both that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves and that Christ took our sins to the cross. We know that there is no sin so great that it cannot be forgiven. The Sunday school answer is “ because Jesus,” but what does that mean? Paul seems to be saying that the recognition of this struggle is the first step in dealing with it. You can’t possibly find any kind of resolution without facing the problem. Too often we Christians tend to act as though the conflict does not exist. Too often, we live with a veneer of piety and outward goodness that makes it impossible for us to face the depth and the force of the conflict which wars within us.
I think that the answer is fairly simple: Jesus wants us not to sin. If our response to forgiveness is to sin some more, we have a problem. Alongside the gift of grace, we were given the gift of the Spirit to assist us in cleaning up our acts. Temptation will not go away, but, as Luther said, “ our righteousness is more abundant than our sin, because the holiness and the righteousness of Christ vastly surpasses the sin of the entire world. Consequently, the forgiveness of sins, which we have through Him, is so great, so abundant, and so infinite that it easily swallows up every sin, provided that we persevere in faith and hope toward Him.” We have been given a gift, but we are responsible for the care and maintenance of that gift. AMEN
Pentecost 4, June 28, 2020
Today’s gospel is full of if/then statements, so it is easy to read it as a set of instructions. In fact, it is tempting to use the whole Bible as a rulebook or a manual on how to get to Heaven. Of course there are hundreds of commandments in the Bible (although Jesus whittles the list down to one or two), and examining the way that we live in light of those commandments is a useful exercise, but there is much more to the Christian life than using the Bible as a measuring stick. In fact, realizing how far we are from being able to follow the rules is the first step in admitting our need for forgiveness and grace.
This reading mentions three groups: prophets, who speak for God, the righteous, who embody God’s word through their actions, and “the little ones (or least of these)” who are not yet mature in their faith. Rather than choosing one of these titles for ourselves, we should view ourselves as a combination of the three. Our relationship with God is described as being “in Christ” or as “putting on Christ.” we were created in God’s image. We are not low-quality “Jesus impersonators.” Christ actually lives in us and we in Christ. At times, Christ comes through in our words, at other times, in our actions, and sometimes not at all.
The focus of this passage is hospitality, which I fear is becoming a lost art. Jesus speaks of offering a cup of cold water. In his time, that meant a journey to the well for fresh water -- not simply offering what had been fetched earlier. You might see that as a minor distinction, but I believe that it matters. As a part of my job, I read a lot of obituaries, and I can’t tell you how many times words like “everyone was always welcome in her kitchen,” or “she was famous for always sharing her special brownies,” or “his favorite times were hosting the grandkids at the lake and playing cards with them.” The thing that I most remember about my Grandpa Ben was that he would always come in from the field or put aside what he was doing to play with me and my sisters.
Hospitality is something that we all need to give and to receive. As I said, it seems to be becoming a lost art in a world of multi-tasking. One cannot be truly hospitable with one eye on his phone, while watching television, or while focusing on what they will be doing for supper. True hospitality involves putting the needs of the other before our own desires. Gee, that seems awfully close to the commandment to love our neighbors before ourselves, doesn’t it?
Sometimes we act as if we believe that we are the result of the gospel instead of the proclaimers of the gospel -- that Jesus came to save us, that we have accepted that salvation, and that we can wait quietly for our heavenly reward. No such luck! Just as we confess that we have sinned in thought, word and deed, we are called to profess in thought, word and deed and according to our gifts. We are not Jesus impersonators, yet, somehow, the Holy Spirit dwells in and works through each of us and peeks through whenever we are able to get out of the way.
Jesus tells us that we bear His presence to every person we encounter, in every home, workplace, and neighborhood that we enter. Yes, the gift comes with responsibility, not to earn what we have been given, but to live our faith and not take it for granted. We might think that Jesus should choose someone more qualified, but we have already been called and chosen, and that’s pretty good news. AMEN
Today’s gospel is full of if/then statements, so it is easy to read it as a set of instructions. In fact, it is tempting to use the whole Bible as a rulebook or a manual on how to get to Heaven. Of course there are hundreds of commandments in the Bible (although Jesus whittles the list down to one or two), and examining the way that we live in light of those commandments is a useful exercise, but there is much more to the Christian life than using the Bible as a measuring stick. In fact, realizing how far we are from being able to follow the rules is the first step in admitting our need for forgiveness and grace.
This reading mentions three groups: prophets, who speak for God, the righteous, who embody God’s word through their actions, and “the little ones (or least of these)” who are not yet mature in their faith. Rather than choosing one of these titles for ourselves, we should view ourselves as a combination of the three. Our relationship with God is described as being “in Christ” or as “putting on Christ.” we were created in God’s image. We are not low-quality “Jesus impersonators.” Christ actually lives in us and we in Christ. At times, Christ comes through in our words, at other times, in our actions, and sometimes not at all.
The focus of this passage is hospitality, which I fear is becoming a lost art. Jesus speaks of offering a cup of cold water. In his time, that meant a journey to the well for fresh water -- not simply offering what had been fetched earlier. You might see that as a minor distinction, but I believe that it matters. As a part of my job, I read a lot of obituaries, and I can’t tell you how many times words like “everyone was always welcome in her kitchen,” or “she was famous for always sharing her special brownies,” or “his favorite times were hosting the grandkids at the lake and playing cards with them.” The thing that I most remember about my Grandpa Ben was that he would always come in from the field or put aside what he was doing to play with me and my sisters.
Hospitality is something that we all need to give and to receive. As I said, it seems to be becoming a lost art in a world of multi-tasking. One cannot be truly hospitable with one eye on his phone, while watching television, or while focusing on what they will be doing for supper. True hospitality involves putting the needs of the other before our own desires. Gee, that seems awfully close to the commandment to love our neighbors before ourselves, doesn’t it?
Sometimes we act as if we believe that we are the result of the gospel instead of the proclaimers of the gospel -- that Jesus came to save us, that we have accepted that salvation, and that we can wait quietly for our heavenly reward. No such luck! Just as we confess that we have sinned in thought, word and deed, we are called to profess in thought, word and deed and according to our gifts. We are not Jesus impersonators, yet, somehow, the Holy Spirit dwells in and works through each of us and peeks through whenever we are able to get out of the way.
Jesus tells us that we bear His presence to every person we encounter, in every home, workplace, and neighborhood that we enter. Yes, the gift comes with responsibility, not to earn what we have been given, but to live our faith and not take it for granted. We might think that Jesus should choose someone more qualified, but we have already been called and chosen, and that’s pretty good news. AMEN
Pentecost 3, June 21, 2020
Jesus’ words in this week’s gospel reading are hard to hear on many levels. The fact that Jesus says some version of “do not be afraid” three times in the passage shows that he understood that. We begin with the charge to proclaim what we have heard from the rooftops. Even as a pastor, this scares me. It is one thing to talk about God here at church, and quite another to do so in public. Saying, “I will pray for you,” or “thank the Lord for this wonderful rain shower” is a far cry from shouting the good news from the rooftops. It gets even tougher as Jesus says, "Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.” It seems that there are consequences for our actions!
What does it mean to deny Jesus? My trusty 1956 Barclay commentary says, “Sometimes we say to other people, practically in so many words, that we are Church members, but not to worry about it too much; that we have no intention of being different; that we are prepared to take our full share in all the pleasures of the world; and that we do not expect people to take any special trouble to respect any vague principles that we may have.” That feeds right into the most troubling section of this passage, which begins,"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Our faith isn’t supposed to be something that we add to the mix of our lives; the love of God is supposed to be at the very center of our lives, even more central than our love for our families.
Wait a minute. It is one thing to talk about bringing a sword, but nobody can tell me that anything is more important than my family! To make it even worse, Jesus tells us,”Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” What do we do with the fact that Jesus is telling us to do something that many of us aren’t willing to do -- something that seems counter to what we think of as Christian values?
At the heart of this message are two opposed forces -- fear and love. Jesus says, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” This can’t be a simple, “You’re going to get it when your father gets home” threat. It seems to me that it is essential that we acknowledge the power of God. This sounds easier than it is. God’s forgiveness is great until you realize that accepting it means acknowledging that you’re a rather greasy, guilty sinner. Has anyone ever offered to forgive you for something you don’t think you did? Similarly, accepting God’s grace means admitting that we need help. That is where fear gets ahold of us. How can we be proud of ourselves, how can others respect us if we lack the self-control to quit sinning? How can we overcome the stigma that comes with asking for help?
Let’s begin by making a list of our fears: the things that have power over us. Mine would include saying something in a sermon or in a meeting that would offend members of the church enough so that they would speak out against me, the fear that people don’t like me, that they don’t think that I’m smart, that they are just politely tolerating me. That is just a fraction of my list, but it clearly shows my limitations when it comes to being an effective messenger for God!
On the other side, there is love. Jesus talks about loving him more than we love our families, but how do we measure love? One of my sources said that, “Hierarchies of love work only on paper. When we love our children, we love them absolutely. We do not rank them on a descending list.” Another thing that we don’t do is to run out of love; this isn’t an either/or proposition. As the song says, “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you
Allelu Alleluia.”
My plan begins with admitting that I’m not worthy. After that, I’m going to focus on the promise that there is a love even greater than what I feel when I am holding one of my grandchildren. Barclay said, “Again and again life brings us the opportunity to speak some word for Christ, to utter some protest against evil, to take some stand, and to show what side we are on. Again and again on such occasions it is easier to keep silence than to speak. But such silence is in itself a denial of Jesus Christ.” I am going to attempt to speak up for Christ as readily and as firmly as if someone is threatening my family. This won’t be easy, and I’ll probably never get all the way there, but it is a start. AMEN
Jesus’ words in this week’s gospel reading are hard to hear on many levels. The fact that Jesus says some version of “do not be afraid” three times in the passage shows that he understood that. We begin with the charge to proclaim what we have heard from the rooftops. Even as a pastor, this scares me. It is one thing to talk about God here at church, and quite another to do so in public. Saying, “I will pray for you,” or “thank the Lord for this wonderful rain shower” is a far cry from shouting the good news from the rooftops. It gets even tougher as Jesus says, "Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.” It seems that there are consequences for our actions!
What does it mean to deny Jesus? My trusty 1956 Barclay commentary says, “Sometimes we say to other people, practically in so many words, that we are Church members, but not to worry about it too much; that we have no intention of being different; that we are prepared to take our full share in all the pleasures of the world; and that we do not expect people to take any special trouble to respect any vague principles that we may have.” That feeds right into the most troubling section of this passage, which begins,"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Our faith isn’t supposed to be something that we add to the mix of our lives; the love of God is supposed to be at the very center of our lives, even more central than our love for our families.
Wait a minute. It is one thing to talk about bringing a sword, but nobody can tell me that anything is more important than my family! To make it even worse, Jesus tells us,”Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” What do we do with the fact that Jesus is telling us to do something that many of us aren’t willing to do -- something that seems counter to what we think of as Christian values?
At the heart of this message are two opposed forces -- fear and love. Jesus says, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” This can’t be a simple, “You’re going to get it when your father gets home” threat. It seems to me that it is essential that we acknowledge the power of God. This sounds easier than it is. God’s forgiveness is great until you realize that accepting it means acknowledging that you’re a rather greasy, guilty sinner. Has anyone ever offered to forgive you for something you don’t think you did? Similarly, accepting God’s grace means admitting that we need help. That is where fear gets ahold of us. How can we be proud of ourselves, how can others respect us if we lack the self-control to quit sinning? How can we overcome the stigma that comes with asking for help?
Let’s begin by making a list of our fears: the things that have power over us. Mine would include saying something in a sermon or in a meeting that would offend members of the church enough so that they would speak out against me, the fear that people don’t like me, that they don’t think that I’m smart, that they are just politely tolerating me. That is just a fraction of my list, but it clearly shows my limitations when it comes to being an effective messenger for God!
On the other side, there is love. Jesus talks about loving him more than we love our families, but how do we measure love? One of my sources said that, “Hierarchies of love work only on paper. When we love our children, we love them absolutely. We do not rank them on a descending list.” Another thing that we don’t do is to run out of love; this isn’t an either/or proposition. As the song says, “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you
Allelu Alleluia.”
My plan begins with admitting that I’m not worthy. After that, I’m going to focus on the promise that there is a love even greater than what I feel when I am holding one of my grandchildren. Barclay said, “Again and again life brings us the opportunity to speak some word for Christ, to utter some protest against evil, to take some stand, and to show what side we are on. Again and again on such occasions it is easier to keep silence than to speak. But such silence is in itself a denial of Jesus Christ.” I am going to attempt to speak up for Christ as readily and as firmly as if someone is threatening my family. This won’t be easy, and I’ll probably never get all the way there, but it is a start. AMEN
Pentecost 2, June 14, 2020
This has been a difficult gospel reading for me to unravel. It is yet another commission from Jesus. This time, the twelve disciples are told to, “proclaim the good news, "The kingdom of heaven has come near.' Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.”, but only among the Jews. There is an urgency to the sending -- they are told to quickly determine who will receive their blessing, welcome them and listen to them. Those who will not will be dealt with harshly. The passage ends, “you will be hated by all because of my name. But the one who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next; for truly I tell you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.”
The image that kicks off the mission, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest." seems warm and fuzzy on the surface. The harvest is a time of celebration: Passover occurs at the time of the barley harvest and Pentecost coincides with the wheat harvest. Festivals marking the harvest are nearly universal. On the other hand, harvest is also a time of reckoning. The yield and quality of the crops are established. The seed is separated from the plant. At planting time, there is room for optimism -- harvest is reality.
The more time that I spend with this passage, the more the words, “The kingdom of heaven has come near,” sound like a warning. After all, the wheat and the tares were separated after the harvest, the sheep and the goats were separated at the time of judgement, John the Baptist said that Jesus would come “His winnowing fork in his hand to clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the granary and burning the chaff with unquenchable fire.” The disciples are to make no effort to linger, convince or convert. They seem to be in a race against time.
How do we see this passage today? What do we believe about salvation and our role in it? How do we respond to Paul’s message of grace and hope in the midst of unworthiness? Let’s start with a simple question: Do you feel sent? Do you believe that God put you in this place and time for a reason? If the answer is yes, how are you doing on understanding that reason? Are you completely baffled, do you catch an occasional glimpse, or has it unfolded clearly before you? How much time do you spend wondering about what your purpose might be? Do you talk about it with others, read books and articles, pray?
It is interesting that this particular commission doesn’t involve worship. Jesus speaks in the synagogues, but he sends the disciples into homes and streets. Their proclamation of the good news doesn’t take the form of sermons, but of blessings and healings. “Peace be with you,” or some variation, is a solid blessing that we can certainly use in our daily lives. While most of us are unable to literally cure the sick, none of us can raise the dead, and many of us don’t believe that demons actually exist, we can certainly do healing work as well. We can be more careful in evaluating what we say and what we post online. We can be honest about our own strengths and weaknesses. We can enter into conversations where we don’t have all of the answers. We can be vulnerable.
Perhaps the best thing we can do is to ponder the question, is the Kingdom of heaven near, and then begin the work on figuring out what our response means in our lives. AMEN
This has been a difficult gospel reading for me to unravel. It is yet another commission from Jesus. This time, the twelve disciples are told to, “proclaim the good news, "The kingdom of heaven has come near.' Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.”, but only among the Jews. There is an urgency to the sending -- they are told to quickly determine who will receive their blessing, welcome them and listen to them. Those who will not will be dealt with harshly. The passage ends, “you will be hated by all because of my name. But the one who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next; for truly I tell you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.”
The image that kicks off the mission, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest." seems warm and fuzzy on the surface. The harvest is a time of celebration: Passover occurs at the time of the barley harvest and Pentecost coincides with the wheat harvest. Festivals marking the harvest are nearly universal. On the other hand, harvest is also a time of reckoning. The yield and quality of the crops are established. The seed is separated from the plant. At planting time, there is room for optimism -- harvest is reality.
The more time that I spend with this passage, the more the words, “The kingdom of heaven has come near,” sound like a warning. After all, the wheat and the tares were separated after the harvest, the sheep and the goats were separated at the time of judgement, John the Baptist said that Jesus would come “His winnowing fork in his hand to clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the granary and burning the chaff with unquenchable fire.” The disciples are to make no effort to linger, convince or convert. They seem to be in a race against time.
How do we see this passage today? What do we believe about salvation and our role in it? How do we respond to Paul’s message of grace and hope in the midst of unworthiness? Let’s start with a simple question: Do you feel sent? Do you believe that God put you in this place and time for a reason? If the answer is yes, how are you doing on understanding that reason? Are you completely baffled, do you catch an occasional glimpse, or has it unfolded clearly before you? How much time do you spend wondering about what your purpose might be? Do you talk about it with others, read books and articles, pray?
It is interesting that this particular commission doesn’t involve worship. Jesus speaks in the synagogues, but he sends the disciples into homes and streets. Their proclamation of the good news doesn’t take the form of sermons, but of blessings and healings. “Peace be with you,” or some variation, is a solid blessing that we can certainly use in our daily lives. While most of us are unable to literally cure the sick, none of us can raise the dead, and many of us don’t believe that demons actually exist, we can certainly do healing work as well. We can be more careful in evaluating what we say and what we post online. We can be honest about our own strengths and weaknesses. We can enter into conversations where we don’t have all of the answers. We can be vulnerable.
Perhaps the best thing we can do is to ponder the question, is the Kingdom of heaven near, and then begin the work on figuring out what our response means in our lives. AMEN
Holy Trinity Sunday, June 7, 2020
Our reading this morning is the end of Matthew’s gospel. Only five verses separate Jesus' command to the women at the tomb on Easter Sunday, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee, there they will see me.” and his appearance before the eleven remaining disciples. Matthew’s gospel contains no other resurrection appearances and no ascension -- this is it.
So what jumps out at you from the reading? We have “the great commission,” which we have heard many times before. There is no consensus on what makes this commission so great; Jesus doesn’t say that it is great. Somewhere along the line, someone decided that it was the most important charge that Jesus gave the disciples or that it summed up all of Jesus’ instruction. Whatever the reason, “making disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit” has been seen as the God-given mission of the church. But what does it mean? Let’s start with the idea of “making disciples.” The King James translation says, “go forth and teach all nations.” There is also the possibility of using “disciple” as a verb -- go forth and disciple all nations. The issue is how can one “make” a disciple? Jesus didn’t make disciples -- he called disciples. In the sixth chapter of John’s gospel, Jesus is trying to explain who he is. Upon hearing his explanation, many of his disciples say, “This teaching is difficult, who can accept it?” In verse 66, “many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.” Jesus’ track record of making disciples was abysmal; in three years he “made” 12, one of whom betrayed him and all of whom abandoned him in his hour of need.
If we are to be teachers, what are we to teach? Jesus says, “to obey everything that I have commanded you.” A summary of Jesus’ commands from Matthew reads: Be reconciled to one another. Love your enemies. Do not retaliate against evil. Pray, fast, and give alms, but not in a way that draws attention to yourself. Deny yourself. Above all, love God and love your neighbor. Notice, too, that Jesus doesn’t tell them to memorize his teachings, but to obey them. It simply won’t work for the disciples to say, “do as I say, not as I do”, or to point out where others fall short. Words simply won’t be enough to get the job done. The disciples are being sent out to publicly live their faith so that others might follow their example. They are called to baptize, but theirs is John’s baptism of repentance. All authority has been given not to them, but to Jesus. They can baptize, but the Spirit does the heavy lifting.
Perhaps the most important line of this passage is, “they worshipped him, but some doubted.” We don’t have details, but the relief that the disciples must have felt when they realized that not only had Jesus risen from the dead, but he had also forgiven them resulted in some sort of expression of their adoration. We don’t know who exactly doubted, but it seems likely that they all held on to some disbelief that the impossible had, indeed, happened. The best news was that this doubt didn’t keep them from basking in the presence of their risen lord. Their doubt is, in fact, a vital tool for their ministry. These disciples whom he tells to "go" are in no position to make themselves the object of faith.
When it comes to teaching and learning, certainty is overrated. You can’t teach someone who already believes that he knows everything, and understanding can’t be transferred without experience. Jesus taught the disciples by demonstrating his power repeatedly, by explaining how he was fulfilling the words of the prophets, and, most of all, by living out his call alongside them. We are not called to force our beliefs onto others. We are called to be a part of the process of reuniting heaven and earth that began with Jesus. AMEN
Our reading this morning is the end of Matthew’s gospel. Only five verses separate Jesus' command to the women at the tomb on Easter Sunday, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee, there they will see me.” and his appearance before the eleven remaining disciples. Matthew’s gospel contains no other resurrection appearances and no ascension -- this is it.
So what jumps out at you from the reading? We have “the great commission,” which we have heard many times before. There is no consensus on what makes this commission so great; Jesus doesn’t say that it is great. Somewhere along the line, someone decided that it was the most important charge that Jesus gave the disciples or that it summed up all of Jesus’ instruction. Whatever the reason, “making disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit” has been seen as the God-given mission of the church. But what does it mean? Let’s start with the idea of “making disciples.” The King James translation says, “go forth and teach all nations.” There is also the possibility of using “disciple” as a verb -- go forth and disciple all nations. The issue is how can one “make” a disciple? Jesus didn’t make disciples -- he called disciples. In the sixth chapter of John’s gospel, Jesus is trying to explain who he is. Upon hearing his explanation, many of his disciples say, “This teaching is difficult, who can accept it?” In verse 66, “many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.” Jesus’ track record of making disciples was abysmal; in three years he “made” 12, one of whom betrayed him and all of whom abandoned him in his hour of need.
If we are to be teachers, what are we to teach? Jesus says, “to obey everything that I have commanded you.” A summary of Jesus’ commands from Matthew reads: Be reconciled to one another. Love your enemies. Do not retaliate against evil. Pray, fast, and give alms, but not in a way that draws attention to yourself. Deny yourself. Above all, love God and love your neighbor. Notice, too, that Jesus doesn’t tell them to memorize his teachings, but to obey them. It simply won’t work for the disciples to say, “do as I say, not as I do”, or to point out where others fall short. Words simply won’t be enough to get the job done. The disciples are being sent out to publicly live their faith so that others might follow their example. They are called to baptize, but theirs is John’s baptism of repentance. All authority has been given not to them, but to Jesus. They can baptize, but the Spirit does the heavy lifting.
Perhaps the most important line of this passage is, “they worshipped him, but some doubted.” We don’t have details, but the relief that the disciples must have felt when they realized that not only had Jesus risen from the dead, but he had also forgiven them resulted in some sort of expression of their adoration. We don’t know who exactly doubted, but it seems likely that they all held on to some disbelief that the impossible had, indeed, happened. The best news was that this doubt didn’t keep them from basking in the presence of their risen lord. Their doubt is, in fact, a vital tool for their ministry. These disciples whom he tells to "go" are in no position to make themselves the object of faith.
When it comes to teaching and learning, certainty is overrated. You can’t teach someone who already believes that he knows everything, and understanding can’t be transferred without experience. Jesus taught the disciples by demonstrating his power repeatedly, by explaining how he was fulfilling the words of the prophets, and, most of all, by living out his call alongside them. We are not called to force our beliefs onto others. We are called to be a part of the process of reuniting heaven and earth that began with Jesus. AMEN
Pentecost: May 31, 2020
Pentecost is a big deal: It marks the fulfilling of a promise, the closing of a circle, the birth of the Church, and the availability of eternal life to all people. The message of Pentecost is that God is placing the love that is himself deep into our own spirits! It is easy to overlook Pentecost, mostly because the secular world does. In the world, “real” celebrations offer the opportunity to drink too much, eat too much, and spend too much. They come with decorations and symbolic characters like leprechauns, bunnies, or fat guys in red velvet suits. In church, we celebrate the birth and resurrection of Jesus with pageants and egg bake. What about Pentecost?
One of the problems with Pentecost is the lack of ink that it gets in the Bible. The Spirit is mentioned throughout the Old and New testaments, but our only true account is found in Acts. As I have mentioned before, the lectionary for the Easter season bounces around from the resurrection appearances back to the Last Supper. Today’s Gospel was actually part of the reading for the second week of Easter. At the time that the Bible was written, the idea of the Holy Trinity as we think of it today didn’t exist. Matthew, Mark and Luke did their best to tell the story of Jesus’ life as they remembered and understood it. John’s Gospel is more interested in building the connection between the Father, the Son, the Spirit, and the disciples.
The Pentecost account in Acts is presented as a counterpoint to the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11. Those people decided to defy God and, instead of populating the earth, make a name for themselves by building a tower to reach heaven. As a punishment, God punished them by scattering them and causing them to no longer be able to understand one another. In Acts, the disciples are faithfully awaiting the coming of the Holy Spirit and celebrating Pentecost when the wind blows and flames appear over their heads. Although there are people from many lands who speak various languages, they are suddenly able to understand one another.
The reading from John retells another story from Genesis -- God breathing life into Adam. When Jesus breathes on the disciples, they are created. He has made them living souls, the first children of God alive in this new world. There are three central facts that these different stories reveal:
• The Father is so much within Jesus that if you know Jesus you know the Father.
• If you let him, Jesus will be within you just as the Father is in him.
• This will happen by the sending of the Holy Spirit, who is the “insides” of Jesus and of the Father. The Spirit is the love they have for each other, the closeness, the great sharing.
The reading from 1 Corintians adds the variety of gifts that the Spirit gives, along with the reminder that these gifts have all been given for the common good. These gifts speak through us more loudly and clearly, either in their presence or their absence, than do all our words and gestures. Like the limbs of a single body, the separated members of the human race have been restored to unity by being joined to Christ, their common head, and welded into the oneness of a holy body by the fire of love. Anyone therefore who rejects the gift of peace and withdraws from the fellowship of this unity cuts himself off from the gift of the Holy Spirit. AMEN
Pentecost is a big deal: It marks the fulfilling of a promise, the closing of a circle, the birth of the Church, and the availability of eternal life to all people. The message of Pentecost is that God is placing the love that is himself deep into our own spirits! It is easy to overlook Pentecost, mostly because the secular world does. In the world, “real” celebrations offer the opportunity to drink too much, eat too much, and spend too much. They come with decorations and symbolic characters like leprechauns, bunnies, or fat guys in red velvet suits. In church, we celebrate the birth and resurrection of Jesus with pageants and egg bake. What about Pentecost?
One of the problems with Pentecost is the lack of ink that it gets in the Bible. The Spirit is mentioned throughout the Old and New testaments, but our only true account is found in Acts. As I have mentioned before, the lectionary for the Easter season bounces around from the resurrection appearances back to the Last Supper. Today’s Gospel was actually part of the reading for the second week of Easter. At the time that the Bible was written, the idea of the Holy Trinity as we think of it today didn’t exist. Matthew, Mark and Luke did their best to tell the story of Jesus’ life as they remembered and understood it. John’s Gospel is more interested in building the connection between the Father, the Son, the Spirit, and the disciples.
The Pentecost account in Acts is presented as a counterpoint to the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11. Those people decided to defy God and, instead of populating the earth, make a name for themselves by building a tower to reach heaven. As a punishment, God punished them by scattering them and causing them to no longer be able to understand one another. In Acts, the disciples are faithfully awaiting the coming of the Holy Spirit and celebrating Pentecost when the wind blows and flames appear over their heads. Although there are people from many lands who speak various languages, they are suddenly able to understand one another.
The reading from John retells another story from Genesis -- God breathing life into Adam. When Jesus breathes on the disciples, they are created. He has made them living souls, the first children of God alive in this new world. There are three central facts that these different stories reveal:
• The Father is so much within Jesus that if you know Jesus you know the Father.
• If you let him, Jesus will be within you just as the Father is in him.
• This will happen by the sending of the Holy Spirit, who is the “insides” of Jesus and of the Father. The Spirit is the love they have for each other, the closeness, the great sharing.
The reading from 1 Corintians adds the variety of gifts that the Spirit gives, along with the reminder that these gifts have all been given for the common good. These gifts speak through us more loudly and clearly, either in their presence or their absence, than do all our words and gestures. Like the limbs of a single body, the separated members of the human race have been restored to unity by being joined to Christ, their common head, and welded into the oneness of a holy body by the fire of love. Anyone therefore who rejects the gift of peace and withdraws from the fellowship of this unity cuts himself off from the gift of the Holy Spirit. AMEN
Easter 7, May 24, 2020
Today we find ourselves firmly in the in-between. At one time, this used to be referred to as “Expectation Sunday” because it falls between the Ascension and Pentecost Sunday. As a lifelong Lutheran, I admit that I’ve never really celebrated the ascension. Luke tells us that forty days after Easter, Jesus led the disciples to Bethany, raised his hands, blessed them, withdrew from them and was carried into heaven. In his sequel, Acts, Luke recounts Jesus having a conversation with the disciples that concludes, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." Luke also adds a cloud for transportation and two angelic figures to give directions. The disciples then return to the upper room and spend the next ten days in prayer and preparation for the coming of the Spirit.
Although 40 days have passed, the season of Easter is not over. While the disciples are in the upper room praying, the lectionary brings us back to the upper room, pre-crucifixion, where we find Jesus praying among the disciples. We are still in John’s gospel, where there is no Lord’s Prayer, and Jesus doesn’t pray in the garden of Gethsemane. John’s Jesus never asks God to take the cup from him, and he never cries out “why have you forsaken me?” from the cross. This prayer occupies the fourth chapter between the Last Supper and the betrayal of Jesus -- chapters that have been filled with Christ’s final instructions to the disciples. This is as close as John will get to, “Lord, teach us to pray.”
Our second lesson for today gives us some lovely advice: “Cast your cares upon God because God cares for you.” I have mashed together a few translations to get this wording because it matches up better with the circularity and repetition of Jesus’ prayer. The word cast has associations with casting off in a boat, casting a lure, or being a castaway -- separation. We can separate from our prayers by giving them to God. Because God cares for us, God is willing to deal with our castoffs. In that sense, prayer is an unloading. When we pray for others, another opportunity arises. Instead of the giver-receiver relationship, this kind of prayer involves three entities: the one praying, the one being prayed for, and God. Sometimes we see the results of our prayers, but it usually takes time. There is only one truth about prayer that we can observe immediately: we know that it changes us as we grow closer to God and are bound more fully to one another.
In his prayer in the upper room, Jesus understands himself in relation to God, but also in relation to the disciples and those who will follow later. These are not three separate parts; they are all mixed together. We are joined in this in-between time by the communion of Saints, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the Body of Christ and all believers yet to come. This is eternal life: “that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” This is the understanding that we need as we approach Pentecost (which is another season of the church year that I don’t quite understand.
So what do we take from this today? We are clearly in a between time as we begin to emerge from shut-down orders, and the transition will be difficult. Somehow, a mixture of science, politics, economics, emotion, and maybe even common sense will be needed to move forward. It is not as simple as deciding what is “essential” and what isn’t because that line simply isn’t clear. As we discuss our rights, whether in light of the constitution or in the light of our faith, we need to remember that we are a part of something much larger than ourselves. Larger than our families, our communities, our states or our nation. We are a part of all of creation and of life eternal. As we move forward, let us do so prayerfully. AMEN
Today we find ourselves firmly in the in-between. At one time, this used to be referred to as “Expectation Sunday” because it falls between the Ascension and Pentecost Sunday. As a lifelong Lutheran, I admit that I’ve never really celebrated the ascension. Luke tells us that forty days after Easter, Jesus led the disciples to Bethany, raised his hands, blessed them, withdrew from them and was carried into heaven. In his sequel, Acts, Luke recounts Jesus having a conversation with the disciples that concludes, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." Luke also adds a cloud for transportation and two angelic figures to give directions. The disciples then return to the upper room and spend the next ten days in prayer and preparation for the coming of the Spirit.
Although 40 days have passed, the season of Easter is not over. While the disciples are in the upper room praying, the lectionary brings us back to the upper room, pre-crucifixion, where we find Jesus praying among the disciples. We are still in John’s gospel, where there is no Lord’s Prayer, and Jesus doesn’t pray in the garden of Gethsemane. John’s Jesus never asks God to take the cup from him, and he never cries out “why have you forsaken me?” from the cross. This prayer occupies the fourth chapter between the Last Supper and the betrayal of Jesus -- chapters that have been filled with Christ’s final instructions to the disciples. This is as close as John will get to, “Lord, teach us to pray.”
Our second lesson for today gives us some lovely advice: “Cast your cares upon God because God cares for you.” I have mashed together a few translations to get this wording because it matches up better with the circularity and repetition of Jesus’ prayer. The word cast has associations with casting off in a boat, casting a lure, or being a castaway -- separation. We can separate from our prayers by giving them to God. Because God cares for us, God is willing to deal with our castoffs. In that sense, prayer is an unloading. When we pray for others, another opportunity arises. Instead of the giver-receiver relationship, this kind of prayer involves three entities: the one praying, the one being prayed for, and God. Sometimes we see the results of our prayers, but it usually takes time. There is only one truth about prayer that we can observe immediately: we know that it changes us as we grow closer to God and are bound more fully to one another.
In his prayer in the upper room, Jesus understands himself in relation to God, but also in relation to the disciples and those who will follow later. These are not three separate parts; they are all mixed together. We are joined in this in-between time by the communion of Saints, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the Body of Christ and all believers yet to come. This is eternal life: “that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” This is the understanding that we need as we approach Pentecost (which is another season of the church year that I don’t quite understand.
So what do we take from this today? We are clearly in a between time as we begin to emerge from shut-down orders, and the transition will be difficult. Somehow, a mixture of science, politics, economics, emotion, and maybe even common sense will be needed to move forward. It is not as simple as deciding what is “essential” and what isn’t because that line simply isn’t clear. As we discuss our rights, whether in light of the constitution or in the light of our faith, we need to remember that we are a part of something much larger than ourselves. Larger than our families, our communities, our states or our nation. We are a part of all of creation and of life eternal. As we move forward, let us do so prayerfully. AMEN
Easter 6, May 17, 2020
Just in case you are wondering, and I’m pretty sure you must be, the Revised Common Lectionary is a lectionary of readings or pericopes from the Bible for use in Christian worship, making provision for the liturgical year with its pattern of observances of festivals and seasons. It was preceded by the Common Lectionary, assembled in 1983, itself preceded by the COCU Lectionary, published in 1974 by the Consultation on Church Union (COCU). This lectionary was derived from various Protestant lectionaries in current use, which in turn were based on the 1969 Ordo Lectionum Missae, a three-year lectionary produced by the Roman Catholic Church following the reforms of the Second Vatican Council. That is just a really interesting way of saying that, like many pastors, I follow a three-year cycle of readings, usually including an Old Testament reading, a Psalm, an epistle and a Gospel reading. Occasionally the lectionary goes crazy and substitutes a reading from Acts as the first lesson. One advantage of using the lectionary is that the readings generally have some sort of theme running through them. Another is that many churches are studying the same scripture at the same time. The main disadvantage, in my opinion, is that the flow of the narrative of Jesus’ life is completely disrupted.
For example, we read John’s account of the Last Supper from John 13 over a month ago on Maundy Thursday. The next day, we took a huge bite of scripture as Jesus was betrayed, arrested, denied, tried, sentenced to death and crucified. Of course Easter Sunday brought us the story of the resurrection. The end of April brought us accounts of Jesus appearing to the disciples. Then, voila!May begins with a jump all the way back to before the raising of Lazarus which was, according to John, the last straw for those who feared Jesus -- the inciting incident for the crucifixion. Last week and this week feature the farewell discourse, which occurs between the Last Supper and the betrayal. If all of that wasn’t confusing enough, the lectionary dropped in on Matthew and Luke for one Sunday each for stories that don’t appear in John. If the lectionary was being presented on television, we would at least have subtitles like “the previous morning, two days later, or meanwhile back at the ranch.”
Does this matter? In the case of today’s reading, I believe that it matters very much. When Jesus talks about leaving and returning, it helps to know that he has not yet been crucified or resurrected. When Jesus tells the disciples that he will not leave them orphaned, it is important to remember that Judas has just left. Jesus has identified him as the one who will betray him and told him to “Do quickly what you are going to do.” Although John tells us that the disciples are confused by this, that passage ends, “So after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.” If that wasn’t enough, Jesus has just told Peter of his impending denial. Sandwiched between, Jesus gives them a new commandment: “love one another . Just as I have loved you, you should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” The fact that we heard those words on Maundy Thursday destroys any chance of our making the connection.
Context matters. Jesus is speaking to people who have had their worlds turned upside-down. They had followed Jesus to Bethany for the resurrection of Lazarus in spite of knowing that they would be in danger there. They had followed Jesus into Jerusalem and heard the threats made against him. Instead of reassuring them with a demonstration of his power, Jesus had just washed their feet. When they heard the words that we read today, the disciples were stunned; their companion, friend and teacher was trying to prepare them for something completely unfathomable.
Can we join them there? The closest I can come is my dad’s last Christmas. At Thanksgiving, he had been sick enough that he had to lay down and nap. In early February, he was gone. I don’t remember every detail, but I do clearly remember mom and dad sitting on the brown love seat that we had for most of my childhood. The story of the nativity was read. As we opened our gifts, dad had a few words for each of us. I don’t remember them being particularly profound, but the whole occasion had a sense of finality. I’m guessing that many of you can recall similar events. These are times that make impressions on us, but they are not times when we are particularly receptive to instruction. We can take big life lessons from them, but we aren’t likely to learn new concepts.
When we look at the farewell discourse and particularly today’s readings, we are looking for big life lessons. I love this paraphrase: “Don’t give up. Hang in there. Keep loving like I’ve been teaching you. Things will get messy, and loving will leave a mark. But I’m in this with you. Sometimes it won’t seem like we’re getting anywhere, but trust me, love wins.” The disciples need to hear that they are not being abandoned. They need something simple and specific to hold on to. That is exactly what Jesus gives them. For all of its flaws, the lectionary gives us this reading exactly when we need it as much as the disciples did. AMEN
Just in case you are wondering, and I’m pretty sure you must be, the Revised Common Lectionary is a lectionary of readings or pericopes from the Bible for use in Christian worship, making provision for the liturgical year with its pattern of observances of festivals and seasons. It was preceded by the Common Lectionary, assembled in 1983, itself preceded by the COCU Lectionary, published in 1974 by the Consultation on Church Union (COCU). This lectionary was derived from various Protestant lectionaries in current use, which in turn were based on the 1969 Ordo Lectionum Missae, a three-year lectionary produced by the Roman Catholic Church following the reforms of the Second Vatican Council. That is just a really interesting way of saying that, like many pastors, I follow a three-year cycle of readings, usually including an Old Testament reading, a Psalm, an epistle and a Gospel reading. Occasionally the lectionary goes crazy and substitutes a reading from Acts as the first lesson. One advantage of using the lectionary is that the readings generally have some sort of theme running through them. Another is that many churches are studying the same scripture at the same time. The main disadvantage, in my opinion, is that the flow of the narrative of Jesus’ life is completely disrupted.
For example, we read John’s account of the Last Supper from John 13 over a month ago on Maundy Thursday. The next day, we took a huge bite of scripture as Jesus was betrayed, arrested, denied, tried, sentenced to death and crucified. Of course Easter Sunday brought us the story of the resurrection. The end of April brought us accounts of Jesus appearing to the disciples. Then, voila!May begins with a jump all the way back to before the raising of Lazarus which was, according to John, the last straw for those who feared Jesus -- the inciting incident for the crucifixion. Last week and this week feature the farewell discourse, which occurs between the Last Supper and the betrayal. If all of that wasn’t confusing enough, the lectionary dropped in on Matthew and Luke for one Sunday each for stories that don’t appear in John. If the lectionary was being presented on television, we would at least have subtitles like “the previous morning, two days later, or meanwhile back at the ranch.”
Does this matter? In the case of today’s reading, I believe that it matters very much. When Jesus talks about leaving and returning, it helps to know that he has not yet been crucified or resurrected. When Jesus tells the disciples that he will not leave them orphaned, it is important to remember that Judas has just left. Jesus has identified him as the one who will betray him and told him to “Do quickly what you are going to do.” Although John tells us that the disciples are confused by this, that passage ends, “So after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.” If that wasn’t enough, Jesus has just told Peter of his impending denial. Sandwiched between, Jesus gives them a new commandment: “love one another . Just as I have loved you, you should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” The fact that we heard those words on Maundy Thursday destroys any chance of our making the connection.
Context matters. Jesus is speaking to people who have had their worlds turned upside-down. They had followed Jesus to Bethany for the resurrection of Lazarus in spite of knowing that they would be in danger there. They had followed Jesus into Jerusalem and heard the threats made against him. Instead of reassuring them with a demonstration of his power, Jesus had just washed their feet. When they heard the words that we read today, the disciples were stunned; their companion, friend and teacher was trying to prepare them for something completely unfathomable.
Can we join them there? The closest I can come is my dad’s last Christmas. At Thanksgiving, he had been sick enough that he had to lay down and nap. In early February, he was gone. I don’t remember every detail, but I do clearly remember mom and dad sitting on the brown love seat that we had for most of my childhood. The story of the nativity was read. As we opened our gifts, dad had a few words for each of us. I don’t remember them being particularly profound, but the whole occasion had a sense of finality. I’m guessing that many of you can recall similar events. These are times that make impressions on us, but they are not times when we are particularly receptive to instruction. We can take big life lessons from them, but we aren’t likely to learn new concepts.
When we look at the farewell discourse and particularly today’s readings, we are looking for big life lessons. I love this paraphrase: “Don’t give up. Hang in there. Keep loving like I’ve been teaching you. Things will get messy, and loving will leave a mark. But I’m in this with you. Sometimes it won’t seem like we’re getting anywhere, but trust me, love wins.” The disciples need to hear that they are not being abandoned. They need something simple and specific to hold on to. That is exactly what Jesus gives them. For all of its flaws, the lectionary gives us this reading exactly when we need it as much as the disciples did. AMEN
Fifth Sunday of Easter: May 10, 2020
A couple of years ago my wife and I took a mini tour of the sites of the Dakota conflict, including the remains of Fort Ridgely. There are still enough stones left to see the outlines of the various buildings, but many were taken away over the years and re-used by settlers to build homes, barns, and fences. This week’s texts are full of stones: The first reading recounts the stoning of Stephen, the Psalmist calls God his “rock of refuge,” Peter, whose name means “the rock,” talks about cornerstones, living stones, and a stone over which one may stumble. While the Gospel reading doesn’t have any rocks in it, it is one of the most commonly-used funeral texts, which, of course, reminds me both of gravestones and of a line from another funeral text, Ecclesiastes 3:5, “a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;” along with a line that couldn’t be more timely, “a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing”.
The theme songs running in my mind as I write? “On Christ, the solid rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand, and The building block (the building block) that was rejected became the cornerstone of a whole new world.” As you may have suspected, my head is full of rocks!
Having grown up on a farm in Stony Run township, my feelings about rocks are negative. However, thinking about them both as a building material and as a medium for art helps me to understand them as metaphors for God and Jesus. We think of cornerstones as important mainly because they have a date inscribed on them. In ancient times, the cornerstone was the first stone laid and the angles of the building depended on its squareness. The world may have rejected Jesus, but, because of him, our lives have purpose. Building with stone and without much mortar, the integrity of each stone is important. Time spent squaring up stones that were likely to split during the process was time wasted. With all of our flaws, it would be unlikely that we would be viewed as useful building materials.
That brings me to sculpture. I have always wondered how a sculptor went about selecting a stone. I found out that there are two methods of sculpting: in the direct method, the sculptor begins with the stone. I had a friend in college who was an artist. I asked him once how he carved an ear. He told me, “I just chip away everything that’s not an ear.” Michelangelo claimed that his job was to free the human form hidden inside the block. The first time that the image is seen is when it is completed.
In the indirect method, on the other hand, a model is made and then a suitable stone is found. The model is then copied in stone by measuring with calipers or a pointing machine. This is often done by an assistant and not the artist.
While it isn’t necessarily biblical, I find the image of the sculptor helpful. If we see ourselves as the stone and Jesus as the sculptor, we can envision him embracing our uniqueness and turning our imperfection into art. In the hands of Jesus, each of us has the potential to be a one-of-a-kind treasure. If we settle for less -- for being shaped by the forces of the world, by what others say or think of us -- we put ourselves in the hands of a sculptor using the indirect method, trying to make us into a socially acceptable shape regardless of our unique potential. Instead of a masterpiece, we can become, at best, an interesting craft piece -- a garden ornament. The Lord is our rock and refuge, and we are unhewn stone with the potential to be art. AMEN
A couple of years ago my wife and I took a mini tour of the sites of the Dakota conflict, including the remains of Fort Ridgely. There are still enough stones left to see the outlines of the various buildings, but many were taken away over the years and re-used by settlers to build homes, barns, and fences. This week’s texts are full of stones: The first reading recounts the stoning of Stephen, the Psalmist calls God his “rock of refuge,” Peter, whose name means “the rock,” talks about cornerstones, living stones, and a stone over which one may stumble. While the Gospel reading doesn’t have any rocks in it, it is one of the most commonly-used funeral texts, which, of course, reminds me both of gravestones and of a line from another funeral text, Ecclesiastes 3:5, “a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;” along with a line that couldn’t be more timely, “a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing”.
The theme songs running in my mind as I write? “On Christ, the solid rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand, and The building block (the building block) that was rejected became the cornerstone of a whole new world.” As you may have suspected, my head is full of rocks!
Having grown up on a farm in Stony Run township, my feelings about rocks are negative. However, thinking about them both as a building material and as a medium for art helps me to understand them as metaphors for God and Jesus. We think of cornerstones as important mainly because they have a date inscribed on them. In ancient times, the cornerstone was the first stone laid and the angles of the building depended on its squareness. The world may have rejected Jesus, but, because of him, our lives have purpose. Building with stone and without much mortar, the integrity of each stone is important. Time spent squaring up stones that were likely to split during the process was time wasted. With all of our flaws, it would be unlikely that we would be viewed as useful building materials.
That brings me to sculpture. I have always wondered how a sculptor went about selecting a stone. I found out that there are two methods of sculpting: in the direct method, the sculptor begins with the stone. I had a friend in college who was an artist. I asked him once how he carved an ear. He told me, “I just chip away everything that’s not an ear.” Michelangelo claimed that his job was to free the human form hidden inside the block. The first time that the image is seen is when it is completed.
In the indirect method, on the other hand, a model is made and then a suitable stone is found. The model is then copied in stone by measuring with calipers or a pointing machine. This is often done by an assistant and not the artist.
While it isn’t necessarily biblical, I find the image of the sculptor helpful. If we see ourselves as the stone and Jesus as the sculptor, we can envision him embracing our uniqueness and turning our imperfection into art. In the hands of Jesus, each of us has the potential to be a one-of-a-kind treasure. If we settle for less -- for being shaped by the forces of the world, by what others say or think of us -- we put ourselves in the hands of a sculptor using the indirect method, trying to make us into a socially acceptable shape regardless of our unique potential. Instead of a masterpiece, we can become, at best, an interesting craft piece -- a garden ornament. The Lord is our rock and refuge, and we are unhewn stone with the potential to be art. AMEN
Good Shepherd Sunday, May 3, 2020
It is Good Shepherd Sunday today, so, of course I am going to talk about… gates. Now you might be saying to yourself, “Self, what on earth is there to say about gates?”, and I don’t blame you a bit. The metaphor of the sheep and the shepherd exemplified by the 23rd Psalm is rich and beautiful, and it is, as I already mentioned, Good Shepherd Sunday. I hope that you will bear with me long enough to understand my choice. As I’ve gotten older, my appreciation for gates has grown. Because we have always had a variety of livestock, we have always had many pens. During lambing time, we need pens for the ewes to bond with their lambs, pens for small “family” groups of sheep, a pen for the ewes that haven’t lambed yet, and a pen for the rams. At the peak of lambing, there were at least 12 different pens in the shed. When I was younger, I seldom bothered to put gates in the pens. I could always take a panel down to let sheep in or out, and I would just climb over the fence to feed and water. Like I said, I have begun to appreciate gates as I have gotten older and it has become more difficult to manhandle the panels and to climb over the gates. Instead of something extra, they have become essential.
I can hear you saying, “Fine, the man likes gates. What does that have to do with anything? Is he planning to make a point, or is he just going to type until he fills the page?” Again, I don’t blame you. My wife and kids can tell you that I find everything to do with raising sheep endlessly fascinating, and that I can tell you which panels and gates I used to build a pen in a specific part of the building, but I do have a good reason for talking about gates today. The Gospel reading begins with gates.
The lectionary jumps around so much that it is difficult to keep track of where the weekly Gospel readings fit within the narrative. Today’s reading follows the story of the healing of the man born blind that was read way back on March 22nd. As you may remember, that story begins with the disciples asking, “who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?” Jesus replies, “he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” The incident concludes with Jesus telling the Pharisees “If you were blind, you would not have sin,but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.” The first section of today’s Gospel is a continuation of Jesus’ conversation with the Pharisees, which is meant also to educate the disciples and others who are listening.
So, now that we are on page two, it is time to actually talk about the gate.The first function of the gate is that it is the way that honest people enter the sheepfold. If you don’t use the gate, you are a thief or a bandit. Interestingly, there is also a gatekeeper involved. That says to me that Jesus’ role in judgement at this point is not an active one. It is his presence that makes it possible to distinguish true leaders from false leaders, right from wrong. Verses 7-10 add another role for the gate: “Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.” This abundant life is not on another plane or even at the end of a long hallway -- it is right on the other side of the gate. Even better, it isn’t a one-time exit; the sheep come and go. On one side of the gate is lush pasture, on the other is protection from those who would kill and destroy.
Best of all, the gate doesn’t exist to separate sheep from other sheep, but to lead sheep in and out of the sheepfold so they will be protected and fed. Jesus told us that he came not to judge but to save. Later in this passage, he says “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” Remember this: Jesus is the shepherd and the gate. He is the one who has laid down his life for his sheep. We are merely the sheep. Our role is to hear his voice and follow him. AMEN
It is Good Shepherd Sunday today, so, of course I am going to talk about… gates. Now you might be saying to yourself, “Self, what on earth is there to say about gates?”, and I don’t blame you a bit. The metaphor of the sheep and the shepherd exemplified by the 23rd Psalm is rich and beautiful, and it is, as I already mentioned, Good Shepherd Sunday. I hope that you will bear with me long enough to understand my choice. As I’ve gotten older, my appreciation for gates has grown. Because we have always had a variety of livestock, we have always had many pens. During lambing time, we need pens for the ewes to bond with their lambs, pens for small “family” groups of sheep, a pen for the ewes that haven’t lambed yet, and a pen for the rams. At the peak of lambing, there were at least 12 different pens in the shed. When I was younger, I seldom bothered to put gates in the pens. I could always take a panel down to let sheep in or out, and I would just climb over the fence to feed and water. Like I said, I have begun to appreciate gates as I have gotten older and it has become more difficult to manhandle the panels and to climb over the gates. Instead of something extra, they have become essential.
I can hear you saying, “Fine, the man likes gates. What does that have to do with anything? Is he planning to make a point, or is he just going to type until he fills the page?” Again, I don’t blame you. My wife and kids can tell you that I find everything to do with raising sheep endlessly fascinating, and that I can tell you which panels and gates I used to build a pen in a specific part of the building, but I do have a good reason for talking about gates today. The Gospel reading begins with gates.
The lectionary jumps around so much that it is difficult to keep track of where the weekly Gospel readings fit within the narrative. Today’s reading follows the story of the healing of the man born blind that was read way back on March 22nd. As you may remember, that story begins with the disciples asking, “who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?” Jesus replies, “he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” The incident concludes with Jesus telling the Pharisees “If you were blind, you would not have sin,but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.” The first section of today’s Gospel is a continuation of Jesus’ conversation with the Pharisees, which is meant also to educate the disciples and others who are listening.
So, now that we are on page two, it is time to actually talk about the gate.The first function of the gate is that it is the way that honest people enter the sheepfold. If you don’t use the gate, you are a thief or a bandit. Interestingly, there is also a gatekeeper involved. That says to me that Jesus’ role in judgement at this point is not an active one. It is his presence that makes it possible to distinguish true leaders from false leaders, right from wrong. Verses 7-10 add another role for the gate: “Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.” This abundant life is not on another plane or even at the end of a long hallway -- it is right on the other side of the gate. Even better, it isn’t a one-time exit; the sheep come and go. On one side of the gate is lush pasture, on the other is protection from those who would kill and destroy.
Best of all, the gate doesn’t exist to separate sheep from other sheep, but to lead sheep in and out of the sheepfold so they will be protected and fed. Jesus told us that he came not to judge but to save. Later in this passage, he says “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” Remember this: Jesus is the shepherd and the gate. He is the one who has laid down his life for his sheep. We are merely the sheep. Our role is to hear his voice and follow him. AMEN
Sunday, April 26, 2020 Third Sunday of Easter
“We had hoped…” How many conversations have begun with these words? We had hoped that the tests would come back negative, we had hoped that the surgery would be successful, we had hoped that treatment would work this time, we had hoped that having a child would bring us closer together, we had hoped that we could get a good crop and fair prices in the same year, we had hoped that the economy would turn around, we had hoped that we could all be together before mom passed away… “We had hoped.” We could paint those words on the side of every sagging barn and empty church in the countryside -- post it on every abandoned building site and country graveyard. Make some signs, Wegdahl… we had hoped, Asbury...we had hoped, Hazel Run… we had hoped… We live in the same world that the two disciples ( neither of whom made the cut to be included in the twelve, one of whom is never mentioned again and the other who is unnamed-- we had hoped…) on the road to Emaus (another tiny town that has been lost to history -- we had hoped…) on the afternoon of Easter, the third day after the crucifixion, the day on which Jesus was supposed to have risen -- we had hoped…
They are experiencing what we might see as the downside of hope, disappointment, or, more cynically, reality. As they walk, they are deep in discussion about what went wrong and what should happen next. Perhaps their discussion has slowed them down, because Jesus overtakes them. They don’t recognize him, but I don’t think that it is because he is unrecognizable. I believe that they don’t see him because they aren’t looking for him. Mary Magdalene recognized Jesus when he said her name, the disciples in the upper room have seen Jesus there before; Jesus is out of context on the road. When he asks what they are discussing, they stop, look sad, and say, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?" Keep in mind that hundreds of thousands of people have been in Jerusalem for the Passover and that crucifixions were not uncommon. Like us, these disciples assume that what is most important to them is the main event in everyone’s life. They tell Jesus that they have heard from eyewitnesses that the tomb is empty, but that they have left anyway.
It feels like Jesus has had enough of this foolishness; “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” Even so, the truth has yet to dawn on them. Finally, they have reached their destination. Maybe they are at the edge of understanding, because they ask Jesus to stay. When Jesus breaks the bread, these minor-league disciples discover what we have known all along: “their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.” We might even get a chuckle out of their immediate revisionist history. When they have raced back to report their encounter, they are upstaged by the news that Jesus has already appeared to Peter (who is kind of a big deal).
It is easy to let familiar stories like this one roll right over us like the disciples let Jesus’ words roll over them before they realized who he was. It is difficult to escape the mindset of “we had hoped.” We spend much of our time walking away from Jesus, reassuring ourselves and each other that we have things figured out, making plans to avoid getting hurt again. We seek the moments when our hearts burn within us and wonder why we don’t experience more of them. I am tempted to end by saying that we should change our cry from “we had hoped” to “we have hope,” but that just seems too trite and convenient. Instead, I ask you to continue wrestling with the fact that our hopes don’t always line up with God’s plan. AMEN
“We had hoped…” How many conversations have begun with these words? We had hoped that the tests would come back negative, we had hoped that the surgery would be successful, we had hoped that treatment would work this time, we had hoped that having a child would bring us closer together, we had hoped that we could get a good crop and fair prices in the same year, we had hoped that the economy would turn around, we had hoped that we could all be together before mom passed away… “We had hoped.” We could paint those words on the side of every sagging barn and empty church in the countryside -- post it on every abandoned building site and country graveyard. Make some signs, Wegdahl… we had hoped, Asbury...we had hoped, Hazel Run… we had hoped… We live in the same world that the two disciples ( neither of whom made the cut to be included in the twelve, one of whom is never mentioned again and the other who is unnamed-- we had hoped…) on the road to Emaus (another tiny town that has been lost to history -- we had hoped…) on the afternoon of Easter, the third day after the crucifixion, the day on which Jesus was supposed to have risen -- we had hoped…
They are experiencing what we might see as the downside of hope, disappointment, or, more cynically, reality. As they walk, they are deep in discussion about what went wrong and what should happen next. Perhaps their discussion has slowed them down, because Jesus overtakes them. They don’t recognize him, but I don’t think that it is because he is unrecognizable. I believe that they don’t see him because they aren’t looking for him. Mary Magdalene recognized Jesus when he said her name, the disciples in the upper room have seen Jesus there before; Jesus is out of context on the road. When he asks what they are discussing, they stop, look sad, and say, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?" Keep in mind that hundreds of thousands of people have been in Jerusalem for the Passover and that crucifixions were not uncommon. Like us, these disciples assume that what is most important to them is the main event in everyone’s life. They tell Jesus that they have heard from eyewitnesses that the tomb is empty, but that they have left anyway.
It feels like Jesus has had enough of this foolishness; “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” Even so, the truth has yet to dawn on them. Finally, they have reached their destination. Maybe they are at the edge of understanding, because they ask Jesus to stay. When Jesus breaks the bread, these minor-league disciples discover what we have known all along: “their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.” We might even get a chuckle out of their immediate revisionist history. When they have raced back to report their encounter, they are upstaged by the news that Jesus has already appeared to Peter (who is kind of a big deal).
It is easy to let familiar stories like this one roll right over us like the disciples let Jesus’ words roll over them before they realized who he was. It is difficult to escape the mindset of “we had hoped.” We spend much of our time walking away from Jesus, reassuring ourselves and each other that we have things figured out, making plans to avoid getting hurt again. We seek the moments when our hearts burn within us and wonder why we don’t experience more of them. I am tempted to end by saying that we should change our cry from “we had hoped” to “we have hope,” but that just seems too trite and convenient. Instead, I ask you to continue wrestling with the fact that our hopes don’t always line up with God’s plan. AMEN
Second Sunday of Easter, April 19, 2020
The idea of hiding behind locked doors in fear resonates in a new way today. Jesus first appears on the evening of Easter. Two of the disciples have seen the empty tomb and returned; Mary Magdalene has seen and spoken to Jesus and returned to tell them about it. We are not sure exactly who is there -- the term “disciples” is used to describe more than just the twelve. It is likely that the women who have been a part of Jesus’ ministry are there. All that we know for sure is that Thomas is absent. The brutal murder of their teacher, friend, and relative is fresh in their minds. They must be torn between feelings of guilt that they didn’t either do more to save Jesus or die trying and relief that no one has come for them yet. They are still formulating the story that they will tell themselves about their time with Jesus -- was it a disappointing waste of time, a brief encounter with glory in otherwise normal lives, an exciting adventure? Are they heroes or cowards? On top of that, they have been told that the tomb is empty and that Jesus lives. Is this a relief or cause for greater fear? The cry throughout John has been, “Come and see,” do they want to see Jesus?
Then Jesus appears among them and says, “Shalom, may God give you every good thing.” Fear and locked doors are no match for God’s peace. They are forgiven. In fact, there is no sign that they were ever out of Jesus’ good graces. He shows them his wounds. He was different. He could now appear inside a locked room. But he was also the same Jesus. His friends recognized him by sight. Again, he says ,"Peace be with you.” adding, “ As the Father has sent me, so I send you." Jesus hasn’t come to visit them or to reassure them -- he has come to send them. Think about the implications as the disciples see the wounds. They are sent just as Jesus was sent. Shalom doesn’t mean the absence of struggle and pain. We know that in our own lives. But it does mean the presence of love in our wounded lives. The presence -- not the absence of anything -- but presence of love in our fear-riddled lives. Then he breathes on them. As God breathed life into the first humans, as the spirit reanimated the dry bones in the valley, the disciples are given new life in Christ.
Even so, a week later, they are back in the house with the doors closed. I imagine that their response during the week had been something like our response to the current situation. Some may have stayed in the house, using a mixture of common sense and fear as a reason to avoid going out in public. Some were likely angry about the very idea of submitting to their fear by staying inside. Others probably accepted their commission immediately and began spreading the Word. Did someone need to go out for groceries? Did anyone need a replacement for a broken sandal-thong? Did anyone need their hair cut or their beard trimmed. The fact remains that they have yet to fully engage in their mission.
And the stakes absolutely couldn’t be higher. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." As John the Baptist put it, Jesus was the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” This mission of Jesus’ is now the mission of His followers. If we refuse the mission, how will others know that their sins are forgiven? How can they take advantage of new life in Christ if no one invites them? The church began when believers began inviting others to share in the Peace of Christ, by introducing them to Jesus. Our mission has not changed. AMEN
The idea of hiding behind locked doors in fear resonates in a new way today. Jesus first appears on the evening of Easter. Two of the disciples have seen the empty tomb and returned; Mary Magdalene has seen and spoken to Jesus and returned to tell them about it. We are not sure exactly who is there -- the term “disciples” is used to describe more than just the twelve. It is likely that the women who have been a part of Jesus’ ministry are there. All that we know for sure is that Thomas is absent. The brutal murder of their teacher, friend, and relative is fresh in their minds. They must be torn between feelings of guilt that they didn’t either do more to save Jesus or die trying and relief that no one has come for them yet. They are still formulating the story that they will tell themselves about their time with Jesus -- was it a disappointing waste of time, a brief encounter with glory in otherwise normal lives, an exciting adventure? Are they heroes or cowards? On top of that, they have been told that the tomb is empty and that Jesus lives. Is this a relief or cause for greater fear? The cry throughout John has been, “Come and see,” do they want to see Jesus?
Then Jesus appears among them and says, “Shalom, may God give you every good thing.” Fear and locked doors are no match for God’s peace. They are forgiven. In fact, there is no sign that they were ever out of Jesus’ good graces. He shows them his wounds. He was different. He could now appear inside a locked room. But he was also the same Jesus. His friends recognized him by sight. Again, he says ,"Peace be with you.” adding, “ As the Father has sent me, so I send you." Jesus hasn’t come to visit them or to reassure them -- he has come to send them. Think about the implications as the disciples see the wounds. They are sent just as Jesus was sent. Shalom doesn’t mean the absence of struggle and pain. We know that in our own lives. But it does mean the presence of love in our wounded lives. The presence -- not the absence of anything -- but presence of love in our fear-riddled lives. Then he breathes on them. As God breathed life into the first humans, as the spirit reanimated the dry bones in the valley, the disciples are given new life in Christ.
Even so, a week later, they are back in the house with the doors closed. I imagine that their response during the week had been something like our response to the current situation. Some may have stayed in the house, using a mixture of common sense and fear as a reason to avoid going out in public. Some were likely angry about the very idea of submitting to their fear by staying inside. Others probably accepted their commission immediately and began spreading the Word. Did someone need to go out for groceries? Did anyone need a replacement for a broken sandal-thong? Did anyone need their hair cut or their beard trimmed. The fact remains that they have yet to fully engage in their mission.
And the stakes absolutely couldn’t be higher. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." As John the Baptist put it, Jesus was the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” This mission of Jesus’ is now the mission of His followers. If we refuse the mission, how will others know that their sins are forgiven? How can they take advantage of new life in Christ if no one invites them? The church began when believers began inviting others to share in the Peace of Christ, by introducing them to Jesus. Our mission has not changed. AMEN
Easter Sunday, 2020
A blessed Easter to you. What memories does today bring you? I remember getting up before the sunrise service to see what was in our Easter baskets. I remember going to Hazel Run Lutheran, where Terry and Tommy Vold were in the balcony ready to play “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” on their horns. The first time I was in the pulpit was as a Luther Leaguer at the sunrise service. Of course, there are memories of new church clothes, egg bakes and muffins. When our kids were little, my mother-in-law,Ruth, would put on giant Easter egg hunts at the lake. In every memory there is a giant ham in the oven and grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles.
Then there’s today. Synod minister Steven Cook recently referred to Covid 19 and the resulting upheaval as an apocalypse. At first I thought, that is an overstatement -- the apocalypse is the end of the world -- a time of natural disasters and judgement. But that is a capital-A Apocalypse, THE Apocalypse. Apocalypse is defined as a very serious event resulting in great destruction and change. I believe that it is fair to say not only that we are living in an apocalypse, but that what happened on the first Easter was also apocalyptic. In Matthew’s account of the crucifixion, the curtain of the temple is torn in two, the earth shakes, rocks split, the tombs are opened, and many bodies of the saints are raised and enter the city, where they appear to many. On Easter morning, “suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men.”
The earth shakes and an angel appears like a bolt of lightning only to say, “Do not be afraid,” a line that must come straight from the angel handbook. Don’t be afraid? One of these women is Jesus’ mother. She has watched as her son has been whipped, beaten, spit on and murdered. She watched as he was put in the tomb that is now empty. Don’t be afraid? It isn’t a command, but an attempt to reassure; there is nothing to fear, everything is going to be ok. The women don’t lose their fear entirely, but it is joined by great joy.
As we celebrate Easter today, are we afraid? If so, does that fear mean that we don’t have enough confidence in God? Psalm 23 says Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil….
Reverend Tony Spell, A Louisiana pentecostal pastor who is refusing to abide by the state's stay-at-home order,. recently said “‘true Christians’ see death as a ‘welcome friend.’Like any zealot or like any pure religious person, death looks to them like a welcome friend. True Christians do not mind dying. They fear living in fear.” I pray that his definition of Christianity is wrong, because I am afraid. I am afraid of losing a loved one. I am afraid that my grandchildren may not have access to the quality of life that I want for them. I am afraid for our democracy.
Although I am afraid, I believe that Jesus came not to condemn the world, but to save it. I believe that God will never abandon me or any of His creation. The current apocalypse is not God’s judgement. It is an opportunity for us to draw closer to God. The first thing that the risen Christ did was to send the message that the disciples would see him again in Galilee. They are still his brothers -- still invited to live in his love. Even in our times of fear and doubt, Jesus extends the same invitation to us. Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Alleluia! AMEN
A blessed Easter to you. What memories does today bring you? I remember getting up before the sunrise service to see what was in our Easter baskets. I remember going to Hazel Run Lutheran, where Terry and Tommy Vold were in the balcony ready to play “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” on their horns. The first time I was in the pulpit was as a Luther Leaguer at the sunrise service. Of course, there are memories of new church clothes, egg bakes and muffins. When our kids were little, my mother-in-law,Ruth, would put on giant Easter egg hunts at the lake. In every memory there is a giant ham in the oven and grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles.
Then there’s today. Synod minister Steven Cook recently referred to Covid 19 and the resulting upheaval as an apocalypse. At first I thought, that is an overstatement -- the apocalypse is the end of the world -- a time of natural disasters and judgement. But that is a capital-A Apocalypse, THE Apocalypse. Apocalypse is defined as a very serious event resulting in great destruction and change. I believe that it is fair to say not only that we are living in an apocalypse, but that what happened on the first Easter was also apocalyptic. In Matthew’s account of the crucifixion, the curtain of the temple is torn in two, the earth shakes, rocks split, the tombs are opened, and many bodies of the saints are raised and enter the city, where they appear to many. On Easter morning, “suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men.”
The earth shakes and an angel appears like a bolt of lightning only to say, “Do not be afraid,” a line that must come straight from the angel handbook. Don’t be afraid? One of these women is Jesus’ mother. She has watched as her son has been whipped, beaten, spit on and murdered. She watched as he was put in the tomb that is now empty. Don’t be afraid? It isn’t a command, but an attempt to reassure; there is nothing to fear, everything is going to be ok. The women don’t lose their fear entirely, but it is joined by great joy.
As we celebrate Easter today, are we afraid? If so, does that fear mean that we don’t have enough confidence in God? Psalm 23 says Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil….
Reverend Tony Spell, A Louisiana pentecostal pastor who is refusing to abide by the state's stay-at-home order,. recently said “‘true Christians’ see death as a ‘welcome friend.’Like any zealot or like any pure religious person, death looks to them like a welcome friend. True Christians do not mind dying. They fear living in fear.” I pray that his definition of Christianity is wrong, because I am afraid. I am afraid of losing a loved one. I am afraid that my grandchildren may not have access to the quality of life that I want for them. I am afraid for our democracy.
Although I am afraid, I believe that Jesus came not to condemn the world, but to save it. I believe that God will never abandon me or any of His creation. The current apocalypse is not God’s judgement. It is an opportunity for us to draw closer to God. The first thing that the risen Christ did was to send the message that the disciples would see him again in Galilee. They are still his brothers -- still invited to live in his love. Even in our times of fear and doubt, Jesus extends the same invitation to us. Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Alleluia! AMEN
Holy Week: Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Imagine what communion Sunday would be like if John was our only Gospel. Is it possible that we would get our feet washed as a part of the sacrament? I don’t know about you, but the sharing of the peace is more than enough physical contact for me! Instead of bread and wine at the rail, we would likely gather around the baptismal font, which the pastor would fill while reciting a version of words of institution drawn from Jesus’ words in tonight’s Gospel,perhaps “during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. As each pair of feet is washed, the pastor would say, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean.” The post-foot-washing blessing? “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." Other than the foot washing, it makes a lovely bit of liturgy, don’t you think?
In his usual way, John shows us Jesus in action, followed by questions and explanation. Although Jesus “farewell discourse” in John goes on for four more chapters before he and the disciples leave for the garden, this is Jesus’ final “teachable moment” with the disciples. The fact that he washes their feet doesn’t seem too surprising to us; after all, we have heard it before, and countless sermons and Sunday school lessons have drilled the idea of Jesus as servant into our heads. Peter’s reaction shows us that it was surprising to the disciples, and rightfully so. As a general rule, we are much more comfortable helping people than being helped, and letting someone wash our feet would put us in an awkward and vulnerable position. It is one thing for a parent to wash a child’s feet or for a caregiver to wash the feet of one who cannot do it on their own; it is quite another to accept help that you don’t need or that you don’t think that you need. But Jesus insists, going so far as to tell Peter, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me."
And that is the point -- isn’t it? We are simply incapable of staying clean. Jesus says, “If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” What a loaded sentence! IF we have learned what Jesus taught. That is unlikely to happen on the first pass, and it goes WAY beyond being able to quote scripture. As we continue to learn, we are blessed, IF we do them. Think about the folks whose feet Jesus washed: Judas departed to betray Jesus before the meal was even over, Peter would deny Jesus three times before dawn, and all of them would soon abandon Jesus. Satan has entered the room. Even so, Jesus patiently continues teaching, asking, “Do you know what I have done to you?”
As we file back to our seats after receiving the sacrament of foot washing, that is the question that we must ask ourselves. Do we know what Christ has done to us? Not for us, but to us. Once we can answer that question (and the answer will not be perfect -- it may not even be correct), we can act as the disciples we were made to be, loving our neighbors as Jesus loves us. We live in a world filled with dirty feet, ours included. To paraphrase an old song, we just need to put our feet in the hand of the man who stilled the waters. AMEN
Imagine what communion Sunday would be like if John was our only Gospel. Is it possible that we would get our feet washed as a part of the sacrament? I don’t know about you, but the sharing of the peace is more than enough physical contact for me! Instead of bread and wine at the rail, we would likely gather around the baptismal font, which the pastor would fill while reciting a version of words of institution drawn from Jesus’ words in tonight’s Gospel,perhaps “during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. As each pair of feet is washed, the pastor would say, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean.” The post-foot-washing blessing? “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." Other than the foot washing, it makes a lovely bit of liturgy, don’t you think?
In his usual way, John shows us Jesus in action, followed by questions and explanation. Although Jesus “farewell discourse” in John goes on for four more chapters before he and the disciples leave for the garden, this is Jesus’ final “teachable moment” with the disciples. The fact that he washes their feet doesn’t seem too surprising to us; after all, we have heard it before, and countless sermons and Sunday school lessons have drilled the idea of Jesus as servant into our heads. Peter’s reaction shows us that it was surprising to the disciples, and rightfully so. As a general rule, we are much more comfortable helping people than being helped, and letting someone wash our feet would put us in an awkward and vulnerable position. It is one thing for a parent to wash a child’s feet or for a caregiver to wash the feet of one who cannot do it on their own; it is quite another to accept help that you don’t need or that you don’t think that you need. But Jesus insists, going so far as to tell Peter, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me."
And that is the point -- isn’t it? We are simply incapable of staying clean. Jesus says, “If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” What a loaded sentence! IF we have learned what Jesus taught. That is unlikely to happen on the first pass, and it goes WAY beyond being able to quote scripture. As we continue to learn, we are blessed, IF we do them. Think about the folks whose feet Jesus washed: Judas departed to betray Jesus before the meal was even over, Peter would deny Jesus three times before dawn, and all of them would soon abandon Jesus. Satan has entered the room. Even so, Jesus patiently continues teaching, asking, “Do you know what I have done to you?”
As we file back to our seats after receiving the sacrament of foot washing, that is the question that we must ask ourselves. Do we know what Christ has done to us? Not for us, but to us. Once we can answer that question (and the answer will not be perfect -- it may not even be correct), we can act as the disciples we were made to be, loving our neighbors as Jesus loves us. We live in a world filled with dirty feet, ours included. To paraphrase an old song, we just need to put our feet in the hand of the man who stilled the waters. AMEN
God speaks to us today at the intersection of history and scripture. Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones took place when the people of Israel were in Babylonian captivity. God had previously told Ezekiel that he was bringing a sword upon Israel and would scatter their bones. The scene suggests the aftermath of a huge battle. What do you imagine when you think of the valley of dry bones? One of the first images that comes to my mind is the image of a man standing on top of a mountain of buffalo skulls. I can imagine the pain that the Native Americans felt at the indiscriminate slaughter of the animal that not only provided them with most of what they needed to live, but also symbolized their spirit. They must have known that what was happening to the buffalo would soon happen to them.
I am also reminded of photographs of the airplane hangar full of shoes near the Auschwitz concentration camp. In a way, these empty shoes speak of the horror of genocide even more strongly than pictures of the victims themselves.
Pairing the vision of the valley of the dry bones with the story of Lazarus provides even more graphic images. Lazarus has been dead long enough so that there is a stench.
Hearing these texts today calls to mind other images of death and decay. Abandoned building sites and collapsing barns remind us that our traditional, rural way of life is much more alive in our imagination than in reality. The building that houses our church office was once a thriving bank. In a month, it will be closed. Main streets are a shadow of their former selves.
The current situation makes things appear even more bleak. Empty churches and empty schools are dead places. Where do you see the dry bones? Can these bones live again? Our churches and our communities have been drying up for a long time. Many of our businesses were barely getting by before the coronavirus shut them down or limited them. People who live here haven’t been able to put anything aside for a rainy day before, and now it is pouring. Can these bones live again?
Mary and Martha show us how to hope. When they say, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”, it is not an accusation, but a simple statement of faith. They know that Jesus has the power to heal. When he tells them, “Your brother will rise again.", they do not doubt that Lazarus will rise again on the last day. Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” He asks, “Do you believe this?” Martha says yes, but that is not the key to what is about to happen. Jesus weeps with the sisters and the mourners. He is not above their pain. He does not judge them for their lack of understanding. In fact, he had told the disciples, "Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him."
God does not cause suffering, but God is often revealed in times of suffering. Our churches and communities are unlikely to be knit together and covered with the flesh of their past prosperity, but we can be assured that they will live again because they are reflections of us. Rather than longing for the past, we need to open our imaginations to the possibilities of a faithful God. AMEN
I am also reminded of photographs of the airplane hangar full of shoes near the Auschwitz concentration camp. In a way, these empty shoes speak of the horror of genocide even more strongly than pictures of the victims themselves.
Pairing the vision of the valley of the dry bones with the story of Lazarus provides even more graphic images. Lazarus has been dead long enough so that there is a stench.
Hearing these texts today calls to mind other images of death and decay. Abandoned building sites and collapsing barns remind us that our traditional, rural way of life is much more alive in our imagination than in reality. The building that houses our church office was once a thriving bank. In a month, it will be closed. Main streets are a shadow of their former selves.
The current situation makes things appear even more bleak. Empty churches and empty schools are dead places. Where do you see the dry bones? Can these bones live again? Our churches and our communities have been drying up for a long time. Many of our businesses were barely getting by before the coronavirus shut them down or limited them. People who live here haven’t been able to put anything aside for a rainy day before, and now it is pouring. Can these bones live again?
Mary and Martha show us how to hope. When they say, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”, it is not an accusation, but a simple statement of faith. They know that Jesus has the power to heal. When he tells them, “Your brother will rise again.", they do not doubt that Lazarus will rise again on the last day. Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” He asks, “Do you believe this?” Martha says yes, but that is not the key to what is about to happen. Jesus weeps with the sisters and the mourners. He is not above their pain. He does not judge them for their lack of understanding. In fact, he had told the disciples, "Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him."
God does not cause suffering, but God is often revealed in times of suffering. Our churches and communities are unlikely to be knit together and covered with the flesh of their past prosperity, but we can be assured that they will live again because they are reflections of us. Rather than longing for the past, we need to open our imaginations to the possibilities of a faithful God. AMEN
John reveals the purpose of his Gospel in chapter 20, verses 30-31: “In his disciples’ presence Jesus performed many other miracles which are not written down in this book. But these have been written in order that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through your faith in him you may have life.” Two weeks ago we read the story of Nicodemus and his nighttime encounter with Jesus. Last week we heard the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. Today we have Jesus healing a man who has been blind from birth. John concludes his gospel, “Now, there are many other things that Jesus did.If they were all written down one by one, I suppose that the whole world could not hold the books that would be written.” (John 21:25) John has intentionally chosen the incidents that he shares from among the countless deeds of Jesus because he feels that they are particularly strong evidence that Jesus is the Messiah. Nicodemus is much more than an example of a religious scholar who is unable to let go of his station in life in order to be born again. The Samaritan woman is not simply an illustration that even the greatest of sinners and outcasts are free to drink deeply from the living water that is Jesus. The man born blind should not be reduced to a metaphor where physical blindness is compared to spiritual blindness.
Where, then, should we begin? I believe that we must first acknowledge that each of us is Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, the man born blind, and the Pharisees. John isn’t telling stories so that we can see what Jesus did, but to show us who he was so that we might believe. It is interesting to note that John 8 ends with Jesus being chased out of the temple by people who have picked up stones to throw at him. Even so, he notices a blind beggar. The disciples see him too, but they see him differently. They want to know, "who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" This question resonates today as social media fills up with posts about the coronavirus, many of which attempt to put the virus in perspective or to make sense of it through scripture. One of the more popular posts shares 2 Chronicles 7:13-14, “At times I might shut up the heavens so that no rain falls, or command grasshoppers to devour your crops, or send plagues among you. Then if my people who are called by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and restore their land.” which is part of a conversation between Solomon and God after the building of the temple. Using it as a way of making sense of the current situation clearly implies that we are being punished for our sins and that we will only be restored when we repent. Jesus clearly refutes this argument in today’s gospel. The man’s blindness is one of countless opportunities for Jesus to reveal God’s works.
In the aftermath, everyone is full of questions: Is this the same man? If he was healed, how was it done? How can one who claims to be from God break God’s commandments by healing on the Sabbath? The only one who doesn’t have questions, oddly enough, is the man who was healed. He doesn’t ask how a merciful God could have let him be born blind or why Jesus chose to heal him now. For the most part, all of his responses consist of slightly different versions of “All I know is, I was blind, and now I see.” Everyone else is caught up in trying to either deny the miracle or to make it fit their own understanding. Instead of believing what they see, they see what they believe. For them, the more clear the revelation is perceived, the more division it causes.
The newly - sighted man, on the other hand, comes to a series of understandings about Jesus. He is not immediately “born again” in the sense that he can only recite the details of the healing without being able to interpret them. At the end of his first conversation with the Pharisees, he, like the Samaritan woman, concludes that he is a prophet. This isn’t a full understanding, but he is on his way. During his second conversation with the Pharisees, he figures out that Jesus comes from God and is not a “sinner”. Finally, after he is driven out, just as Jesus had been, and Jesus comes and finds him, telling him explicitly that he is the Son of Man, the healed man believes. In spite of the fact that he has been healed by Jesus, the man doesn’t have an instant epiphany. Like Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman and the people of her village, and the disciples themselves, belief is a process for this man -- a process that may well need to be repeated.
Each story that John tells reminds us of the truth of John 3:17, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” The light of God shines on all people regardless of their sinfulness. They may choose darkness over the light, but God will neither deny them the light nor force them into it. AMEN
Where, then, should we begin? I believe that we must first acknowledge that each of us is Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, the man born blind, and the Pharisees. John isn’t telling stories so that we can see what Jesus did, but to show us who he was so that we might believe. It is interesting to note that John 8 ends with Jesus being chased out of the temple by people who have picked up stones to throw at him. Even so, he notices a blind beggar. The disciples see him too, but they see him differently. They want to know, "who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" This question resonates today as social media fills up with posts about the coronavirus, many of which attempt to put the virus in perspective or to make sense of it through scripture. One of the more popular posts shares 2 Chronicles 7:13-14, “At times I might shut up the heavens so that no rain falls, or command grasshoppers to devour your crops, or send plagues among you. Then if my people who are called by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and restore their land.” which is part of a conversation between Solomon and God after the building of the temple. Using it as a way of making sense of the current situation clearly implies that we are being punished for our sins and that we will only be restored when we repent. Jesus clearly refutes this argument in today’s gospel. The man’s blindness is one of countless opportunities for Jesus to reveal God’s works.
In the aftermath, everyone is full of questions: Is this the same man? If he was healed, how was it done? How can one who claims to be from God break God’s commandments by healing on the Sabbath? The only one who doesn’t have questions, oddly enough, is the man who was healed. He doesn’t ask how a merciful God could have let him be born blind or why Jesus chose to heal him now. For the most part, all of his responses consist of slightly different versions of “All I know is, I was blind, and now I see.” Everyone else is caught up in trying to either deny the miracle or to make it fit their own understanding. Instead of believing what they see, they see what they believe. For them, the more clear the revelation is perceived, the more division it causes.
The newly - sighted man, on the other hand, comes to a series of understandings about Jesus. He is not immediately “born again” in the sense that he can only recite the details of the healing without being able to interpret them. At the end of his first conversation with the Pharisees, he, like the Samaritan woman, concludes that he is a prophet. This isn’t a full understanding, but he is on his way. During his second conversation with the Pharisees, he figures out that Jesus comes from God and is not a “sinner”. Finally, after he is driven out, just as Jesus had been, and Jesus comes and finds him, telling him explicitly that he is the Son of Man, the healed man believes. In spite of the fact that he has been healed by Jesus, the man doesn’t have an instant epiphany. Like Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman and the people of her village, and the disciples themselves, belief is a process for this man -- a process that may well need to be repeated.
Each story that John tells reminds us of the truth of John 3:17, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” The light of God shines on all people regardless of their sinfulness. They may choose darkness over the light, but God will neither deny them the light nor force them into it. AMEN
In John’s gospel, Jesus begins his ministry by turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana, then he drives the moneychangers from the Temple with a whip. While he is still in Jerusalem, he is visited by Nicodemus, a top-level religious official. As I mentioned last week, John regularly uses conversations to allow Jesus to present his message. Someone asks him a question, he replies, they misunderstand and he explains. When Jesus tells Nicodemus that he needs to be born again, Nicodemus replies, “How can an old man go back into his mother’s womb and be born again?” The multiple meanings of rebirth would have been familiar to Nicodemus, and he was an intelligent man, so why did he misunderstand so badly? My hunch is that he is throwing up his hands in exasperation because he cannot possibly do what Jesus is asking. He is an important and respected teacher. How can he possibly be expected to walk away from that and start over as a humble disciple? He is saying, “you might as well ask me to return to the womb.” Jesus essentially dismisses Nicodemus when he says, “If you don’t believe me when I tell you about earthly things, how can you possibly believe if I tell you about heavenly things?” By the time Jesus delivers the message of John 3:16-21, Nicodemus is no longer a part of the conversation.
The conversation with the Samaritan woman follows the same pattern at first. When she misunderstands the meaning of “living water,” we are ready for this to turn into another monologue. What is most striking is the idea of a parched traveller without a rope or a bucket sitting next to a well that is over 100 feet deep and offering water to someone else -- living water, no less! Where Nicodemus failed, the woman succeeds. Even though she doesn’t understand, she asks for a drink, and the conversation continues with Jesus asking her to get her husband. Much has been made about the woman, her five husbands, and her current man. Is she a victim of Levirate marriage who has been forced to marry a succession of brothers? Is she sexually promiscuous? Is John going out of his way to find the biggest of all possible sinners for this encounter? I believe that the most important part of the revelation of the multiple husbands is not that it makes the woman a sinner, but that it defines her, just as being a man of importance defines Nicodemus. Her neighbors likely pitied, loathed, or simply ignored the woman as if she was nobody, but not Jesus. He not only spoke respectfully to her, he did so knowing exactly who she was. This interaction is an illustration of John 3:17: “God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.”
Instead of disappearing like Nicodemus, the woman races home, leaving her bucket behind, to tell everyone,"He told me everything I have ever done." Left unsaid… “and he offered me the living water anyway.” Many believed right away, and even more believed after Jesus spent two days living among them. They understood that faith isn’t a matter of finding the one, true religion and observing it correctly. The question is not “what should I do?” but “who is God?” The answer? He is the God of the present moment. He is the God who is not of the hazy past of religion nor in the far distant future after a life of religious devotion. He is the God who breaks into the present claiming you for himself. The time is now. The place is here. God is real and he is for you.” AMEN
The conversation with the Samaritan woman follows the same pattern at first. When she misunderstands the meaning of “living water,” we are ready for this to turn into another monologue. What is most striking is the idea of a parched traveller without a rope or a bucket sitting next to a well that is over 100 feet deep and offering water to someone else -- living water, no less! Where Nicodemus failed, the woman succeeds. Even though she doesn’t understand, she asks for a drink, and the conversation continues with Jesus asking her to get her husband. Much has been made about the woman, her five husbands, and her current man. Is she a victim of Levirate marriage who has been forced to marry a succession of brothers? Is she sexually promiscuous? Is John going out of his way to find the biggest of all possible sinners for this encounter? I believe that the most important part of the revelation of the multiple husbands is not that it makes the woman a sinner, but that it defines her, just as being a man of importance defines Nicodemus. Her neighbors likely pitied, loathed, or simply ignored the woman as if she was nobody, but not Jesus. He not only spoke respectfully to her, he did so knowing exactly who she was. This interaction is an illustration of John 3:17: “God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.”
Instead of disappearing like Nicodemus, the woman races home, leaving her bucket behind, to tell everyone,"He told me everything I have ever done." Left unsaid… “and he offered me the living water anyway.” Many believed right away, and even more believed after Jesus spent two days living among them. They understood that faith isn’t a matter of finding the one, true religion and observing it correctly. The question is not “what should I do?” but “who is God?” The answer? He is the God of the present moment. He is the God who is not of the hazy past of religion nor in the far distant future after a life of religious devotion. He is the God who breaks into the present claiming you for himself. The time is now. The place is here. God is real and he is for you.” AMEN
It is fitting to read the most famous verse in the New Testament today. As the days continue to get longer, we begin making preparations for spring. The season of Lent works the same way as our anticipation of the resurrection on Easter morning builds. The story of Nicodemus’ visit with Jesus unfolds in a typical pattern for John: Jesus is asked a question, his answer is misunderstood, so he explains further. At some point, Nicodemus isn’t even involved in the conversation anymore -- it is difficult to tell if it is John or Jesus speaking. Either way, John 3:16-21 gives us a clear picture of who Jesus is, why he came, and how we will be judged.
That God loved the world -- all of it -- should come as no surprise. All of creation comes from God and belongs to God. Jesus was sent out of that love, not because a select group of people needed or deserved this act of love. Does that mean that all are saved? I have often focused on the word “believe” as the key to answering that question. Remember that even though he was a religious scholar, Nicodemus got hung up on the idea of being born again. Jesus replies, “The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.” Scientists begin with a question and search for the answer, but people often act as if God couldn’t possibly exist because he cannot be adequately explained. Just like a falling apple led to a greater understanding of gravity and a lightning strike lead to our ability to harness electricity, it is the results of the work of the Spirit that make belief possible. Like the fertilization of an egg or the planting of a seed, faith begins in the dark.
Belief is also a choice. People are free to reject the love of God. Barclay compares introducing someone to God to trying to introduce another to great music, a masterpiece of art, a soul-nourishing book, to gaze upon some beauty. The limitation of this comparison is obvious: individual taste determines what music, art and books someone might enjoy and what they might find beautiful. Still, the idea that great music, art, literature, and beauty can move us -- transport us beyond our normal lives -- holds true of faith as well. John makes it clear that the light will expose the truth and that truth can result in condemnation. However, condemnation is not God’s last word or the reason Jesus came. The world’s sin is not only exposed for what it is; it is also dealt with by “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Christians come to the light of Jesus, and when they go out into the world, Christ is the light by which they see. Walking in Christ’s light, Christians find in themselves a deepening commitment to the whole world God has made. They begin to see all people in the light of God’s love.
The decision Jesus puts before us is a choice with consequences for this life and the life to come. Death or eternal life? Believing or being condemned? Good or evil? Light or dark? The choice to live with or without God is built into the very essence of our existence, but the power of that decision is so overwhelming that we want to think that we must be mistaken. God’s love does not coerce us into relationship, but does require us to choose whether we will love God in return. Our decision is reflected in how we choose to use the gift that God has given us in our earthly lives. We can choose to build up or tear down, love or ignore, heal or hurt, bless or curse. According to John, it is that simple. AMEN
That God loved the world -- all of it -- should come as no surprise. All of creation comes from God and belongs to God. Jesus was sent out of that love, not because a select group of people needed or deserved this act of love. Does that mean that all are saved? I have often focused on the word “believe” as the key to answering that question. Remember that even though he was a religious scholar, Nicodemus got hung up on the idea of being born again. Jesus replies, “The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.” Scientists begin with a question and search for the answer, but people often act as if God couldn’t possibly exist because he cannot be adequately explained. Just like a falling apple led to a greater understanding of gravity and a lightning strike lead to our ability to harness electricity, it is the results of the work of the Spirit that make belief possible. Like the fertilization of an egg or the planting of a seed, faith begins in the dark.
Belief is also a choice. People are free to reject the love of God. Barclay compares introducing someone to God to trying to introduce another to great music, a masterpiece of art, a soul-nourishing book, to gaze upon some beauty. The limitation of this comparison is obvious: individual taste determines what music, art and books someone might enjoy and what they might find beautiful. Still, the idea that great music, art, literature, and beauty can move us -- transport us beyond our normal lives -- holds true of faith as well. John makes it clear that the light will expose the truth and that truth can result in condemnation. However, condemnation is not God’s last word or the reason Jesus came. The world’s sin is not only exposed for what it is; it is also dealt with by “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Christians come to the light of Jesus, and when they go out into the world, Christ is the light by which they see. Walking in Christ’s light, Christians find in themselves a deepening commitment to the whole world God has made. They begin to see all people in the light of God’s love.
The decision Jesus puts before us is a choice with consequences for this life and the life to come. Death or eternal life? Believing or being condemned? Good or evil? Light or dark? The choice to live with or without God is built into the very essence of our existence, but the power of that decision is so overwhelming that we want to think that we must be mistaken. God’s love does not coerce us into relationship, but does require us to choose whether we will love God in return. Our decision is reflected in how we choose to use the gift that God has given us in our earthly lives. We can choose to build up or tear down, love or ignore, heal or hurt, bless or curse. According to John, it is that simple. AMEN
Matthew’s gospel is all about making connections between Jesus and the people of Israel. While we are more likely to be reminded of the temptation of Adam and Eve in the Garden, early Christians would have seen the temptation of Jesus as a recasting of the story of the forty years that the People spent in the wilderness. In addition to the forty-day fast paralleling the forty years in the wilderness, the temptations that are faced and the fact that almost all of the dialogue comes straight from the Old Testament proves that this is intentional on Matthew’s part.
I see three main points that should be dealt with if we are going to understand what this familiar story means to us: What is the role of temptation in faith?, What is the wilderness? and What is sin? The first question brings us all the way back to the beginning of the Bible. Knowing human nature, why did God place one forbidden tree in the Garden? We could even get into a deeper question -- why was Satan allowed into Eden? If we happen to get that one figured out, we can always move on to the question of whether the devil is real. Failing that, let’s get back to the question of temptation. First of all, the word is probably translated better as “testing.” Have you heard the expression, “the exception that proves the rule”? The word “proves” in that expression works in much the same way. The rule has been tested and found to be true. Jesus’ response to testing is the exception that proves the rule. It is not a blueprint for us to overcome temptation. Remember, Jesus taught us to pray, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” We will be tested, but we aren’t supposed to seek it out. Although Satan isn’t about to give up the attempt to sidetrack Jesus, the testing of Jesus proves that he is who he says he is.
Last Sunday when we celebrated the Transfiguration, I mentioned how often Jesus withdrew to the wilderness or to a mountaintop to pray. We can view the wilderness either as the times when we feel disconnected from God for whatever reason -- our own personal times of trial -- or as a place where we intentionally go to spend time alone with God. The question of whether God either causes or allows bad things to happen to us in order to test our faith is a slippery slope that can’t be addressed in one sermon. The fact that we will all have our faith tested and even that we can’t really know whether or not we have faith until and unless we struggle stands either way. If I could recommend one spiritual practice, it would be to make our own wilderness time, to make space to be alone with God. Is there anything more valuable in today’s world than silence? Getting away from our phones, our screens, and our constant state of frantic business is not a luxury, but a necessity. This time spent alone with God will pay dividends when life’s difficulties drive us away from our support systems and make us question everything.
Finally, what is sin? Don’t worry, I’m not going to take the time needed for an exhaustive answer to this question! The original sin was the rejection by Adam and Eve of a fundamental part of their humanness -- a dependance on God. Part of being human is an awareness that we are insufficient, that we are not complete in and of ourselves, and that we never will be. According to Rick Brand, “Most of the time, without any real thought, we do what we want to do and make inferior choices. We trivialize sin when we think of it as an error in judgment. Sin is a flawed approach to decision making that leads us to the worst decision with which we can be comfortable. In a thousand ways we get used to making lesser choices. We’re so used to choosing what’s easiest that deciding to become more than we are doesn’t occur to us.” Jesus calls us to repent, which means to let go of the value that we place on temporarily soothing our feelings of emptiness and turn toward the only true fulfillment -- the Kingdom of God. AMEN
I see three main points that should be dealt with if we are going to understand what this familiar story means to us: What is the role of temptation in faith?, What is the wilderness? and What is sin? The first question brings us all the way back to the beginning of the Bible. Knowing human nature, why did God place one forbidden tree in the Garden? We could even get into a deeper question -- why was Satan allowed into Eden? If we happen to get that one figured out, we can always move on to the question of whether the devil is real. Failing that, let’s get back to the question of temptation. First of all, the word is probably translated better as “testing.” Have you heard the expression, “the exception that proves the rule”? The word “proves” in that expression works in much the same way. The rule has been tested and found to be true. Jesus’ response to testing is the exception that proves the rule. It is not a blueprint for us to overcome temptation. Remember, Jesus taught us to pray, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” We will be tested, but we aren’t supposed to seek it out. Although Satan isn’t about to give up the attempt to sidetrack Jesus, the testing of Jesus proves that he is who he says he is.
Last Sunday when we celebrated the Transfiguration, I mentioned how often Jesus withdrew to the wilderness or to a mountaintop to pray. We can view the wilderness either as the times when we feel disconnected from God for whatever reason -- our own personal times of trial -- or as a place where we intentionally go to spend time alone with God. The question of whether God either causes or allows bad things to happen to us in order to test our faith is a slippery slope that can’t be addressed in one sermon. The fact that we will all have our faith tested and even that we can’t really know whether or not we have faith until and unless we struggle stands either way. If I could recommend one spiritual practice, it would be to make our own wilderness time, to make space to be alone with God. Is there anything more valuable in today’s world than silence? Getting away from our phones, our screens, and our constant state of frantic business is not a luxury, but a necessity. This time spent alone with God will pay dividends when life’s difficulties drive us away from our support systems and make us question everything.
Finally, what is sin? Don’t worry, I’m not going to take the time needed for an exhaustive answer to this question! The original sin was the rejection by Adam and Eve of a fundamental part of their humanness -- a dependance on God. Part of being human is an awareness that we are insufficient, that we are not complete in and of ourselves, and that we never will be. According to Rick Brand, “Most of the time, without any real thought, we do what we want to do and make inferior choices. We trivialize sin when we think of it as an error in judgment. Sin is a flawed approach to decision making that leads us to the worst decision with which we can be comfortable. In a thousand ways we get used to making lesser choices. We’re so used to choosing what’s easiest that deciding to become more than we are doesn’t occur to us.” Jesus calls us to repent, which means to let go of the value that we place on temporarily soothing our feelings of emptiness and turn toward the only true fulfillment -- the Kingdom of God. AMEN
Today we celebrate the festival of the Transfiguration of Our Lord. The story begins six days after Peter has answered Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” correctly, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” This is followed by the famous line, “Get behind me, Satan” in reply to Peter’s reaction to the news that Jesus will suffer, die and be resurrected. Matthew 16 ends: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?“For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”
Our reading begins with Jesus leading Peter, James and John up the mountain. What do you remember about what happened on that mountain top? Read Gospel Lesson after this
Jesus shines like the sun, and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, and the three of them talk. Peter is offering to build three dwellings when he is interrupted by the voice of God saying, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" The disciples fall down in fear, Jesus touches them and tells them not to be afraid. They look up and everything has returned to normal. As they follow Jesus down the mountain, he orders them to "Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead."
The point of going to the mountain top in the Old Testament is to be near to God -- to pray. Jesus regularly goes off to be alone to pray. According to Barclay, “Of everything, Jesus asked one question, and only one question: ‘Is it God’s will for me?’” Remembering that the discussion immediately preceding this mountain top journey involved Jesus’ embarking on his journey to Jerusalem and his death, it is not surprising that Jesus would take time to check in with God. It also makes sense that he would bring his closest disciples, especially Peter, so that they could witness this conversation.
Think about what it must have been like to be in the presence of God. Remember Moses asking God to show him his glory before he went to the mountain top to receive the ten commandments. God had Moses hide in a crack in the rocks and covered him with his hand until he was nearly out of view. Even so, a quick glimpse at the back of God made Moses’ face glow so much that the Isrealites couldn’t even look at him. When Isaiah was in the presence of God in the temple, he cried, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
It is no wonder that this encounter happens in a private place and that Jesus forbids the disciples to talk about it until after the resurrection. The world is not prepared to witness the glory of God until they have also witnessed the crucifixion and the resurrection. Yes, the disciples follow Jesus back into his “regular” ministry of teaching and healing, but they will never be the same. Even though they can’t understand it, their experience has changed them and enabled them to become the founders of the church.
That is what we celebrate today. Not a one-time event when Jesus revealed his divine nature to three disciples. Not Jesus taking the place of Moses and Elijah. Certainly not a domestication of a God whose name could not be spoken and a glimpse of whom could not be survived. We are still to fear God, even as we accept God’s grace through Jesus. Our church is based on the Apostolic tradition where eyewitnesses to the Glory of God through Jesus spread the Gospel throughout the world. Our message is that Jesus was God incarnate -- the one true God -- the way, the truth, and the light. AMEN
Our reading begins with Jesus leading Peter, James and John up the mountain. What do you remember about what happened on that mountain top? Read Gospel Lesson after this
Jesus shines like the sun, and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, and the three of them talk. Peter is offering to build three dwellings when he is interrupted by the voice of God saying, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" The disciples fall down in fear, Jesus touches them and tells them not to be afraid. They look up and everything has returned to normal. As they follow Jesus down the mountain, he orders them to "Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead."
The point of going to the mountain top in the Old Testament is to be near to God -- to pray. Jesus regularly goes off to be alone to pray. According to Barclay, “Of everything, Jesus asked one question, and only one question: ‘Is it God’s will for me?’” Remembering that the discussion immediately preceding this mountain top journey involved Jesus’ embarking on his journey to Jerusalem and his death, it is not surprising that Jesus would take time to check in with God. It also makes sense that he would bring his closest disciples, especially Peter, so that they could witness this conversation.
Think about what it must have been like to be in the presence of God. Remember Moses asking God to show him his glory before he went to the mountain top to receive the ten commandments. God had Moses hide in a crack in the rocks and covered him with his hand until he was nearly out of view. Even so, a quick glimpse at the back of God made Moses’ face glow so much that the Isrealites couldn’t even look at him. When Isaiah was in the presence of God in the temple, he cried, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
It is no wonder that this encounter happens in a private place and that Jesus forbids the disciples to talk about it until after the resurrection. The world is not prepared to witness the glory of God until they have also witnessed the crucifixion and the resurrection. Yes, the disciples follow Jesus back into his “regular” ministry of teaching and healing, but they will never be the same. Even though they can’t understand it, their experience has changed them and enabled them to become the founders of the church.
That is what we celebrate today. Not a one-time event when Jesus revealed his divine nature to three disciples. Not Jesus taking the place of Moses and Elijah. Certainly not a domestication of a God whose name could not be spoken and a glimpse of whom could not be survived. We are still to fear God, even as we accept God’s grace through Jesus. Our church is based on the Apostolic tradition where eyewitnesses to the Glory of God through Jesus spread the Gospel throughout the world. Our message is that Jesus was God incarnate -- the one true God -- the way, the truth, and the light. AMEN
I chose to use last week’s texts this week for two reasons. First, I don’t believe that the section of the Sermon on the Mount assigned for this week stands alone very well. Second, I am a coward. Matthew 5:21-37 is about sin, specifically murder, divorce and adultery and the consequences of sin. So let’s back up a bit and get started. Remember that the Sermon on the Mount is most likely a collection of the teachings of Jesus to the disciples, many of which were given and overheard in public. The section that we are dealing with is presented immediately after the Beatitudes. The disciples have responded to Jesus’ call to, “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is near.” The beatitudes have given them a sort of introduction to who is included in the Kingdom, and now Jesus is explaining to the disciples what their role is in the Kingdom by comparing them to salt and light.
Notice that the disciples aren’t told that they will become salt and light or that they are similar to salt and light. They are already and somehow completely those things. Also, they are warned not to attempt to limit their luminescence or their saltiness. Salt that has lost its saltiness and light hid under a bushel are equally worthless. We might wonder whether the disciples became salt and light when they chose to respond to Jesus’ call or if all people are essentially salt and light. Are the people in the gathered crowd and by extension those who read these words now being told that we too can be salt and light or that we need to remove the impurities that keep salt from being salty and to uncover our lamps? In Luke, we learn that Jesus gives not only the 12, but also a group of 70 disciples “power and authority to cast out all demons and to heal all diseases.” It is difficult for us to understand what, exactly, we are being called to do as Christians. Are we disciples, apostles, neither or both? For now, we are going to need to let go of those distinctions because the text simply doesn’t give us an answer.
Let’s assume that those who choose to identify as Christians have the capacity to be salt and light without worrying about whether others are salty and glowing. What does that mean? For one thing, it means that we are called to add something vital to the wider world. The value of salt is that it brings out flavors that already exist. It doesn’t transform -- it enhances. Light can serve as a signal, it can help plants grow, and it can reveal things. All of those things are also interactive. If we are light and salt, there is risk not only in underperforming through impurity or obscurity, but also in overwhelming. The light of God isn’t to be shined in the eyes of the unbeliever as an interrogation tool, and our saltiness isn’t given to us to overwhelm the competing flavors that exist in the world. Both are simply means of bringing glory to God.
This leads us to the trickier portion of the sermon, which Jesus begins by saying, "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” This is another area where some basic questions can sidetrack us, especially if we don’t pay attention to context. If we keep the ideas of salt and light in mind, it seems to me that Jesus is not eliminating the law, but adding seasoning and light to it. Jesus says, “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
The law hasn’t gone away; it has been enhanced by mercy and forgiveness. That is not to say that our sins don’t matter or that we don’t need the law. Remember that Jesus, when asked which commandment was the most important, replied “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
The law still matters in that it guides our relationships, gives us an ideal toward which to reach, and, most importantly, reveals our imperfections. Before we can fulfill our purpose of making disciples of others, we need to constantly heed Jesus’ call to repent, for the Kingdom of God is near. The same light that reveals the promise of God and the imperfections of others shines on our own shortcomings, unworthiness, and complete dependance on grace. AMEN
Notice that the disciples aren’t told that they will become salt and light or that they are similar to salt and light. They are already and somehow completely those things. Also, they are warned not to attempt to limit their luminescence or their saltiness. Salt that has lost its saltiness and light hid under a bushel are equally worthless. We might wonder whether the disciples became salt and light when they chose to respond to Jesus’ call or if all people are essentially salt and light. Are the people in the gathered crowd and by extension those who read these words now being told that we too can be salt and light or that we need to remove the impurities that keep salt from being salty and to uncover our lamps? In Luke, we learn that Jesus gives not only the 12, but also a group of 70 disciples “power and authority to cast out all demons and to heal all diseases.” It is difficult for us to understand what, exactly, we are being called to do as Christians. Are we disciples, apostles, neither or both? For now, we are going to need to let go of those distinctions because the text simply doesn’t give us an answer.
Let’s assume that those who choose to identify as Christians have the capacity to be salt and light without worrying about whether others are salty and glowing. What does that mean? For one thing, it means that we are called to add something vital to the wider world. The value of salt is that it brings out flavors that already exist. It doesn’t transform -- it enhances. Light can serve as a signal, it can help plants grow, and it can reveal things. All of those things are also interactive. If we are light and salt, there is risk not only in underperforming through impurity or obscurity, but also in overwhelming. The light of God isn’t to be shined in the eyes of the unbeliever as an interrogation tool, and our saltiness isn’t given to us to overwhelm the competing flavors that exist in the world. Both are simply means of bringing glory to God.
This leads us to the trickier portion of the sermon, which Jesus begins by saying, "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” This is another area where some basic questions can sidetrack us, especially if we don’t pay attention to context. If we keep the ideas of salt and light in mind, it seems to me that Jesus is not eliminating the law, but adding seasoning and light to it. Jesus says, “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
The law hasn’t gone away; it has been enhanced by mercy and forgiveness. That is not to say that our sins don’t matter or that we don’t need the law. Remember that Jesus, when asked which commandment was the most important, replied “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
The law still matters in that it guides our relationships, gives us an ideal toward which to reach, and, most importantly, reveals our imperfections. Before we can fulfill our purpose of making disciples of others, we need to constantly heed Jesus’ call to repent, for the Kingdom of God is near. The same light that reveals the promise of God and the imperfections of others shines on our own shortcomings, unworthiness, and complete dependance on grace. AMEN
You are the salt of the earth, the light of the world. Jesus addressed those words to the disciples both individually and collectively as a way of explaining what they had become as a result of choosing to follow him. Salt and light are interesting choices on Jesus’ part. Neither is particularly glamorous, but both are essential. Both are also complementary in nature.
What do we know about salt? Adding salt before you taste your food is insulting to the cook. A little bit of salt goes a long way. I remember eating the salt that was left in the bottom of a bowl of pretzels and becoming sick. On the other hand, food without salt can be unbearably bland. The right amount of salt can bring out the flavors in food. Too much salt can result in high blood pressure, but some salt is needed in our diets. According to Harvard Health, “Salt is the primary way that we get sodium in our diets, and sodium is needed to transmit nerve impulses, contract and relax muscle fibers (including those in the heart and blood vessels), and maintain a proper fluid balance.”
What does our understanding of salt tell us about discipleship? Jesus warns the disciples about losing their saltiness, but that isn’t really possible; salt that isn’t salty isn’t salt. However, salt by itself isn’t good for much beyond melting ice. While there is a variety of salty foods, I can’t recall ever seeing a food advertised as “salt-flavored.” Salt left in the shaker accomplishes nothing. Discipleship, then, means going out and mixing it up -- bringing out the variety of flavors in the world around us. Salt is not rare or exotic; it is the most common and utilitarian of seasonings. If it is used properly, it goes unnoticed.
At first glance, light seems radically different than salt. Light from the sun is essential to the survival of the earth. Without light, we can’t see where we are going or what we are doing. While a grain of salt would disappear in a gallon of water, a single spark would be visible from a great distance on a dark night. However, salt and light have many properties in common. As you know if you have ever been surprised by having a light shined directly in your eyes or worked or studied in a building with harsh, fluorescent lights, little light can go a long way. Like sodium in salt, moderate exposure to sunlight is healthy while too much can be deadly. While different types of lighting can be a draw, light alone doesn’t amount to much. Light is useful because it reveals things that would otherwise be hidden. Of course, that quality of light isn’t always appreciated!
Jesus said, “No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” The bushel basket that Jesus referred to isn’t like the ones that used to be common on farms. It was a protective cover that was placed over the lamp, which was basically a bowl of oil with a floating wick, when the homeowner left the home. The lamp was left lit because lighting it was not easy without matches. Being a disciple means that we can’t play it safe and hide our light. It also means that we aren’t supposed to use the light as a spotlight directed toward ourselves. The part about letting others see our good works can be uncomfortable, especially for Lutherans, unless we finish the thought. It isn’t about us at all, and our actions are not done to earn God’s favor -- we already have that. Our job is to add light and flavor to the world for the glory of God. AMEN
What do we know about salt? Adding salt before you taste your food is insulting to the cook. A little bit of salt goes a long way. I remember eating the salt that was left in the bottom of a bowl of pretzels and becoming sick. On the other hand, food without salt can be unbearably bland. The right amount of salt can bring out the flavors in food. Too much salt can result in high blood pressure, but some salt is needed in our diets. According to Harvard Health, “Salt is the primary way that we get sodium in our diets, and sodium is needed to transmit nerve impulses, contract and relax muscle fibers (including those in the heart and blood vessels), and maintain a proper fluid balance.”
What does our understanding of salt tell us about discipleship? Jesus warns the disciples about losing their saltiness, but that isn’t really possible; salt that isn’t salty isn’t salt. However, salt by itself isn’t good for much beyond melting ice. While there is a variety of salty foods, I can’t recall ever seeing a food advertised as “salt-flavored.” Salt left in the shaker accomplishes nothing. Discipleship, then, means going out and mixing it up -- bringing out the variety of flavors in the world around us. Salt is not rare or exotic; it is the most common and utilitarian of seasonings. If it is used properly, it goes unnoticed.
At first glance, light seems radically different than salt. Light from the sun is essential to the survival of the earth. Without light, we can’t see where we are going or what we are doing. While a grain of salt would disappear in a gallon of water, a single spark would be visible from a great distance on a dark night. However, salt and light have many properties in common. As you know if you have ever been surprised by having a light shined directly in your eyes or worked or studied in a building with harsh, fluorescent lights, little light can go a long way. Like sodium in salt, moderate exposure to sunlight is healthy while too much can be deadly. While different types of lighting can be a draw, light alone doesn’t amount to much. Light is useful because it reveals things that would otherwise be hidden. Of course, that quality of light isn’t always appreciated!
Jesus said, “No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” The bushel basket that Jesus referred to isn’t like the ones that used to be common on farms. It was a protective cover that was placed over the lamp, which was basically a bowl of oil with a floating wick, when the homeowner left the home. The lamp was left lit because lighting it was not easy without matches. Being a disciple means that we can’t play it safe and hide our light. It also means that we aren’t supposed to use the light as a spotlight directed toward ourselves. The part about letting others see our good works can be uncomfortable, especially for Lutherans, unless we finish the thought. It isn’t about us at all, and our actions are not done to earn God’s favor -- we already have that. Our job is to add light and flavor to the world for the glory of God. AMEN
In the few verses between the calling of the first disciples and today’s Gospel reading, Jesus has been busy travelling “throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. As a result, “great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan.” At this point, he sits down to begin teaching his disciples. Whether members of the crowd could hear him or not, it seems most likely that he is addressing his disciples. They have accepted his call to repentance, they have been with him long enough to see his power and to watch the crowds grow. It is time for Jesus to begin teaching them what following Him is all about. The Beatitudes are the first section of what we call the Sermon on the Mount, but it is highly unlikely that this was a single sermon for at least two reasons. It is too long to have been delivered in one section, and much of the same content is scattered throughout the book of Luke. By presenting it this way, Matthew has given us a summary of Jesus’ teachings to his disciples.
The Beatitudes are not entrance requirements for kingdom membership but instead are a description of what kingdom living is like after you have been saved by grace. The key word is, of course, blessed. The word happy is sometimes substituted for blessed, but that just doesn’t do it for me. Happiness is something that comes and goes, something that can be superficial. Even though it involves a relationship with God, being blessed doesn’t mean holy. These blessings transform us, but they don’t remove us from the rest of humanity in a way that holy might imply. A more satisfying definition of being blessed would involve a combination of being fortunate and experiencing intense joy.
When I think about the Beatitudes, I often lump them together around the “woes” from Luke’s version: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.” and to reduce the whole thing to a sort of karma that can be summarized as, “some will get their reward on earth, but others will get their rewards in heaven.” This breaks down because it equalizes earth and heaven. A healthier way to look at them might be, “Blessed are those who are driven to their knees, because that is where they will find God.” As I mentioned last week, the process of repenting is not a one-time call. We are asked to turn from sin and toward God. The Beatitudes tell us what we are turning toward -- the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus mixes earth and the Kingdom of Heaven in the Beatitudes not because Heaven is a misty, far-off reward for those who have suffered on earth, but because He has brought the two together.
The Kingdom of Heaven is about righteousness, mercy and purity of heart. Hungering and thirsting for righteousness, for the world to be reconciled with God, is a Kingdom requirement. When it is as vital to us as food and drink, it becomes a reality in our lives. In the Lord’s Prayer, we ask God to forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us. We receive mercy when we show mercy. While we can never be truly pure of heart on our own, God makes our hearts pure through the cleansing work of Jesus. We are offered lives in the Kingdom here and now. AMEN
The Beatitudes are not entrance requirements for kingdom membership but instead are a description of what kingdom living is like after you have been saved by grace. The key word is, of course, blessed. The word happy is sometimes substituted for blessed, but that just doesn’t do it for me. Happiness is something that comes and goes, something that can be superficial. Even though it involves a relationship with God, being blessed doesn’t mean holy. These blessings transform us, but they don’t remove us from the rest of humanity in a way that holy might imply. A more satisfying definition of being blessed would involve a combination of being fortunate and experiencing intense joy.
When I think about the Beatitudes, I often lump them together around the “woes” from Luke’s version: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.” and to reduce the whole thing to a sort of karma that can be summarized as, “some will get their reward on earth, but others will get their rewards in heaven.” This breaks down because it equalizes earth and heaven. A healthier way to look at them might be, “Blessed are those who are driven to their knees, because that is where they will find God.” As I mentioned last week, the process of repenting is not a one-time call. We are asked to turn from sin and toward God. The Beatitudes tell us what we are turning toward -- the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus mixes earth and the Kingdom of Heaven in the Beatitudes not because Heaven is a misty, far-off reward for those who have suffered on earth, but because He has brought the two together.
The Kingdom of Heaven is about righteousness, mercy and purity of heart. Hungering and thirsting for righteousness, for the world to be reconciled with God, is a Kingdom requirement. When it is as vital to us as food and drink, it becomes a reality in our lives. In the Lord’s Prayer, we ask God to forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us. We receive mercy when we show mercy. While we can never be truly pure of heart on our own, God makes our hearts pure through the cleansing work of Jesus. We are offered lives in the Kingdom here and now. AMEN
After 30 years of waiting, the ministry of Jesus takes off in a hurry. In a matter of a few pages, Matthew takes us from the proclamation of John the Baptist to the baptism of Jesus to the temptation in the wilderness to the calling of the disciples. We have just met John the Baptist and he is already in prison, his ministry effectively ended. The question of the relationship between Jesus and John the Baptist is interesting. I would argue that today’s Gospel reading can be understood as depicting the ministry of Jesus as a continuation of John’s ministry.
First of all, Jesus begins his ministry after finding out that John has been arrested. More importantly, his first message echoes John exactly, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” We often view John the Baptist’s role as that of a bridge between the old and the new, as Elijah passing the torch to Jesus, as a transition from law to gospel. Matthew is especially diligent in connecting Jesus to Old Testament prophecies. John the Baptist’s proclamation to repent is followed by the statement that “this is the one whom the prophet Isaiah spoke…” Jesus’ move from Nazareth to Galilee is described as another fulfillment of the words of Isaiah.
The account of the calling of the first disciples is extremely sparse. Some argue that the first disciples must have already known Jesus, but there is no evidence of that in Matthew’s account, where Jesus summons with irresistible authority, and the men respond with radical obedience. Finally, “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”
It seems clear that the “hinge” of this story is the call to repent -- the same call that John the Baptist issued. Many scholars feel that when Jesus agreed to be baptized by John the Baptist, he became a disciple of John. Others argue that Jesus was never subordinate to anyone. Today’s Gospel reading makes me lean toward the idea that John the Baptist, son of a priest, and Jesus spent time together outside of their brief encounter in the River Jordan. John the Baptist’s call to repent was more than just a warning to turn away from worldly sinfulness because the Messiah was coming to clean house. The arrival of Jesus didn’t end the need for repentance. Look at the story of the disciples. They initially repent by turning away from their livelihoods and their families in order to follow Jesus. This is hardly the only time that they will need to repent. They constantly misunderstand Jesus and fail to obey him. They will sleep through his agony in the garden of Gethsemane, they will flee when he is arrested, and Peter will deny that he even knows Jesus. After the resurrection, Jesus will again need to turn them around and put them on the right path before they are ready to get on with the work of establishing the church. Becoming a person of faith does not mean that one has repented and is now saved. It is a constant process of repentance. It is not a one-time response to a call, but a change of focus that helps us to see that God is constantly beside us. Finally, it is not a call to be transformed from humans into some form of saint or angel. We are all called out as who we are from where we are. Our backgrounds and identities are not denied. On the contrary, we are challenged to put the skills and knowledge that we already have to work for the good of many. AMEN
First of all, Jesus begins his ministry after finding out that John has been arrested. More importantly, his first message echoes John exactly, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” We often view John the Baptist’s role as that of a bridge between the old and the new, as Elijah passing the torch to Jesus, as a transition from law to gospel. Matthew is especially diligent in connecting Jesus to Old Testament prophecies. John the Baptist’s proclamation to repent is followed by the statement that “this is the one whom the prophet Isaiah spoke…” Jesus’ move from Nazareth to Galilee is described as another fulfillment of the words of Isaiah.
The account of the calling of the first disciples is extremely sparse. Some argue that the first disciples must have already known Jesus, but there is no evidence of that in Matthew’s account, where Jesus summons with irresistible authority, and the men respond with radical obedience. Finally, “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”
It seems clear that the “hinge” of this story is the call to repent -- the same call that John the Baptist issued. Many scholars feel that when Jesus agreed to be baptized by John the Baptist, he became a disciple of John. Others argue that Jesus was never subordinate to anyone. Today’s Gospel reading makes me lean toward the idea that John the Baptist, son of a priest, and Jesus spent time together outside of their brief encounter in the River Jordan. John the Baptist’s call to repent was more than just a warning to turn away from worldly sinfulness because the Messiah was coming to clean house. The arrival of Jesus didn’t end the need for repentance. Look at the story of the disciples. They initially repent by turning away from their livelihoods and their families in order to follow Jesus. This is hardly the only time that they will need to repent. They constantly misunderstand Jesus and fail to obey him. They will sleep through his agony in the garden of Gethsemane, they will flee when he is arrested, and Peter will deny that he even knows Jesus. After the resurrection, Jesus will again need to turn them around and put them on the right path before they are ready to get on with the work of establishing the church. Becoming a person of faith does not mean that one has repented and is now saved. It is a constant process of repentance. It is not a one-time response to a call, but a change of focus that helps us to see that God is constantly beside us. Finally, it is not a call to be transformed from humans into some form of saint or angel. We are all called out as who we are from where we are. Our backgrounds and identities are not denied. On the contrary, we are challenged to put the skills and knowledge that we already have to work for the good of many. AMEN
Do you know what our mission statement is? I’ll give you a hint -- it is near the top of the front page of your bulletin: “ Serving together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond.” The point of a mission statement is to inform the work of an organization. In other words, when the organization makes a decision, part of the process is to ask whether or not it meets the mission statement. When I read the second part of today’s Gospel reading, I was reminded of our mission statement.
John’s gospel doesn’t deal with the actual baptism of Jesus at all. It is the next day, and John sees Jesus coming and explains to his disciples and whoever else is listening how he knows that Jesus is “ the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!, a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me, and the Son of God.” The next day, he is standing with at least two of his disciples, and he says, "Look, here is the Lamb of God!", essentially telling his disciples that they should follow Jesus and “making Jesus known in his community and beyond.”
Andrew and an unnamed disciple follow Jesus, who turns to face them and utters his first words in this Gospel, “What are you looking for?” On the surface, these words certainly don’t seem profound -- even in the King James translation, “What seek ye?” In a sense, Jesus is asking these two to develop personal mission statements. "What are you seeking?" What are you looking for? What do you need? It is a question worth wrestling with -- as individuals, as congregations, as communities -- since our answers will have a great deal to do with what we find as well as with the journey we take to get there. What are you seeking? What motivates you? What is that you really need, not just on the surface, but deep down into the core of your being? What are you looking for?
They are unable to answer the question on the spot -- could you? Instead, they ask Jesus, "Rabbi, where are you staying?" We can analyze what deep, hidden meaning this might have or write it off as an awkward response to an unexpected question. The important thing is that they address him as “Rabbi,” acknowledging that he has something to teach him. The answer? “Come and see.” It doesn’t get much simpler than that. If we ask ourselves how we ae to go about making Jesus known in our communities and beyond,it begins with hearing and responding to this invitation from Jesus. The two men go with Jesus and spend the rest of the day with him.
Andrew’s response is the next step to fulfilling our mission statement: he seeks out his brother Simon and brings him to Jesus. Like John the Baptist, Andrew immediately puts Jesus first. Even though he was one of the very first disciples, Andrew will forever after be known as Peter’s brother. Later, he is the one who brings Jesus the loaves and fish and who relayed the request from the Greeks who wanted to see Jesus. Perhaps more importantly, Andrew begins his testimony at home. It is one thing to be a Christian here at church, at a Bible camp, or on a mission trip. It is another to be open and public about your faith at work, at school, or at the grocery store.
How did the disciples do it? They stumble along, following without knowing where they are going, discovering well after the fact that they have wandered onto a path that leads to grace. “Come and see,” Jesus says, and in John’s Gospel the disciples soon taste water turned into wine, watch in horror as Jesus clears the temple, and listen with amazement to Jesus’ words to Nicodemus, that the spirit of God blows wherever it wills. They stumble onto a way of life they have never imagined.
If we are to work together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond, we too need to be willing to do the same. AMEN
John’s gospel doesn’t deal with the actual baptism of Jesus at all. It is the next day, and John sees Jesus coming and explains to his disciples and whoever else is listening how he knows that Jesus is “ the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!, a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me, and the Son of God.” The next day, he is standing with at least two of his disciples, and he says, "Look, here is the Lamb of God!", essentially telling his disciples that they should follow Jesus and “making Jesus known in his community and beyond.”
Andrew and an unnamed disciple follow Jesus, who turns to face them and utters his first words in this Gospel, “What are you looking for?” On the surface, these words certainly don’t seem profound -- even in the King James translation, “What seek ye?” In a sense, Jesus is asking these two to develop personal mission statements. "What are you seeking?" What are you looking for? What do you need? It is a question worth wrestling with -- as individuals, as congregations, as communities -- since our answers will have a great deal to do with what we find as well as with the journey we take to get there. What are you seeking? What motivates you? What is that you really need, not just on the surface, but deep down into the core of your being? What are you looking for?
They are unable to answer the question on the spot -- could you? Instead, they ask Jesus, "Rabbi, where are you staying?" We can analyze what deep, hidden meaning this might have or write it off as an awkward response to an unexpected question. The important thing is that they address him as “Rabbi,” acknowledging that he has something to teach him. The answer? “Come and see.” It doesn’t get much simpler than that. If we ask ourselves how we ae to go about making Jesus known in our communities and beyond,it begins with hearing and responding to this invitation from Jesus. The two men go with Jesus and spend the rest of the day with him.
Andrew’s response is the next step to fulfilling our mission statement: he seeks out his brother Simon and brings him to Jesus. Like John the Baptist, Andrew immediately puts Jesus first. Even though he was one of the very first disciples, Andrew will forever after be known as Peter’s brother. Later, he is the one who brings Jesus the loaves and fish and who relayed the request from the Greeks who wanted to see Jesus. Perhaps more importantly, Andrew begins his testimony at home. It is one thing to be a Christian here at church, at a Bible camp, or on a mission trip. It is another to be open and public about your faith at work, at school, or at the grocery store.
How did the disciples do it? They stumble along, following without knowing where they are going, discovering well after the fact that they have wandered onto a path that leads to grace. “Come and see,” Jesus says, and in John’s Gospel the disciples soon taste water turned into wine, watch in horror as Jesus clears the temple, and listen with amazement to Jesus’ words to Nicodemus, that the spirit of God blows wherever it wills. They stumble onto a way of life they have never imagined.
If we are to work together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond, we too need to be willing to do the same. AMEN
Matthew is the king of understatement. Chapter one begins with the genealogy of Jesus and ends with the briefest of nativity accounts , “but he had not marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus. Chapter two includes the visit of the Magi, the escape to Egypt, the massacre of the infants, and the return from Egypt -- everything that Matthew is going to tell us from the birth of Jesus until the appearance of John the Baptist in the wilderness of Judea. John appears in the wilderness, proclaiming “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” He calls the Pharisees and Sadducess a brood of vipers and sends them packing. Dressed in camel’s hair and living on locusts and honey, John the Baptist looks and sounds like Elijah or one of the other Old Testament prophets. In chapter 3, verses 11 and 12, John does a wonderful job of setting the stage for the arrival of Jesus: “one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fires.”
To this, Matthew adds, “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” What!!!??? Thirty years after his birth, Jesus simply shows up among the crowd waiting to be baptized by John. Most likely, these people were there because they believed that John was fulfilling the prophecy of Isaiah -- that he was “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” In other words, they were there because they believed that the coming of the Messiah was imminent. Jesus comes without an entourage, without the rabbi from his home synagogue, without his mother or siblings, without even a travelling companion that we know of -- he simply shows up and gets in line. If I was writing this, I would at least have had the crowd part, heads turning as they sensed the majesty of this holy man!
The one person who instantly recognizes Jesus is John. This may be because they are related, but it is more likely because he is more focused on the coming Messiah than the crowds were. What I mean is that he saw Jesus as the Messiah because he was looking for the Messiah. His response, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” makes perfect sense, but Jesus persists, speaking his first words in the gospel of Matthew, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” We don’t know exactly what these words meant, but they convince John to baptize Jesus.
Even as Jesus is emerging from the water, “the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” It is clear that Jesus has done the right thing, and his ministry has begun, well almost… The next line of the Gospel is “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” Although we know almost nothing of Jesus’ early life, it only makes sense to me that he would have been taught the scriptures in the Synagogue, and that he would have been a gifted learner who would have received training as a rabbi himself. By quietly presenting himself for baptism, he fulfills the will of his father by identifying with sinners although he is without sin. His blessing by the Spirit is a new beginning, not a congratulations on work completed. Like Adam, Jesus has entered the world without sin. Now he will be put to the test as Adam was before he can begin his ministry. Matthew’s main point is that Jesus is indeed the obedient and righteous Son of God. AMEN
To this, Matthew adds, “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” What!!!??? Thirty years after his birth, Jesus simply shows up among the crowd waiting to be baptized by John. Most likely, these people were there because they believed that John was fulfilling the prophecy of Isaiah -- that he was “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” In other words, they were there because they believed that the coming of the Messiah was imminent. Jesus comes without an entourage, without the rabbi from his home synagogue, without his mother or siblings, without even a travelling companion that we know of -- he simply shows up and gets in line. If I was writing this, I would at least have had the crowd part, heads turning as they sensed the majesty of this holy man!
The one person who instantly recognizes Jesus is John. This may be because they are related, but it is more likely because he is more focused on the coming Messiah than the crowds were. What I mean is that he saw Jesus as the Messiah because he was looking for the Messiah. His response, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” makes perfect sense, but Jesus persists, speaking his first words in the gospel of Matthew, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” We don’t know exactly what these words meant, but they convince John to baptize Jesus.
Even as Jesus is emerging from the water, “the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” It is clear that Jesus has done the right thing, and his ministry has begun, well almost… The next line of the Gospel is “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” Although we know almost nothing of Jesus’ early life, it only makes sense to me that he would have been taught the scriptures in the Synagogue, and that he would have been a gifted learner who would have received training as a rabbi himself. By quietly presenting himself for baptism, he fulfills the will of his father by identifying with sinners although he is without sin. His blessing by the Spirit is a new beginning, not a congratulations on work completed. Like Adam, Jesus has entered the world without sin. Now he will be put to the test as Adam was before he can begin his ministry. Matthew’s main point is that Jesus is indeed the obedient and righteous Son of God. AMEN
I used to tell students that if they weren’t going to read a book, they should at least read the first and last chapters. Today’s Gospel reading is the beautiful prologue of John, which many feel was originally a hymn. As a prologue, it is used to lay out the argument that the author is going to make and to give the reader information that the characters in the narrative wouldn’t have. Depending on which expert you believe, the conclusion of John is either chapter 21, verse 25: “But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.” or chapter 20, verses 30-31: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” Either way, the author’s intention is clear. In fact, the word “believe” is used 98 times in the Gospel of John, and always in the verb form.
So why, according to John, or whoever wrote the Gospel of John, should we be inspired to take the action of believing? Appropriately, John begins “in the beginning,” reminding us that “the stuff of earth is the stuff of God. Not a single thing that has been created was created apart from God. It all came from God, it all belongs to God, and it all testifies to and reveals God. In that way, creation itself is a sacrament, a means of grace.” Of course, the story of humanity is our inability to be what we were created to be. John refers to “the Word,” the power which made the universe and which keeps the universe going.
Verse 5, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”, is one of the most beautiful lines in scripture. The word “overcome” can also be translated ‘comprehend’, or ‘seize the hostile intent.’ John doesn’t tell us what the darkness is, but it isn’t hard to figure out. If it something is life-giving, if it promotes the flourishing of all creation, then it is Christian; if it is death-dealing, it may be real, but it is not ultimate and it is certainly not Christian. It is easy to remember the light of the candles on Christmas Eve and the comfort it brought, but light can be problematic as well. Think of Adam and Eve when “They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden… and hid themselves from the presence of the Lord.” The Word shines its light on and into all of us, revealing who we truly are, and it is a challenge for us to welcome it. As John says, “He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” Here and now, the headlines are full of the fact that the percentage of Americans who don’t affiliate with any specific religious tradition is now roughly the same as those who identify as evangelical or Catholic.
John tells us that “ to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God”. Jesus came and showed us what God is like. That means much more than setting a moral example for us or allowing us to ask “what would Jesus do?” when we are faced with a decision. Barclay says “Ever since men began to think about God they have been trying to define just who and what God is -- and their puny minds get no nearer a definition. But we can cease our thinking and look at Jesus, and we can say: “That is what God is like.” Jesus did not come to talk to men about God; He came to show men what God is like, so that the simplest mind might know God as intimately as the mind of the greatest philosopher.
There will always be parts of ourselves that we would rather conceal than reveal. The world evaluates us by our achievements, possessions, and reputations, and most of us take ourselves far too seriously. Perhaps that explains why ours is the age of anxiety it has become. We are discovering that the gods we have been worshipping cannot sustain us. International turmoil threatens our security and our economy; national tensions disrupt our political integrity. A depression can threaten our financial stability. We thought we had life, and now it appears we do not.
A family once took a tour of the Carlsbad Caverns. As a part of the tour, the lights are turned out. When this happened, a young boy began to cry. His sister reassured him, “Don’t worry, there is someone here who knows how to turn the lights back on.” This is the offer that God made us through Jesus. AMEN
So why, according to John, or whoever wrote the Gospel of John, should we be inspired to take the action of believing? Appropriately, John begins “in the beginning,” reminding us that “the stuff of earth is the stuff of God. Not a single thing that has been created was created apart from God. It all came from God, it all belongs to God, and it all testifies to and reveals God. In that way, creation itself is a sacrament, a means of grace.” Of course, the story of humanity is our inability to be what we were created to be. John refers to “the Word,” the power which made the universe and which keeps the universe going.
Verse 5, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”, is one of the most beautiful lines in scripture. The word “overcome” can also be translated ‘comprehend’, or ‘seize the hostile intent.’ John doesn’t tell us what the darkness is, but it isn’t hard to figure out. If it something is life-giving, if it promotes the flourishing of all creation, then it is Christian; if it is death-dealing, it may be real, but it is not ultimate and it is certainly not Christian. It is easy to remember the light of the candles on Christmas Eve and the comfort it brought, but light can be problematic as well. Think of Adam and Eve when “They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden… and hid themselves from the presence of the Lord.” The Word shines its light on and into all of us, revealing who we truly are, and it is a challenge for us to welcome it. As John says, “He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” Here and now, the headlines are full of the fact that the percentage of Americans who don’t affiliate with any specific religious tradition is now roughly the same as those who identify as evangelical or Catholic.
John tells us that “ to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God”. Jesus came and showed us what God is like. That means much more than setting a moral example for us or allowing us to ask “what would Jesus do?” when we are faced with a decision. Barclay says “Ever since men began to think about God they have been trying to define just who and what God is -- and their puny minds get no nearer a definition. But we can cease our thinking and look at Jesus, and we can say: “That is what God is like.” Jesus did not come to talk to men about God; He came to show men what God is like, so that the simplest mind might know God as intimately as the mind of the greatest philosopher.
There will always be parts of ourselves that we would rather conceal than reveal. The world evaluates us by our achievements, possessions, and reputations, and most of us take ourselves far too seriously. Perhaps that explains why ours is the age of anxiety it has become. We are discovering that the gods we have been worshipping cannot sustain us. International turmoil threatens our security and our economy; national tensions disrupt our political integrity. A depression can threaten our financial stability. We thought we had life, and now it appears we do not.
A family once took a tour of the Carlsbad Caverns. As a part of the tour, the lights are turned out. When this happened, a young boy began to cry. His sister reassured him, “Don’t worry, there is someone here who knows how to turn the lights back on.” This is the offer that God made us through Jesus. AMEN
Our Gospel reading begins in a rather awkward way with, “Now after they had left…” “They” are the Wise Men or Magi or Kings of which there may have been three, twelve, or some other number altogether. They had previously stopped in Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." This terrified not only Herod, but all of Jerusalem, which makes a lot of sense on two levels. It is one thing to talk in the abstract about the coming of the Messiah, but imagine how we would react if we found out that it was really happening here and now. On top of that, the people knew Herod well enough to anticipate that he would react with violence.
The Wise Men show up in Bethlehem somewhere between two weeks and two years of the birth of Jesus. “On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another path.” Herod, of course, does not handle this well. He has failed to trick the Wise Men into telling him where Jesus is, which has to be. I hate to admit it, but his reaction is the one that I understand the best. He is embarrassed by the uncovering of his hypocrisy and reacts in a violent rage. Because he has the power to do so, he orders the killing of all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men.
Joseph, who you may remember took on the role as Jesus’ father as the result of an angel visiting him in a dream, has been visited again and told to take Mary and Jesus to Egypt. I wish that I was better able to identify with Joseph’s unquestioning obedience. It is over a 400 mile walk from Bethlehem to Egypt; I know that I would have complained or at least asked why an all-powerful God couldn’t have just given Herod a heart attack or made me and my family invisible. Matthew makes it clear that “This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, "Out of Egypt I have called my son.”
This is the first of three fulfillments of prophecy pointed out in this passage, and it makes a connection between the story of the Israelites fleeing Egypt as the Pharaoh attempted to have every male Hebrew child. The second prophecy, "A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more." continues the pattern as a historical event is used to describe something that is happening in the present. The final prophecy can’t be traced to the Old Testament. The way that Matthew uses the words of the prophets is instructive. We often think of prophets simply as predictors of the future, but Matthew shows us that they are more often pointing out patterns through history. After all, who would listen to a prophet who talks about something that will only matter in the distant future? A true prophet connects the past to the present in order to show the logic of what the future holds.
Matthew brings the words of the prophets forward and chooses how he describes Jesus’ birth and early years to send his readers a message. This message involves a Messiah who comes into the world fragile, defenseless, and virtually unnoticed. The Wise Men worship him briefly, and then depart -- never to be heard from again. Evil, as personified by Herod, strives to destroy him through indiscriminate violence. Matthew’s Messiah is protected, but indirectly as two righteous people unquestioningly follow instructions revealed in dreams. The heart of Christianity is a transformation of the ordinary, not a flight from it. Through Jesus, the Word became flesh. We are called as Christians to a realistic engagement in life—in the difficulties, struggles, and tensions of human life and relating—that always reflects fidelity to God’s will. AMEN
The Wise Men show up in Bethlehem somewhere between two weeks and two years of the birth of Jesus. “On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another path.” Herod, of course, does not handle this well. He has failed to trick the Wise Men into telling him where Jesus is, which has to be. I hate to admit it, but his reaction is the one that I understand the best. He is embarrassed by the uncovering of his hypocrisy and reacts in a violent rage. Because he has the power to do so, he orders the killing of all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men.
Joseph, who you may remember took on the role as Jesus’ father as the result of an angel visiting him in a dream, has been visited again and told to take Mary and Jesus to Egypt. I wish that I was better able to identify with Joseph’s unquestioning obedience. It is over a 400 mile walk from Bethlehem to Egypt; I know that I would have complained or at least asked why an all-powerful God couldn’t have just given Herod a heart attack or made me and my family invisible. Matthew makes it clear that “This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, "Out of Egypt I have called my son.”
This is the first of three fulfillments of prophecy pointed out in this passage, and it makes a connection between the story of the Israelites fleeing Egypt as the Pharaoh attempted to have every male Hebrew child. The second prophecy, "A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more." continues the pattern as a historical event is used to describe something that is happening in the present. The final prophecy can’t be traced to the Old Testament. The way that Matthew uses the words of the prophets is instructive. We often think of prophets simply as predictors of the future, but Matthew shows us that they are more often pointing out patterns through history. After all, who would listen to a prophet who talks about something that will only matter in the distant future? A true prophet connects the past to the present in order to show the logic of what the future holds.
Matthew brings the words of the prophets forward and chooses how he describes Jesus’ birth and early years to send his readers a message. This message involves a Messiah who comes into the world fragile, defenseless, and virtually unnoticed. The Wise Men worship him briefly, and then depart -- never to be heard from again. Evil, as personified by Herod, strives to destroy him through indiscriminate violence. Matthew’s Messiah is protected, but indirectly as two righteous people unquestioningly follow instructions revealed in dreams. The heart of Christianity is a transformation of the ordinary, not a flight from it. Through Jesus, the Word became flesh. We are called as Christians to a realistic engagement in life—in the difficulties, struggles, and tensions of human life and relating—that always reflects fidelity to God’s will. AMEN
“And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David.” That sounds impressive, doesn’t it? We know that David was a big deal, but do you remember the story of Samuel selecting him to be king? The Lord tells him, I’m sending you to Jesse in Bethlehem because I’ve selected one of his sons to be king.” He invites Jesse and his sons to a sacrifice. Apparently, Jesse’s sons are tall, strong and handsome, and Jesse runs seven of them past Samuel, but God rejects them all, saying, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord sees not as man sees; man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” Finally, it seems that Jesse has run out of sons. David, the youngest, who has been left behind to tend the sheep, is brought out almost as an afterthought. Samuel anoints David in front of his brothers, and, “The Lord’s Spirit came over David and stayed with him from that day on.” Depending on your perspective, Joseph is the descendant of a king, a shepherd, or both.
How fitting that the distant grandson of a shepherd who was filled with the Lord’s Spirit is chosen to act as the earthly father of the Messiah and that he is forced to travel with his young, pregnant bride because the Emperor wants to count heads for the tax rolls. It must have been a terribly difficult trip, and when they arrive there is nowhere for them to stay. Although the famous line, “there was no place for them in the inn,” makes us think of a hotel, they were likely hoping that some distant relative who still lived in Bethlehem would have a bed, or at least room on the floor. Luke wastes no time on details: “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger.”
Meanwhile, there were children wearing bathrobes and holding crooked sticks in the fields, watching their flocks by night. Again, how perfect that it is shepherds who are visited by the Heavenly Host. We have no idea what kind of men these were, but we do know that their social skills and hygiene probably left a lot to be desired since they were much more comfortable around sheep than people and that the priests and people in the temple for whom they were raising the sheep would have considered them unclean. This rounds out our cast of characters: a young woman of about 13 about whose background we know nothing and her husband, the descendant of a shepherd -- a couple of the most ordinary people you could ever meet from the small town of Nazareth and a bunch of smelly shepherds. The couple and their son essentially disappear for the next thirty years, while the shepherds become the first earthly messengers of the birth of the Lord, “and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.”
But that is all history, right? Most of you are here tonight because you are of the house and lineage of someone who still goes to (Baxter, Saron). Hopefully you are experiencing an hour of peace as you hear familiar hymns and texts, and you can forget about what you have in the oven, what time you need to leave tomorrow to get home or to the celebration for the other side of the family, or all of the work that will have accumulated while you took a couple of days off. I completely understand how fleeting moments of peace can be, but I ask that you take a moment tonight to consider what the birth of Christ means to you today. Jesus was the physical presence of the Holy Spirit in the world. His birth brought the Kingdom of God to earth. When Mary was told of her role in the story, she replied, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” When Joseph awoke from being visited by an angel in a dream, he did as he was commanded. When the Glory of the Lord shone around and about the shepherds, they left their flocks to worship the newborn Christ.
If we listen, the Lord will speak to us as well. The Lord who came as a helpless infant and was laid in a feed trough; the Lord who gave his life so that all would be forgiven their sins; the Lord who has promised to return. AMEN
How fitting that the distant grandson of a shepherd who was filled with the Lord’s Spirit is chosen to act as the earthly father of the Messiah and that he is forced to travel with his young, pregnant bride because the Emperor wants to count heads for the tax rolls. It must have been a terribly difficult trip, and when they arrive there is nowhere for them to stay. Although the famous line, “there was no place for them in the inn,” makes us think of a hotel, they were likely hoping that some distant relative who still lived in Bethlehem would have a bed, or at least room on the floor. Luke wastes no time on details: “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger.”
Meanwhile, there were children wearing bathrobes and holding crooked sticks in the fields, watching their flocks by night. Again, how perfect that it is shepherds who are visited by the Heavenly Host. We have no idea what kind of men these were, but we do know that their social skills and hygiene probably left a lot to be desired since they were much more comfortable around sheep than people and that the priests and people in the temple for whom they were raising the sheep would have considered them unclean. This rounds out our cast of characters: a young woman of about 13 about whose background we know nothing and her husband, the descendant of a shepherd -- a couple of the most ordinary people you could ever meet from the small town of Nazareth and a bunch of smelly shepherds. The couple and their son essentially disappear for the next thirty years, while the shepherds become the first earthly messengers of the birth of the Lord, “and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.”
But that is all history, right? Most of you are here tonight because you are of the house and lineage of someone who still goes to (Baxter, Saron). Hopefully you are experiencing an hour of peace as you hear familiar hymns and texts, and you can forget about what you have in the oven, what time you need to leave tomorrow to get home or to the celebration for the other side of the family, or all of the work that will have accumulated while you took a couple of days off. I completely understand how fleeting moments of peace can be, but I ask that you take a moment tonight to consider what the birth of Christ means to you today. Jesus was the physical presence of the Holy Spirit in the world. His birth brought the Kingdom of God to earth. When Mary was told of her role in the story, she replied, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” When Joseph awoke from being visited by an angel in a dream, he did as he was commanded. When the Glory of the Lord shone around and about the shepherds, they left their flocks to worship the newborn Christ.
If we listen, the Lord will speak to us as well. The Lord who came as a helpless infant and was laid in a feed trough; the Lord who gave his life so that all would be forgiven their sins; the Lord who has promised to return. AMEN
Everything that we know about the birth of Jesus comes from Matthew and Luke. The traditional Nativity story, which we will, of course, read on Tuesday night, is Luke 2:1-12. For our Christmas pageants and manger scenes, we usually import the wise men from Matthew. The backstory of John the Baptist, the Angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary and her response, Mary’s visit to Elizabeth, the shepherds, the swaddling clothes, the manger and the Heavenly Host are recorded only in Luke. In addition to the Wise Men, Matthew includes the resulting escape to Egypt, the massacre of the infants at the hands of Herod, and the return to Nazareth. Clearly, a Christmas program based on Matthew would be an unfamiliar and gory affair.
For the final Sunday of Advent this year, we get what my study Bible somewhat misleadingly labels “The Birth of Jesus the Messiah.” I consider it misleading because it includes Joseph’s struggles with Mary’s inexplicable pregnancy and a passing mention that Mary had a son who Joseph named Jesus. While Luke’s focus on Mary, which culminates with her statement, “Let it be to me according to your word,” teaches us how to passively accept the action of God, Matthew’s focus on Joseph shows how to actively respond to God’s actions in the world. Since Joseph never speaks a word in scripture and disappears completely after he and Mary leave the twelve-year-old Jesus at the Temple in Jerusalem, almost everything that we know about Joseph is found in today’s passage.
What do we really know about Joseph? When he appears in the Christmas program or a Nativity scene, the only way to distinguish him from the Shepherds is that he is usually sitting across the manger from Mary. Much later, when the people of Nazareth decide to throw Jesus off a cliff, they mention that his father was a carpenter. The genealogy at the beginning of Matthew and the fact that the Holy couple had to travel to Bethlehem for registration establish him as a descendant of David. Beyond that, we have Matthew 1:19, “Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.”
Let’s begin with the word “righteous,” which can be defined as: “morally good or correct, especially according to standards set by religion.” According to the dictionary, “righteous feelings are caused by a belief that you are right to feel angry, for example because of something bad or wrong.” Because of how Joseph plans to handle the news of Mary’s pregnancy, we know that his righteousness is tempered with mercy. He would have been within his legal rights to demand that Mary be put to death by stoning, so he could have chosen to show “mercy” by publicly humiliating her in order to prove his own righteousness. This shows us that Joseph’s righteousness is not a matter of saying the right things and behaving publicly in the expected manner. He doesn’t need the community to notice and praise him for “doing the right thing.” In fact, he throws caution to the wind by abandoning his original decision based on the appearance of an angel in a dream.
Although we see little of Joseph, he provides the answer to the question, “How much faith does it take to be a Chrisitan?” Only enough to believe that God would not lie. The story itself is dynamic. God is active in history. Mary is an instrument of God’s grace. Joseph is portrayed as a man who trusts in God, and Jesus is Immanuel, God with us. At the center of the story is an overwhelming experience of believing. This is what Christmas is all about! AMEN
For the final Sunday of Advent this year, we get what my study Bible somewhat misleadingly labels “The Birth of Jesus the Messiah.” I consider it misleading because it includes Joseph’s struggles with Mary’s inexplicable pregnancy and a passing mention that Mary had a son who Joseph named Jesus. While Luke’s focus on Mary, which culminates with her statement, “Let it be to me according to your word,” teaches us how to passively accept the action of God, Matthew’s focus on Joseph shows how to actively respond to God’s actions in the world. Since Joseph never speaks a word in scripture and disappears completely after he and Mary leave the twelve-year-old Jesus at the Temple in Jerusalem, almost everything that we know about Joseph is found in today’s passage.
What do we really know about Joseph? When he appears in the Christmas program or a Nativity scene, the only way to distinguish him from the Shepherds is that he is usually sitting across the manger from Mary. Much later, when the people of Nazareth decide to throw Jesus off a cliff, they mention that his father was a carpenter. The genealogy at the beginning of Matthew and the fact that the Holy couple had to travel to Bethlehem for registration establish him as a descendant of David. Beyond that, we have Matthew 1:19, “Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.”
Let’s begin with the word “righteous,” which can be defined as: “morally good or correct, especially according to standards set by religion.” According to the dictionary, “righteous feelings are caused by a belief that you are right to feel angry, for example because of something bad or wrong.” Because of how Joseph plans to handle the news of Mary’s pregnancy, we know that his righteousness is tempered with mercy. He would have been within his legal rights to demand that Mary be put to death by stoning, so he could have chosen to show “mercy” by publicly humiliating her in order to prove his own righteousness. This shows us that Joseph’s righteousness is not a matter of saying the right things and behaving publicly in the expected manner. He doesn’t need the community to notice and praise him for “doing the right thing.” In fact, he throws caution to the wind by abandoning his original decision based on the appearance of an angel in a dream.
Although we see little of Joseph, he provides the answer to the question, “How much faith does it take to be a Chrisitan?” Only enough to believe that God would not lie. The story itself is dynamic. God is active in history. Mary is an instrument of God’s grace. Joseph is portrayed as a man who trusts in God, and Jesus is Immanuel, God with us. At the center of the story is an overwhelming experience of believing. This is what Christmas is all about! AMEN
What is John the Baptist doing in the Christmas story? Part of the answer is that the church year doesn’t follow the story of Jesus in chronological order. On Christmas Eve, we celebrate the nativity. This is a relatively new thing -- until the 9th century, the birth of Jesus was celebrated along with His baptism in the beginning of January. The idea of celebrating Jesus’ birthday on a specific day didn’t seem to occur to anyone until at least 600 years after His death, and the choice of December 25 is completely arbitrary. This makes sense when you consider that the nativity is only reported in two of the four gospels, while the baptism of Jesus is in all three synoptic Gospels, and John the Baptist appears in all four. Our tracking of the life of Jesus ends with Pentecost, which occurs 50 days after Easter, which is celebrated on the first Sunday following the full moon that occurs on or just after the spring equinox. Are you confused yet? Basically, we focus on the life of Jesus from January through May, with May through November being “ordinary time” or the “time after Pentecost”. That brings us to December -- Advent, which is the season in between or the season of waiting.
When we look at Advent this way, the appearance of John the Baptist with his mixture of certainty: "I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.." and doubt, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" is the perfect messenger. After hundreds of years, John emerges in the wilderness, dressed like Elijah, quoting Isaiah, and offering a baptism of repentance that somehow resonated, as “the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.”
John’s description of the work of Jesus, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." can distract us from what John’s baptism was about and offer a clue as to why John later questions whether Jesus is “the one.” John’s baptism of repentance isn’t a simple matter of apologizing for sins before the Messiah arrives in judgement. It is about looking forward to the purification that Jesus will make possible within each individual. Repentance isn’t just about turning away from past sinfulness -- we know that we can never truly leave our sinful nature behind anyway -- it is about accepting the promise that it is possible for us to bear good fruit -- that God will yet do good things among us. As it says in 2 Corinthians, “God is able to make it up to you by giving you everything you need and more so that there will not only be enough for your own needs but plenty left over to give joyfully to others. For God, who gives seed to the farmer to plant, and later on good crops to harvest and eat, will give you more and more seed to plant and will make it grow so that you can give away more and more fruit from your harvest.”
How, then, can John possibly have doubts? Many scholars have gone to great lengths to explain those doubts away -- perhaps he just pretended to have doubts so that his disciples would have this conversation with Jesus, or to excuse those doubts based on how hard it must have been for a man of the outdoors to be locked up in prison. I don’t think that we need to dismiss or excuse John’s doubts. In fact, I believe that we should embrace them. Like Jesus, like us, John was a man, not some sort of robot. He wasn’t simply parroting lines that had been given to him. As Barclay says, “The prophet is two things -- he is the man with a message from God, and he is the man with the courage to deliver that message.” We can add to that the courage to question God in order to increase his own understanding and the effectiveness of his message.
While we still struggle with doubts of our own, we can take comfort in the ending of today’s Gospel: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” We are among the least in the kingdom, but we have a huge advantage over John; we know how the story ends with the resurrection and ascension. Armed with that knowledge, we can confidently await the return of Jesus. As the author of Hebrews tells us This time he will come bringing salvation to all those who are eagerly and patiently waiting for him. AMEN
When we look at Advent this way, the appearance of John the Baptist with his mixture of certainty: "I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.." and doubt, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" is the perfect messenger. After hundreds of years, John emerges in the wilderness, dressed like Elijah, quoting Isaiah, and offering a baptism of repentance that somehow resonated, as “the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.”
John’s description of the work of Jesus, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." can distract us from what John’s baptism was about and offer a clue as to why John later questions whether Jesus is “the one.” John’s baptism of repentance isn’t a simple matter of apologizing for sins before the Messiah arrives in judgement. It is about looking forward to the purification that Jesus will make possible within each individual. Repentance isn’t just about turning away from past sinfulness -- we know that we can never truly leave our sinful nature behind anyway -- it is about accepting the promise that it is possible for us to bear good fruit -- that God will yet do good things among us. As it says in 2 Corinthians, “God is able to make it up to you by giving you everything you need and more so that there will not only be enough for your own needs but plenty left over to give joyfully to others. For God, who gives seed to the farmer to plant, and later on good crops to harvest and eat, will give you more and more seed to plant and will make it grow so that you can give away more and more fruit from your harvest.”
How, then, can John possibly have doubts? Many scholars have gone to great lengths to explain those doubts away -- perhaps he just pretended to have doubts so that his disciples would have this conversation with Jesus, or to excuse those doubts based on how hard it must have been for a man of the outdoors to be locked up in prison. I don’t think that we need to dismiss or excuse John’s doubts. In fact, I believe that we should embrace them. Like Jesus, like us, John was a man, not some sort of robot. He wasn’t simply parroting lines that had been given to him. As Barclay says, “The prophet is two things -- he is the man with a message from God, and he is the man with the courage to deliver that message.” We can add to that the courage to question God in order to increase his own understanding and the effectiveness of his message.
While we still struggle with doubts of our own, we can take comfort in the ending of today’s Gospel: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” We are among the least in the kingdom, but we have a huge advantage over John; we know how the story ends with the resurrection and ascension. Armed with that knowledge, we can confidently await the return of Jesus. As the author of Hebrews tells us This time he will come bringing salvation to all those who are eagerly and patiently waiting for him. AMEN
I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but we have totally screwed up the season of Advent by the amount of attention that we give Christmas. More specifically, we have made Advent into a giant celebration of Jesus’ first birthday. Mark and John don’t mention the birth of Jesus at all, and only the first two chapters of Matthew and Luke do so. The birth of Christ wasn’t celebrated at all for the first three centuries of Christianity; Epiphany and Easter were the most significant holy days. It is likely only celebrated on December 25th because it fits between the seasons of Advent and Epiphany. Somehow, we have managed to lose sight of the fact that Advent celebrates the whole “Christ event,” the total coming of the Son of God in the flesh, which includes not only his nativity but also his whole ministry, his death, resurrection, and ascension, and that Epiphany lifts up the events that manifest the divinity of Jesus.
Yes, we believe that Jesus is the Son of God, conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary, but there is so much more! Christmas is a personal thing. It came not to the masses but only to a few: the watching Wise Men and to the waiting shepherds. On the other hand, “the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to (John the Baptist), and all the region along the Jordan” to receive a “baptism of repentance.” Keep in mind that both Jesus and John appear essentially out of nowhere in the wilderness. After 400 years of prophetic silence, the people hear "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight." Of course, this is necessary because nobody has any idea of who Jesus is or even that he exists.
John’s message, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near,” can get sidetracked when we focus on his later talk of judgement. John is not telling people that they better say that they are sorry, or they’ll “get it” when their father comes home. "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." The call for repentance signals that there is something wrong and there is a need for change. Repentance means to take responsibility for the future and let go of the past and to feelings of entitlement. Repentance links being and doing -- faith and action. Because we are the children of God, we are meant to bear good fruit. This metaphor is extremely useful: plants don’t bear fruit because they intend to do so, but because of a variety of conditions -- the fertility of the soil, lack of competition from other plants, and favorable weather to name a few. Unlike plants, we have some degree of control over our conditions. Think of the explanation of the Parable of the Sower which concludes: “But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”
The season of advent is about hope, and not just the hope embodied in a miraculous, long-ago infant. Our hope is based on who that baby grew up to be, the healer and teacher who was crucified, died, and was buried; who descended to the dead, rose again, and ascended into heaven, where he is seated at the right hand of the Father. Our hope is based on the presence among us of the Holy Spirit and the belief that Jesus will come again to judge the living and the dead. It can be uncomfortable for us to talk about judgement, but what is the point of God’s mercy if judgement isn’t a possibility? John’s metaphor of harvest: “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." Is not meant to scare people into obedience, but to show them that they have an important choice to make. Fire gives light and warmth, but it also purifies, which means that it has a capacity for destruction. If we are to bear fruit, we need to work -- not to earn salvation -- but to live as we were created to live. Will you move into this Advent season in hope and in the sure confidence that fruit is yet to come, that God will yet do a new thing among us? AMEN
Yes, we believe that Jesus is the Son of God, conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary, but there is so much more! Christmas is a personal thing. It came not to the masses but only to a few: the watching Wise Men and to the waiting shepherds. On the other hand, “the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to (John the Baptist), and all the region along the Jordan” to receive a “baptism of repentance.” Keep in mind that both Jesus and John appear essentially out of nowhere in the wilderness. After 400 years of prophetic silence, the people hear "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight." Of course, this is necessary because nobody has any idea of who Jesus is or even that he exists.
John’s message, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near,” can get sidetracked when we focus on his later talk of judgement. John is not telling people that they better say that they are sorry, or they’ll “get it” when their father comes home. "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." The call for repentance signals that there is something wrong and there is a need for change. Repentance means to take responsibility for the future and let go of the past and to feelings of entitlement. Repentance links being and doing -- faith and action. Because we are the children of God, we are meant to bear good fruit. This metaphor is extremely useful: plants don’t bear fruit because they intend to do so, but because of a variety of conditions -- the fertility of the soil, lack of competition from other plants, and favorable weather to name a few. Unlike plants, we have some degree of control over our conditions. Think of the explanation of the Parable of the Sower which concludes: “But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”
The season of advent is about hope, and not just the hope embodied in a miraculous, long-ago infant. Our hope is based on who that baby grew up to be, the healer and teacher who was crucified, died, and was buried; who descended to the dead, rose again, and ascended into heaven, where he is seated at the right hand of the Father. Our hope is based on the presence among us of the Holy Spirit and the belief that Jesus will come again to judge the living and the dead. It can be uncomfortable for us to talk about judgement, but what is the point of God’s mercy if judgement isn’t a possibility? John’s metaphor of harvest: “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." Is not meant to scare people into obedience, but to show them that they have an important choice to make. Fire gives light and warmth, but it also purifies, which means that it has a capacity for destruction. If we are to bear fruit, we need to work -- not to earn salvation -- but to live as we were created to live. Will you move into this Advent season in hope and in the sure confidence that fruit is yet to come, that God will yet do a new thing among us? AMEN
Are you ready? This is a question that comes up regularly at this time of year. Are you ready for winter? Snow? Thanksgiving? Christmas? What do we do to get ready? Preparing for winter and snow is a combination of picking things up before the snow covers them and waiting for the snow to cover things so that I can stop feeling guilty for not picking them up. Sometimes we joke about getting ready. For example, if we waited until we were ready to have kids, would anyone actually have kids? It seems to me that the only possible training for raising children is raising children. I remember getting ready for the 4h tour when I was a kid. We mowed everything green and painted everything that didn’t move. When confirmations and graduation came around, it was time to do household projects that otherwise might have waited for years: the house was not only scrubbed from top to bottom, walls were painted, carpeting was replaced, every effort was made to conceal the fact that people actually lived in our home. All of this happened in spite of the fact that my parents were obsessive about keeping the place neat and tidy anyway.
Tami and I view preparation differently than our parents did. While we try to tidy up, there is never any doubt that people live in our house. It is just a matter of finding the room or closet that holds all of the stuff that usually clutters up the rest of the house. Confirmations and graduations were celebrated at the church so that we didn’t have to scrub the garage floor for company. The answer to the question, “Are you ready” wasn’t “yes,” it was “as ready as we’re going to get.” No matter how we prepare, the seasons change, the snow falls, and people continue eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage.
In the Gospel reading, Jesus harkens back to the time of the flood. While Noah and his family prepared, the rest of the world continued to go about its daily business. If they were asked, I’m sure that most of the people would have said that they were living good lives, or at least lives that put them in the upper half of any scale of measurement. Had they known about the impending flood, how many would have seen the need to change and how many would have been confident that they were worthy of being spared? I wonder if we would have been able to see what made Noah and his family different if we had been there.
Jesus says, “so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.” This leads me to believe that the difference won’t be as obvious as the difference between my mother’s housekeeping and mine. Trying to live as if company was always coming sounds exhausting: is everything picked up? Are the dishes done? Do we have something to set out for lunch? I have to believe that this isn’t the kind of readiness that Jesus is talking about. If you think about it, aren’t there people for whom you feel the need to prepare and others who you simple welcome into your home? People who want to get a look at your house or your place so that they can evaluate your stuff and how you care for it and others who are just glad to see you?
Jesus will not be a surprise guest for several reasons, the most important of which is that he is already here. As we take communion, we are intentionally welcoming Jesus into our lives. Although we don’t view him as the type of guest who comes simply to judge, we know that Jesus will return in judgement. We also know that, just as winter and snow come every year, God’s kingdom will come as surely as we will all die. Fortunately, we don’t need to do anything extraordinary. Jesus was born, Jesus is here, and Jesus will come again. If we believe that, we are prepared. AMEN
Tami and I view preparation differently than our parents did. While we try to tidy up, there is never any doubt that people live in our house. It is just a matter of finding the room or closet that holds all of the stuff that usually clutters up the rest of the house. Confirmations and graduations were celebrated at the church so that we didn’t have to scrub the garage floor for company. The answer to the question, “Are you ready” wasn’t “yes,” it was “as ready as we’re going to get.” No matter how we prepare, the seasons change, the snow falls, and people continue eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage.
In the Gospel reading, Jesus harkens back to the time of the flood. While Noah and his family prepared, the rest of the world continued to go about its daily business. If they were asked, I’m sure that most of the people would have said that they were living good lives, or at least lives that put them in the upper half of any scale of measurement. Had they known about the impending flood, how many would have seen the need to change and how many would have been confident that they were worthy of being spared? I wonder if we would have been able to see what made Noah and his family different if we had been there.
Jesus says, “so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.” This leads me to believe that the difference won’t be as obvious as the difference between my mother’s housekeeping and mine. Trying to live as if company was always coming sounds exhausting: is everything picked up? Are the dishes done? Do we have something to set out for lunch? I have to believe that this isn’t the kind of readiness that Jesus is talking about. If you think about it, aren’t there people for whom you feel the need to prepare and others who you simple welcome into your home? People who want to get a look at your house or your place so that they can evaluate your stuff and how you care for it and others who are just glad to see you?
Jesus will not be a surprise guest for several reasons, the most important of which is that he is already here. As we take communion, we are intentionally welcoming Jesus into our lives. Although we don’t view him as the type of guest who comes simply to judge, we know that Jesus will return in judgement. We also know that, just as winter and snow come every year, God’s kingdom will come as surely as we will all die. Fortunately, we don’t need to do anything extraordinary. Jesus was born, Jesus is here, and Jesus will come again. If we believe that, we are prepared. AMEN
Why are we talking about Christ’s death this close to Christmas? Today is Christ the King Sunday, which was established by Pope Pius XI in 1925 because he believed that many Christians (including Catholics) had begun to doubt Christ's authority and existence, as well as the Church's power to continue Christ's authority. It was moved to the last Sunday of the church year in 1969 in the hope that it would provide a much-needed opportunity for Christians to examine what the reign of Christ meant to them.
We begin on the cross because the crucifixion and resurrection are the heart of our faith. In our last couple of readings from Luke, Jesus has been teaching in a variety of ways: he is teaching daily in the temple, refuting the arguments of various accusers, and instructing his disciples, all in front of large, mixed crowds. At the crucifixion, the disciples have likely scattered, but Jesus continues his public teaching. The crowds watch, the leaders scoff, the soldiers mock, Rome announces its public position with the inscription, “This is the king of the Jews,” and the criminals on either side of him argue about his identity. Jesus is as vulnerable as it is possible for a person to be; he has been tried for crimes that he did not commit, found innocent, and sentenced to death anyway. He has been flogged and mocked. People who had shouted Hosannas when he entered the city now joined in choruses of “Crucify Him!” He is naked and enduring one of the most diabolical and cruel forms of execution ever devised, and he says, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Today, on Christ the King Sunday, I challenge you to examine your faith in the sovereignty of Jesus based on that one line of scripture, beginning with the humble pronoun “them.” The nearest identified people are the two criminals. Like everyone else in the scene, they are in need of forgiveness. Who else gets included in the compassion and mercy of Jesus? Do we believe that it includes Pilate, the soldiers, those who nail Jesus to the cross, the chief priests and temple authorities? Does it include Judas? The disciples who have run away to hide? Are those who are carried away by mob mentality and those who stand silently by and witness the crucifixion? Does it include us? Don’t make this list too quickly because your answer comes with some complications.
Even if we narrow the “them” to the two criminals, do we really believe that they are both forgiven? Only one of them acknowledges his own guilt and Jesus’ innocence, but he doesn’t plead for forgiveness or offer full-scale repentance. We aren’t even sure what his crimes were -- he might have been guilty of one of the really bad ones specifically mentioned in scripture! If we believe that Jesus’ forgiveness is extended to anyone beyond the criminal who recognizes him as king, we need to let go of the idea that forgiveness only comes to those who confess. There is no record of Pilate, or the religious authorities, or the soldiers, or the people gathering at the foot of the cross, seeking forgiveness for what they have done. On the contrary, Jesus petitions for divine forgiveness (rather than divine retribution) for people who are still hopelessly entangled in a great conspiracy of evil.
That is good because so are we. Any effort to separate ourselves from those who judged Jesus, those who condemned him to death, those who ran and hid, those who mocked him and spit on him, and those who stood silently by is futile. Jesus died for our sins, and Jesus’ power to forgive is not limited by human understanding. AMEN
We begin on the cross because the crucifixion and resurrection are the heart of our faith. In our last couple of readings from Luke, Jesus has been teaching in a variety of ways: he is teaching daily in the temple, refuting the arguments of various accusers, and instructing his disciples, all in front of large, mixed crowds. At the crucifixion, the disciples have likely scattered, but Jesus continues his public teaching. The crowds watch, the leaders scoff, the soldiers mock, Rome announces its public position with the inscription, “This is the king of the Jews,” and the criminals on either side of him argue about his identity. Jesus is as vulnerable as it is possible for a person to be; he has been tried for crimes that he did not commit, found innocent, and sentenced to death anyway. He has been flogged and mocked. People who had shouted Hosannas when he entered the city now joined in choruses of “Crucify Him!” He is naked and enduring one of the most diabolical and cruel forms of execution ever devised, and he says, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Today, on Christ the King Sunday, I challenge you to examine your faith in the sovereignty of Jesus based on that one line of scripture, beginning with the humble pronoun “them.” The nearest identified people are the two criminals. Like everyone else in the scene, they are in need of forgiveness. Who else gets included in the compassion and mercy of Jesus? Do we believe that it includes Pilate, the soldiers, those who nail Jesus to the cross, the chief priests and temple authorities? Does it include Judas? The disciples who have run away to hide? Are those who are carried away by mob mentality and those who stand silently by and witness the crucifixion? Does it include us? Don’t make this list too quickly because your answer comes with some complications.
Even if we narrow the “them” to the two criminals, do we really believe that they are both forgiven? Only one of them acknowledges his own guilt and Jesus’ innocence, but he doesn’t plead for forgiveness or offer full-scale repentance. We aren’t even sure what his crimes were -- he might have been guilty of one of the really bad ones specifically mentioned in scripture! If we believe that Jesus’ forgiveness is extended to anyone beyond the criminal who recognizes him as king, we need to let go of the idea that forgiveness only comes to those who confess. There is no record of Pilate, or the religious authorities, or the soldiers, or the people gathering at the foot of the cross, seeking forgiveness for what they have done. On the contrary, Jesus petitions for divine forgiveness (rather than divine retribution) for people who are still hopelessly entangled in a great conspiracy of evil.
That is good because so are we. Any effort to separate ourselves from those who judged Jesus, those who condemned him to death, those who ran and hid, those who mocked him and spit on him, and those who stood silently by is futile. Jesus died for our sins, and Jesus’ power to forgive is not limited by human understanding. AMEN
In last week’s Gospel, Jesus was being challenged by the Sadducees, the last of the opposition groups to confront him in the temple. That passage ended, “some of the scribes answered, ‘teacher you have spoken well.’ For they no longer dared to ask him another question. Before leaving the temple, Jesus warns the disciples, in the hearing of all the people, to “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets.They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” This is followed by the story of the widow’s offering, the point of which is that “the widow has put in more than all of them; for all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in all she had to live on.” This sets up today’s gospel reading. Since we haven’t been told differently, we can assume that Jesus is still talking to his disciples in the hearing of the crowd. That means that his message is meant not only for the disciples, but for everyone.
This passage is usually described as apocalyptic. For the Jews, time was divided into the present age and the age to come with the day of the Lord bringing about the division. I don’t disagree that there is apocalyptic imagery here, but I don’t think that the end times are the point. One reason for this is that fact that the temple has already been destroyed by the time that Luke writes this passage -- it is already a historical fact. In addition, wars, earthquakes, famines and plagues, while dramatic, are all facts of life that have occurred throughout history. There will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven, but will we recognize them? Instead of answering that question, Jesus interrupts his narrative with, "But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name.” Within the suffering of the world, the disciples will experience suffering because they follow Jesus.
Once again, the disciples have asked the wrong question, "Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?" Of course, this is the question that would have been foremost for the others in the crowd, and it is a question that has dominated Christianity almost from the beginning. It is the reason that the second letter to the Thessalonians has to tell people that they can’t coast in the assurance that the Day of the Lord is near. We need to move past this question to get the true message from this passage.
The first part of the message might be the hardest to hear -- all of the bad things that happen, often to good people, are not only inevitable, they are also an opportunity to testify. Although we often forget to do so, it is easy to testify to the goodness of God when things go well, when test results are positive, when a child is born healthy, when our relationships nurture us, when the crops are good, but how do we testify in times of suffering? One suggestion that we came up with at Bible study this week was, “It could be worse,” which could be supported by, “without God.” While this is mildly reassuring, it offers little comfort in the midst of suffering. Another strategy is to point to God’s plan and the fact that we cannot understand that plan. If we have faith, we will eventually understand that everything happens for a reason. This might work well if the tragedy is not terminal -- a lost job, for example, but it is cold comfort at best after an unexpected death.
That is why Jesus’ next words, “So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict,” are so comforting. None of us, not even the apostles, are asked to explain the unexplainable. Instead, we are called to endure, and “By (y)our endurance you will gain (y)our souls.” As our first reading reminds us, “Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.”
God did not create us as some grand experiment to see who would live lives worthy of redemption and who would fall short. There is no Biblical promise that faith will lead to lives in which things will gradually get better until the Kingdom is reached. To live is to experience life’s struggles, struggles with career, with family, with relationships, and with faith. The question is not whether we will struggle, but how we will live through our struggles as people of faith. Jesus has assured us of final victory, but this victory will not be a celebration where good towers over evil with an upraised fist. The victory will emerge when sinners are transformed into saints, enemies into friends, and warriors into worshipers. The church is called to endure in the promise of hope that all sinners can repent and come home to God. AMEN
This passage is usually described as apocalyptic. For the Jews, time was divided into the present age and the age to come with the day of the Lord bringing about the division. I don’t disagree that there is apocalyptic imagery here, but I don’t think that the end times are the point. One reason for this is that fact that the temple has already been destroyed by the time that Luke writes this passage -- it is already a historical fact. In addition, wars, earthquakes, famines and plagues, while dramatic, are all facts of life that have occurred throughout history. There will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven, but will we recognize them? Instead of answering that question, Jesus interrupts his narrative with, "But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name.” Within the suffering of the world, the disciples will experience suffering because they follow Jesus.
Once again, the disciples have asked the wrong question, "Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?" Of course, this is the question that would have been foremost for the others in the crowd, and it is a question that has dominated Christianity almost from the beginning. It is the reason that the second letter to the Thessalonians has to tell people that they can’t coast in the assurance that the Day of the Lord is near. We need to move past this question to get the true message from this passage.
The first part of the message might be the hardest to hear -- all of the bad things that happen, often to good people, are not only inevitable, they are also an opportunity to testify. Although we often forget to do so, it is easy to testify to the goodness of God when things go well, when test results are positive, when a child is born healthy, when our relationships nurture us, when the crops are good, but how do we testify in times of suffering? One suggestion that we came up with at Bible study this week was, “It could be worse,” which could be supported by, “without God.” While this is mildly reassuring, it offers little comfort in the midst of suffering. Another strategy is to point to God’s plan and the fact that we cannot understand that plan. If we have faith, we will eventually understand that everything happens for a reason. This might work well if the tragedy is not terminal -- a lost job, for example, but it is cold comfort at best after an unexpected death.
That is why Jesus’ next words, “So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict,” are so comforting. None of us, not even the apostles, are asked to explain the unexplainable. Instead, we are called to endure, and “By (y)our endurance you will gain (y)our souls.” As our first reading reminds us, “Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.”
God did not create us as some grand experiment to see who would live lives worthy of redemption and who would fall short. There is no Biblical promise that faith will lead to lives in which things will gradually get better until the Kingdom is reached. To live is to experience life’s struggles, struggles with career, with family, with relationships, and with faith. The question is not whether we will struggle, but how we will live through our struggles as people of faith. Jesus has assured us of final victory, but this victory will not be a celebration where good towers over evil with an upraised fist. The victory will emerge when sinners are transformed into saints, enemies into friends, and warriors into worshipers. The church is called to endure in the promise of hope that all sinners can repent and come home to God. AMEN
Have you ever read the Bible in chronological order -- like a novel? If you haven’t, I highly recommend it, and it isn’t hard to do. Two of the easiest ways are to read “The Story: The Bible as One Continuing Story of God and His People,” or to find a child’s storybook Bible. I mention this because it is easy to lose track of the order of events in the Bible when they are chopped up and delivered on Sunday mornings. For example, today’s reading takes place in Jerusalem after Palm Sunday and Jesus throwing the moneylenders out of the Temple. Luke 19 ends with: “Every day he was teaching in the temple. The chief priests, the scribes, and the leaders of the people kept looking for a way to kill him; but they did not find anything they could do, for all the people were spellbound by what they heard.”
Luke 20 contains a series of attempts by this unholy alliance of chief priests, scribes and the leaders of the people to discredit Jesus. These groups are willing to set their differences aside in order to preserve their own status. In today’s Gospel reading, the Sadducees have their crack at Jesus. The Sadducees were the great high muckety-mucks of the religious establishment. They believed the only the Penteteuch was true scripture, so the idea of a Messiah was an unwelcome one. Beyond that, their role as the keepers of the Temple kept them rich and well-fed. They had carefully cultivated relationships with the Roman government to preserve their wealth and power.
Their trap doesn’t make a lot of sense to today’s listener. They trot out ancient (and mostly unobserved) Mosaic law regarding marriage. In their example, the poor, childless woman is married to not one, not two, not three, but seven brothers -- each of whom die on her. It is important to remember that procreation was the basis for marriage in this time -- our ideas of romantic love would have been viewed as highly impractical -- and that being childless would have been the ultimate failure. Think of Abraham and Sarah turning to Sarah’s servant to bear him a son. Their question for Jesus, “whose wife will the woman be?” was meant to make the very idea of resurrection seem ridiculous. Although the law was obscure even then, the question would have made sense to the listeners.
Jesus reply can also seem confusing to us. Let’s begin with the idea of being “in the resurrection.” Notice that there is no mention of Heaven here and that the resurrected will not become angels, but will be like angels. Jesus’ listeners would have understood that humans were created a little lower than the angels, who had existed since before creation. Although angels sometimes interacted with humans, they were not the spirits of humans, and they had none of the physical needs of humans. The resurrected would have no need of marriage because marriage was based on physical needs. They have no fear of death and no need to have offspring to carry on their legacy.
On the other hand, the resurrected are not dead. Jesus uses evidence that the Sadducees will understand: “where Moses speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” Surely God isn’t the Lord of the dead, but of the living. The truly encouraging part of this for us is that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob all keep their unique identities after the resurrection.
What is in store for us after the resurrection? The ELCA doesn’t focus on the resurrection of the body nearly as much as other denominations, but that is a prevalent image in scripture. It isn’t a matter of some wispy element that we call a soul floating up into the ether; resurrection insists that the whole person will in some way be united with God. What does this look like? There is no possible way for our limited imaginations to picture it. Pope Francis assures us that “ In Jesus God gives us eternal life: he gives it to everyone, and everyone can, thanks to him, hope to live a life even more real than this one. The life that God has in store for us is not simply a better version of this one: it goes beyond our imagination, because God continually surprises us with His love and mercy.”
Luke 20 ends with a warning from Jesus: “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets. They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” The message of Jesus is simple:" Love the Lord thy God with all your heart, soul, and mind. love your neighbor as yourself.” The promise of eternal life is equally simple. Beware of those who try to manipulate you by making it seem complicated.
Luke 20 contains a series of attempts by this unholy alliance of chief priests, scribes and the leaders of the people to discredit Jesus. These groups are willing to set their differences aside in order to preserve their own status. In today’s Gospel reading, the Sadducees have their crack at Jesus. The Sadducees were the great high muckety-mucks of the religious establishment. They believed the only the Penteteuch was true scripture, so the idea of a Messiah was an unwelcome one. Beyond that, their role as the keepers of the Temple kept them rich and well-fed. They had carefully cultivated relationships with the Roman government to preserve their wealth and power.
Their trap doesn’t make a lot of sense to today’s listener. They trot out ancient (and mostly unobserved) Mosaic law regarding marriage. In their example, the poor, childless woman is married to not one, not two, not three, but seven brothers -- each of whom die on her. It is important to remember that procreation was the basis for marriage in this time -- our ideas of romantic love would have been viewed as highly impractical -- and that being childless would have been the ultimate failure. Think of Abraham and Sarah turning to Sarah’s servant to bear him a son. Their question for Jesus, “whose wife will the woman be?” was meant to make the very idea of resurrection seem ridiculous. Although the law was obscure even then, the question would have made sense to the listeners.
Jesus reply can also seem confusing to us. Let’s begin with the idea of being “in the resurrection.” Notice that there is no mention of Heaven here and that the resurrected will not become angels, but will be like angels. Jesus’ listeners would have understood that humans were created a little lower than the angels, who had existed since before creation. Although angels sometimes interacted with humans, they were not the spirits of humans, and they had none of the physical needs of humans. The resurrected would have no need of marriage because marriage was based on physical needs. They have no fear of death and no need to have offspring to carry on their legacy.
On the other hand, the resurrected are not dead. Jesus uses evidence that the Sadducees will understand: “where Moses speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” Surely God isn’t the Lord of the dead, but of the living. The truly encouraging part of this for us is that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob all keep their unique identities after the resurrection.
What is in store for us after the resurrection? The ELCA doesn’t focus on the resurrection of the body nearly as much as other denominations, but that is a prevalent image in scripture. It isn’t a matter of some wispy element that we call a soul floating up into the ether; resurrection insists that the whole person will in some way be united with God. What does this look like? There is no possible way for our limited imaginations to picture it. Pope Francis assures us that “ In Jesus God gives us eternal life: he gives it to everyone, and everyone can, thanks to him, hope to live a life even more real than this one. The life that God has in store for us is not simply a better version of this one: it goes beyond our imagination, because God continually surprises us with His love and mercy.”
Luke 20 ends with a warning from Jesus: “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets. They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” The message of Jesus is simple:" Love the Lord thy God with all your heart, soul, and mind. love your neighbor as yourself.” The promise of eternal life is equally simple. Beware of those who try to manipulate you by making it seem complicated.
If you wanted to introduce someone to the basics of Jesus’ ministry, Luke 6 would be a wonderful place to begin. It begins with conflict between Jesus and the religious officials as Jesus and the disciples pluck grain on the Sabbath and Jesus performs a healing on the Sabbath. This is followed by what we call the Sermon on the Plain, which includes the beatitudes, as well as many of the most famous of Jesus’ sayings, including: love your enemies, turn the other cheek, do unto others as you would have them do unto you, do not judge and you will not be judged, the blind leading the blind, why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye but do not notice the log in your own eye?, no good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit. The chapter ends with the story of the man who built his house upon a rock.
Today we observe All Saints Day, so it is fitting that we think about what it means to be a saint. There are many ways to think about sainthood. I agree with Martin Luther, who said that we are all simultaneously sinners and saints, but I want to dig past the philosophical or theological idea of sainthood today by taking a closer look at what has been called the Sermon on the Plain. Let’s start with the word sermon, which is defined as:
a talk on a religious or moral subject, especially one given during a church service and based on a passage from the Bible, or a long or tedious piece of admonition or reproof; a lecture. Jesus has just chosen the 12 apostles. Here is how Luke sets the scene: He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.
Jesus doesn’t stop working, find a pulpit and begin lecturing. He looks up at the disciples as the power to heal radiates out from him, indiscriminately healing all that have come. He begins with the blessings for the poor, the hungry, those who weep, and those who are hated, excluded, reviled, and defamed on his account. The word “blessed” translates into something closer to “satisfied” than the word that we think of as blessed today. Jesus isn’t talking about some abstract reward in the hereafter, but about what is going on all around him and in front of the newly minted apostles. Then we have the woes for the rich, those who are full, those who laugh, and those about whom others speak well. The word “woe” is set in opposition to “blessed,” but it doesn’t mean “cursed” or “damned.” It is more of an attention getter, like “yikes.” Jesus is warning those who feel comfortable to look out -- again not for an eventual retribution in the afterlife, but for what they are missing in the here and now. It takes some time and effort to let this message sink in. Like those who first heard Jesus, we tend to identify those blessed by God by what they have, not by what they lack. “Counting our Blessings” entails listing all of the good things that we have -- family, friends, health, home and the like.
Keep in mind that this is the first lesson that Jesus gives the twelve -- the lesson that following Him does not correspond with earthly prosperity -- but it is not a simple lesson. The blessings and woes are not a list of winners and losers. Just as we are all sinners and saints, aren’t we also all rich and poor, hungry and fed, happy and sad, and praised and criticized? One of the lines that jumped out at me as I prepared this sermon was, “There are, undoubtedly, people in any congregation who are suffering, usually in secret. However, many in the congregation are not suffering, and in North America the congregation as a whole seldom suffers collectively.” Luke’s Jesus is asking us to open our eyes to suffering, to admit our own inadequacies and, more importantly, to be aware of the suffering that surrounds us. Jesus’ message is not advice from on high, it is an invitation to join Jesus as he stands among the grieving, the poor and the hungry. Instead of asking them to memorize his teachings, Jesus invites the disciples to learn by doing. What a relief it is for us that we don’t need to try to be saints in the sense that we need to avoid sin and sinners, we don’t need to carry Jesus with us out into the world, we don’t need to be able to explain Jesus to those who don’t know him. Our only responsibility is to follow Jesus into the crowd of suffering and hope. AMEN
Today we observe All Saints Day, so it is fitting that we think about what it means to be a saint. There are many ways to think about sainthood. I agree with Martin Luther, who said that we are all simultaneously sinners and saints, but I want to dig past the philosophical or theological idea of sainthood today by taking a closer look at what has been called the Sermon on the Plain. Let’s start with the word sermon, which is defined as:
a talk on a religious or moral subject, especially one given during a church service and based on a passage from the Bible, or a long or tedious piece of admonition or reproof; a lecture. Jesus has just chosen the 12 apostles. Here is how Luke sets the scene: He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.
Jesus doesn’t stop working, find a pulpit and begin lecturing. He looks up at the disciples as the power to heal radiates out from him, indiscriminately healing all that have come. He begins with the blessings for the poor, the hungry, those who weep, and those who are hated, excluded, reviled, and defamed on his account. The word “blessed” translates into something closer to “satisfied” than the word that we think of as blessed today. Jesus isn’t talking about some abstract reward in the hereafter, but about what is going on all around him and in front of the newly minted apostles. Then we have the woes for the rich, those who are full, those who laugh, and those about whom others speak well. The word “woe” is set in opposition to “blessed,” but it doesn’t mean “cursed” or “damned.” It is more of an attention getter, like “yikes.” Jesus is warning those who feel comfortable to look out -- again not for an eventual retribution in the afterlife, but for what they are missing in the here and now. It takes some time and effort to let this message sink in. Like those who first heard Jesus, we tend to identify those blessed by God by what they have, not by what they lack. “Counting our Blessings” entails listing all of the good things that we have -- family, friends, health, home and the like.
Keep in mind that this is the first lesson that Jesus gives the twelve -- the lesson that following Him does not correspond with earthly prosperity -- but it is not a simple lesson. The blessings and woes are not a list of winners and losers. Just as we are all sinners and saints, aren’t we also all rich and poor, hungry and fed, happy and sad, and praised and criticized? One of the lines that jumped out at me as I prepared this sermon was, “There are, undoubtedly, people in any congregation who are suffering, usually in secret. However, many in the congregation are not suffering, and in North America the congregation as a whole seldom suffers collectively.” Luke’s Jesus is asking us to open our eyes to suffering, to admit our own inadequacies and, more importantly, to be aware of the suffering that surrounds us. Jesus’ message is not advice from on high, it is an invitation to join Jesus as he stands among the grieving, the poor and the hungry. Instead of asking them to memorize his teachings, Jesus invites the disciples to learn by doing. What a relief it is for us that we don’t need to try to be saints in the sense that we need to avoid sin and sinners, we don’t need to carry Jesus with us out into the world, we don’t need to be able to explain Jesus to those who don’t know him. Our only responsibility is to follow Jesus into the crowd of suffering and hope. AMEN
If you didn’t know that today was a special day, the red paraments should have tipped you off. It is Reformation Sunday, so the church and I are dressed in red -- the color of blood and fire -- to honor the martyrs of the church and the Holy Spirit. We don’t talk much about martyrs in the Lutheran church, but martyrdom was a key part of the Protestant Reformation that we observe today. According to Dr. Jack Kilcrease, “Throughout the early Church one of the main ways that people testified to their faith was through suffering and death at the hands of the Romans. In doing this, they imitated the supreme martyr, their Lord and master, Jesus. For many, the death of the martyr served as an important confirmation of the Christian faith, since the apostles and other later Christians proved the power and sincerity of their witness to Jesus by being willing to die for it.” At the time of the Reformation, speaking against the church was punishable by death. Again, according to Dr. Kilcrease, “Unlike in modern America and Western Europe, it was believed in the sixteenth century that a nation could not remain united without a common religion. This is because religion was not considered to be a mere private or subjective opinion. Rather, religion was understood to constitute a way of life and a key basis for the political order.” If Martin Luther had not had powerful friends, he would have been burned at the stake as a heretic. As it was, several of his students who chose to spread his teachings were martyred. Simply possessing Luther’s writings was punishable by death. These are the martyrs who we honor today: men who gave their lives for their belief so that others would come to believe.
Enough with the history lesson. What does the Reformation mean to us here and now? Oddly enough, the answer lies in the scriptures. In the Gospel reading, Jesus says, "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." Jesus is the word made flesh, the fulfillment of the covenant that Jeremiah spoke of: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” Through the psalmist, we hear, “Be still and know that I am God.” and from Paul’s letter to the Romans we learn that, “there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith."
As Luther would ask, what does this mean? We are all captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. We are all powerless to save ourselves. There is no merit in being “pretty good,” “good enough,” or “better than average.” The first step is admitting this, and it is a doozy! In Freedom of a Christian, Luther said that, “One thing and one thing only is necessary for Christian life, righteousness and freedom. That one thing is the most holy Word of God, the gospel of Christ. The very highest worship of God is this: that we ascribe to him truthfulness, righteousness, and whatever else should be ascribed to one who is trusted. On the other hand, what greater rebellion against God, what greater wickedness, what greater contempt of God is there than not believing his promise?” It does us no good to talk about belief based on some vague understanding of a higher power who has a plan that we can’t understand and rules that we cannot possibly follow. We are asked simply to believe and to trust that God is who God says God is.
What does that look like? It means that Christ’s victory over death is our victory over death. As Luther said, “ Surely we are named after Christ, not because he is absent from us, but because he dwells in us, that is, because we believe in him and are Christs one to another and do to our neighbors as Christ does to us. We conclude, therefore, that a Christian lives not in himself, but in Christ and in his neighbor. Otherwise he is not a Christian. He lives in Christ through faith, in his neighbor through love. By faith he is caught up beyond himself into God. By love he descends beneath himself into his neighbor. Yet he always remains in God and in his love… ” We have been reformed in Christ’s image! AMEN
Enough with the history lesson. What does the Reformation mean to us here and now? Oddly enough, the answer lies in the scriptures. In the Gospel reading, Jesus says, "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." Jesus is the word made flesh, the fulfillment of the covenant that Jeremiah spoke of: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” Through the psalmist, we hear, “Be still and know that I am God.” and from Paul’s letter to the Romans we learn that, “there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith."
As Luther would ask, what does this mean? We are all captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. We are all powerless to save ourselves. There is no merit in being “pretty good,” “good enough,” or “better than average.” The first step is admitting this, and it is a doozy! In Freedom of a Christian, Luther said that, “One thing and one thing only is necessary for Christian life, righteousness and freedom. That one thing is the most holy Word of God, the gospel of Christ. The very highest worship of God is this: that we ascribe to him truthfulness, righteousness, and whatever else should be ascribed to one who is trusted. On the other hand, what greater rebellion against God, what greater wickedness, what greater contempt of God is there than not believing his promise?” It does us no good to talk about belief based on some vague understanding of a higher power who has a plan that we can’t understand and rules that we cannot possibly follow. We are asked simply to believe and to trust that God is who God says God is.
What does that look like? It means that Christ’s victory over death is our victory over death. As Luther said, “ Surely we are named after Christ, not because he is absent from us, but because he dwells in us, that is, because we believe in him and are Christs one to another and do to our neighbors as Christ does to us. We conclude, therefore, that a Christian lives not in himself, but in Christ and in his neighbor. Otherwise he is not a Christian. He lives in Christ through faith, in his neighbor through love. By faith he is caught up beyond himself into God. By love he descends beneath himself into his neighbor. Yet he always remains in God and in his love… ” We have been reformed in Christ’s image! AMEN
I don’t feel as if I am on totally firm footing today. Instead of observing the sixteenth Sunday of Pentecost, we are celebrating Michaelmas. Instead of preaching on the Gospel, I will be talking about the reading from Revelation -- a reading that just might contain the entire history of the struggle between Good and Evil.
When we looked at this text in confirmation, one of the things that stood out was the first line -- “There was a war in heaven.” For most of us, heaven is a peaceful place, and I had never really thought of the history of heaven. This war explains what went on in the Garden of Eden. God creates everything and declares it good. Satan (which means adversary) has been thrown out of heaven, so he is directing his energy toward fighting God on earth. The idea that the New Testament model, the devil (which means deceiver) is engaged in a race with Jesus to destroy what Jesus comes to save and that he/it is desperately working to ruin us before Christ returns makes a certain sense too, but it also opens the idea that Revelation 12 isn’t simply an account of ancient history -- it might be a prediction of the future or even something ongoing.
How does it change our understanding if we view the war in heaven as a future event? Has Satan already been barred from heaven or can he/it move back and forth? Is Hell a current reality or the future dwelling place of Satan? Who or what will cause the war? Will it be a last-gasp effort by the forces of evil, the final housekeeping before the return of Christ, or is it somehow connected to the idea of the rapture and the tribulations? For that matter, is there anybody in heaven or hell yet? Is there any connection between the angels, the saints and martyrs, and humanity? Most of those questions remain in play if we think of the war in heaven as ongoing.
The one thing that seems certain is that the forces of God will be victorious: “But they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb.” through the work of Jesus. So what does the defeat and fall of Satan mean to us? Does the story of Lucifer, the morning star, the most powerful of angels, being cast out because of pride serve only as a cautionary tale against pridefulness? Have we created the Devil to give ourselves an excuse to sin? Is the Devil the ruler of the earth while God waits patiently in heaven to reward those of us who weather the storm?
I don’t know if the devil is real, but I am quite sure that evil is. I also believe that evil is a tireless and opportunistic force that can be found anywhere and everywhere on earth -- lurking, waiting for the chance to turn us against one another, to convince us to indulge our own wishes without loving our neighbors, to thwart the will of God. So where is my hope? My favorite theologian, William Barclay, said that “ No man can be used -- either by God or by Satan -- without his consent.” In spite of the old saying, the devil can’t make us do anything. The free will that we have been given by our creator includes the ability to choose not to do evil.
The old cartoon picture of an undecided person with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other contains a great deal of truth. I cannot accept the reduction of the angel to what we might call conscience and the reduction of the devil to simply following our evil impulses. Instead, I see both as a feeble attempt by small human brains to understand the concepts fundamental to the battle between good and evil. It is, quite simply, the best we can do. AMEN
When we looked at this text in confirmation, one of the things that stood out was the first line -- “There was a war in heaven.” For most of us, heaven is a peaceful place, and I had never really thought of the history of heaven. This war explains what went on in the Garden of Eden. God creates everything and declares it good. Satan (which means adversary) has been thrown out of heaven, so he is directing his energy toward fighting God on earth. The idea that the New Testament model, the devil (which means deceiver) is engaged in a race with Jesus to destroy what Jesus comes to save and that he/it is desperately working to ruin us before Christ returns makes a certain sense too, but it also opens the idea that Revelation 12 isn’t simply an account of ancient history -- it might be a prediction of the future or even something ongoing.
How does it change our understanding if we view the war in heaven as a future event? Has Satan already been barred from heaven or can he/it move back and forth? Is Hell a current reality or the future dwelling place of Satan? Who or what will cause the war? Will it be a last-gasp effort by the forces of evil, the final housekeeping before the return of Christ, or is it somehow connected to the idea of the rapture and the tribulations? For that matter, is there anybody in heaven or hell yet? Is there any connection between the angels, the saints and martyrs, and humanity? Most of those questions remain in play if we think of the war in heaven as ongoing.
The one thing that seems certain is that the forces of God will be victorious: “But they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb.” through the work of Jesus. So what does the defeat and fall of Satan mean to us? Does the story of Lucifer, the morning star, the most powerful of angels, being cast out because of pride serve only as a cautionary tale against pridefulness? Have we created the Devil to give ourselves an excuse to sin? Is the Devil the ruler of the earth while God waits patiently in heaven to reward those of us who weather the storm?
I don’t know if the devil is real, but I am quite sure that evil is. I also believe that evil is a tireless and opportunistic force that can be found anywhere and everywhere on earth -- lurking, waiting for the chance to turn us against one another, to convince us to indulge our own wishes without loving our neighbors, to thwart the will of God. So where is my hope? My favorite theologian, William Barclay, said that “ No man can be used -- either by God or by Satan -- without his consent.” In spite of the old saying, the devil can’t make us do anything. The free will that we have been given by our creator includes the ability to choose not to do evil.
The old cartoon picture of an undecided person with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other contains a great deal of truth. I cannot accept the reduction of the angel to what we might call conscience and the reduction of the devil to simply following our evil impulses. Instead, I see both as a feeble attempt by small human brains to understand the concepts fundamental to the battle between good and evil. It is, quite simply, the best we can do. AMEN
I plan to use the readings from the lectionary as our Bible studies at confirmation this year. Once I read today’s Gospel lesson, I immediately decided to delay that plan by at least a week. The first difficulty with this parable is in following the story. Let’s start with the title: is the manager crooked, dishonest or shrewd? We know that he works for a rich man, but we aren’t sure if he is a slave or some other sort of underling. We know that the rich man is rich, but we don’t know if he became so honestly or dishonestly; was he a land-owner, a money-lender, or something else entirely? We know that the manager has been accused of squandering, but we don’t know by whom or with what evidence. We can understand why the manager would be fired, but why would the rich man ask him for an accounting of his own dishonesty? We know that he cuts the debts of at least two debtors by fifty and twenty percent, but we aren’t sure if the discount represents an amount that the steward was planning to skim from the transaction, illegal taxes that were charged by the rich man, or if they actually were a reduction of the agreed-upon price. We don’t know if the original charges were reasonable or unreasonable. It isn’t confusing when the debtors agree to the discount, but it is puzzling when the master commends the manager for acting shrewdly. We are really floored when Jesus says, “make friends for yourself through dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.
C. H. Dodd observed that even Luke seems clueless as to what to do with the parable, providing at least three interpretations at the parable's conclusion: (1) that the children of light should learn from the prudence of their corrupt neighbors; (2) to make friends by means of dishonest wealth; and (3) that if one wishes to be entrusted with true riches, one must demonstrate honesty with ordinary wealth. Even if we choose one of the lessons, we are still stuck with the fact that Jesus seems to be praising dishonest actions by a dishonest man with wealth that was likely dishonestly gained. We end with the famous line, “you cannot serve God and wealth.”
As you might imagine, interpretations of this parable and the accompanying sayings are all over the place. It might be most important to deal with our discomfort with the dishonest or shrewd manager as the apparent hero of the story. As I get older, I can easily identify with the sentiment, “I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg.” I also wonder if our problem with the parable is that it interferes with our visions of Jesus with clean fingernails and a blindingly clean robe or our picture of the church as somehow above the tawdriness of business. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “we often prefer our own goodness to doing God’s will.”
If we can get past that, this parable can be seen as a call to action. Think of what people are willing to do to get and keep money and material possessions. If we believe that the Kingdom of God is worth more than all the treasures in the world, what should we be willing to do to further its coming? Admitting that we cannot serve both God and money (or, more accurately, mammon, which includes all material things) doesn’t mean that we have to forsake money; it means that we need to get our priorities straight and view ourselves as not owners but stewards of what we have. It is perfectly fine for us to aggressively pursue wealth as long as we put it to good use. We are not required to be Minnesota Lutheran nice. AMEN
C. H. Dodd observed that even Luke seems clueless as to what to do with the parable, providing at least three interpretations at the parable's conclusion: (1) that the children of light should learn from the prudence of their corrupt neighbors; (2) to make friends by means of dishonest wealth; and (3) that if one wishes to be entrusted with true riches, one must demonstrate honesty with ordinary wealth. Even if we choose one of the lessons, we are still stuck with the fact that Jesus seems to be praising dishonest actions by a dishonest man with wealth that was likely dishonestly gained. We end with the famous line, “you cannot serve God and wealth.”
As you might imagine, interpretations of this parable and the accompanying sayings are all over the place. It might be most important to deal with our discomfort with the dishonest or shrewd manager as the apparent hero of the story. As I get older, I can easily identify with the sentiment, “I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg.” I also wonder if our problem with the parable is that it interferes with our visions of Jesus with clean fingernails and a blindingly clean robe or our picture of the church as somehow above the tawdriness of business. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “we often prefer our own goodness to doing God’s will.”
If we can get past that, this parable can be seen as a call to action. Think of what people are willing to do to get and keep money and material possessions. If we believe that the Kingdom of God is worth more than all the treasures in the world, what should we be willing to do to further its coming? Admitting that we cannot serve both God and money (or, more accurately, mammon, which includes all material things) doesn’t mean that we have to forsake money; it means that we need to get our priorities straight and view ourselves as not owners but stewards of what we have. It is perfectly fine for us to aggressively pursue wealth as long as we put it to good use. We are not required to be Minnesota Lutheran nice. AMEN
One of my favorite things about Jesus is his propensity for answering a question with a story. The stories and parables that Jesus told weren’t the kind that some “experts” favor -- stories that are told to glorify the teller. Jesus knew that helping people develop understanding is much more effective than simply giving them answers. The message of a story is rich because each listener hears the story in a unique way, regardless of the intent of the storyteller. That is why it is important to not only react to biblical parables, but to look at the original setting and context as well.
Today’s parables aren’t a response to a spoken question. We can’t even be sure if Jesus is speaking to the grumbling Pharisees and scribes or the tax collectors and sinners who are coming near to listen to him. For that matter, we aren’t even sure what attracts the tax collectors and sinners to Jesus. We do know that Jesus eats with them, so we could be cynical and say that these lowlifes are turning up for a free meal. The primary concern for the Pharisees wouldn’t have been the motivation of the sinners; Luke and the Pharisees would have divided the world into those who sinned regularly and were in need of repentance and those who were righteous and did not need to repent. They likely felt that those with whom Jesus was dining were beyond hope. I imagine Jesus as directing his words to one group while speaking loudly enough that the other group was sure to overhear. Imagine how differently the two groups would have heard the story -- the sinners rejoicing at being told that they have value and the Pharisees having their worst fears confirmed -- this Jesus fellow simply wouldn’t listen to reason, quit wasting his time on the irredeemable, and focus on the righteous.
The most interesting part of these parables is that they don’t really make sense. Jesus asks, "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” I imagine that several of the listeners were tempted to raise their hands. It makes absolutely no sense to leave the 99 undefended in order to pursue the one. I understand that the shepherd was accountable for each and every sheep, even obligated to provide bloody remains to prove that a sheep had been killed, but doesn’t it make more sense to lose one than to risk 99? The response to the finding, both of the sheep and the coin, is also out of proportion. I can understand being excited, even to the point of needing to tell someone, about finding what was lost, but gathering all the neighbors and throwing a party?
And then there is the payoff -- the moral of the story -- “Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” How does that fit the story? It is obvious that neither sheep nor a coins can repent. If the parables are meant to teach the sinners and tax collectors the importance of repentance, why doesn’t Jesus make it clear to them that they are lost? In fact, in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus seeks to bring sinners to repentance , but not once does Jesus actually scold or correct a sinner. Instead, he eats with them. Four times Luke reports meals in which Jesus receives criticism for his relationship with sinners, but Jesus never once comments on the sinners' behavior. Instead, he shares table fellowship with them. To the Pharisees, and probably to many of us today, it seems like Jesus is endorsing bad behaviour by not only failing to point it out but also rewarding it by treating the sinners as equals.
Barclay sees it differently: “There is a wondrous thought here; the tremendous truth that God is kinder than men. The orthodox would write off the tax collectors and the sinners as being beyond the pale, and as deserving of nothing but destruction. Not so God. Men may give up hope of a sinner. Not so God. God loves the folk who never stay away; but in His heart there is the joy of joys when one lost one is found and comes home; and it would be a thousand times easier to come back to God than to come home to the bleak criticism of men.” He concludes, “The joy of finding is so abundant that it cannot be contained; one person alone cannot adequately celebrate it; there must be a party to which others are invited… This joy, elaborated more full in the next parable, is the heart of the gospel.” What if that was how we viewed church -- as a celebration, a party to observe that we have been found and saved that increases in intensity with each new salvation? AMEN
Today’s parables aren’t a response to a spoken question. We can’t even be sure if Jesus is speaking to the grumbling Pharisees and scribes or the tax collectors and sinners who are coming near to listen to him. For that matter, we aren’t even sure what attracts the tax collectors and sinners to Jesus. We do know that Jesus eats with them, so we could be cynical and say that these lowlifes are turning up for a free meal. The primary concern for the Pharisees wouldn’t have been the motivation of the sinners; Luke and the Pharisees would have divided the world into those who sinned regularly and were in need of repentance and those who were righteous and did not need to repent. They likely felt that those with whom Jesus was dining were beyond hope. I imagine Jesus as directing his words to one group while speaking loudly enough that the other group was sure to overhear. Imagine how differently the two groups would have heard the story -- the sinners rejoicing at being told that they have value and the Pharisees having their worst fears confirmed -- this Jesus fellow simply wouldn’t listen to reason, quit wasting his time on the irredeemable, and focus on the righteous.
The most interesting part of these parables is that they don’t really make sense. Jesus asks, "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” I imagine that several of the listeners were tempted to raise their hands. It makes absolutely no sense to leave the 99 undefended in order to pursue the one. I understand that the shepherd was accountable for each and every sheep, even obligated to provide bloody remains to prove that a sheep had been killed, but doesn’t it make more sense to lose one than to risk 99? The response to the finding, both of the sheep and the coin, is also out of proportion. I can understand being excited, even to the point of needing to tell someone, about finding what was lost, but gathering all the neighbors and throwing a party?
And then there is the payoff -- the moral of the story -- “Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” How does that fit the story? It is obvious that neither sheep nor a coins can repent. If the parables are meant to teach the sinners and tax collectors the importance of repentance, why doesn’t Jesus make it clear to them that they are lost? In fact, in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus seeks to bring sinners to repentance , but not once does Jesus actually scold or correct a sinner. Instead, he eats with them. Four times Luke reports meals in which Jesus receives criticism for his relationship with sinners, but Jesus never once comments on the sinners' behavior. Instead, he shares table fellowship with them. To the Pharisees, and probably to many of us today, it seems like Jesus is endorsing bad behaviour by not only failing to point it out but also rewarding it by treating the sinners as equals.
Barclay sees it differently: “There is a wondrous thought here; the tremendous truth that God is kinder than men. The orthodox would write off the tax collectors and the sinners as being beyond the pale, and as deserving of nothing but destruction. Not so God. Men may give up hope of a sinner. Not so God. God loves the folk who never stay away; but in His heart there is the joy of joys when one lost one is found and comes home; and it would be a thousand times easier to come back to God than to come home to the bleak criticism of men.” He concludes, “The joy of finding is so abundant that it cannot be contained; one person alone cannot adequately celebrate it; there must be a party to which others are invited… This joy, elaborated more full in the next parable, is the heart of the gospel.” What if that was how we viewed church -- as a celebration, a party to observe that we have been found and saved that increases in intensity with each new salvation? AMEN
I don’t think that there is any question that the key word in today’s Gospel reading is “hate” -- especially when it is directed toward family. How can Jesus, whose message to his disciples is to “love one another as I have first loved you,” possibly tell us to hate anything other than evil, Satan and sin? While it would be dangerous to take these words literally without taking the time to think about them, it could also be harmful to simply dismiss them as a faulty interpretation or misunderstanding. My preaching professor told us that the scriptures that made us uncomfortable were the ones that it was most important to preach on, and I believe that we can all benefit from spending time with texts that we find troubling.
Let’s start at the beginning: Jesus has attracted large crowds. He is addressing the entire crowd, not just the disciples. Why were the crowds following Jesus? As I have discussed before, there were a variety of reasons including simple curiosity, a desire to be healed, the hope that Jesus would reveal himself to be a fraud, or the desire for a free meal. There were also those who believed that Jesus was the Messiah in the sense that he would overthrow the Roman government and restore the people of Israel to their rightful place. We know that even the disciples were unable to understand that Jesus was heading for the cross, so it is unlikely that others in the crowd would grasp His true purpose. It is possible that Jesus used such strong language to discourage those who were following him without understanding why.
Jesus’ first line, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” is the hardest for us to hear. Most likely, the word “hate” as Jesus used it didn’t carry the emotional freight that it does today. Instead, it would have meant to put one thing in a lower position than another; the only way to discipleship is to put God ahead of family and life itself. This is easier to hear, but still tremendously difficult. In many ways, family is what makes life worth living. It makes it easier for me if I think of my life and my family as gifts from God. I know that it is possible to love a gift without loving the giver, but if I trust God to care for me and for my family, that seems like a way of putting God first.
The next challenge, ”Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” is easy to misinterpret. We have come to see “having our own cross to bear” as meaning that we all have our burdens in life (as if they compare to Jesus’ sacrifice or to the literal carrying of a cross by the condemned to their own crucifixions!). The crowd would have understood that he was speaking of death. With no uncertain sound, Jesus is calling the people to follow him even unto their deaths.
Jesus concludes, “So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” My favorite explanation of this comes from John MacArthur, who said, “It's not calling for you to sell your house, sell your car, sell all your possessions in your house and go out on the street and beg. That's not what it's saying. What it's calling for is this. You become a steward of everything and an owner of nothing.” For me, this circles back to include all of the commands. Nothing in this life truly belongs to me. Being a Christian doesn’t mean that I have added Christ to my life, but that I have given my life to Christ. When it works, and it is a daily struggle, it gives me perfect freedom. Jesus may have been trying to thin out the crowds -- to discourage those whose commitment was lacking, but he is also encouraging us to let go of what holds us back and to live fully in faith. AMEN
Let’s start at the beginning: Jesus has attracted large crowds. He is addressing the entire crowd, not just the disciples. Why were the crowds following Jesus? As I have discussed before, there were a variety of reasons including simple curiosity, a desire to be healed, the hope that Jesus would reveal himself to be a fraud, or the desire for a free meal. There were also those who believed that Jesus was the Messiah in the sense that he would overthrow the Roman government and restore the people of Israel to their rightful place. We know that even the disciples were unable to understand that Jesus was heading for the cross, so it is unlikely that others in the crowd would grasp His true purpose. It is possible that Jesus used such strong language to discourage those who were following him without understanding why.
Jesus’ first line, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” is the hardest for us to hear. Most likely, the word “hate” as Jesus used it didn’t carry the emotional freight that it does today. Instead, it would have meant to put one thing in a lower position than another; the only way to discipleship is to put God ahead of family and life itself. This is easier to hear, but still tremendously difficult. In many ways, family is what makes life worth living. It makes it easier for me if I think of my life and my family as gifts from God. I know that it is possible to love a gift without loving the giver, but if I trust God to care for me and for my family, that seems like a way of putting God first.
The next challenge, ”Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” is easy to misinterpret. We have come to see “having our own cross to bear” as meaning that we all have our burdens in life (as if they compare to Jesus’ sacrifice or to the literal carrying of a cross by the condemned to their own crucifixions!). The crowd would have understood that he was speaking of death. With no uncertain sound, Jesus is calling the people to follow him even unto their deaths.
Jesus concludes, “So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” My favorite explanation of this comes from John MacArthur, who said, “It's not calling for you to sell your house, sell your car, sell all your possessions in your house and go out on the street and beg. That's not what it's saying. What it's calling for is this. You become a steward of everything and an owner of nothing.” For me, this circles back to include all of the commands. Nothing in this life truly belongs to me. Being a Christian doesn’t mean that I have added Christ to my life, but that I have given my life to Christ. When it works, and it is a daily struggle, it gives me perfect freedom. Jesus may have been trying to thin out the crowds -- to discourage those whose commitment was lacking, but he is also encouraging us to let go of what holds us back and to live fully in faith. AMEN
Luke 14:1-24
1 On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. 2 Just then, in front of him, there was a man who had dropsy. 3 And Jesus asked the lawyers and Pharisees, “Is it lawful to cure people on the sabbath, or not?” 4 But they were silent. So Jesus took him and healed him, and sent him away. 5 Then he said to them, “If one of you has a child or an ox that has fallen into a well, will you not immediately pull it out on a sabbath day?” 6 And they could not reply to this.
This is not a simple dinner invitation. The host is a high church official, so this meal is a gathering of high-status people -- the kind of event that separated the common folk from the movers and shakers. So why was Jesus invited -- especially by the Pharisees? Throughout the Gospels, the Pharisees are portrayed as sticklers for the rules who are too tightly-wound to accept Jesus, but just prior to this scene several of them had warned Jesus of a plot against him. We know that they are watching Jesus closely and likely testing him. I’ll bet that if you asked them, they would tell you that they were doing it for his own good. This young rabbi was clearly a prophetic voice, a gifted healer, and a source of inspiration to many, but he refused to listen to reason. Instead of enlisting the help of the establishment, he was wasting his gifts on those who could do nothing for him and putting himself in danger. His ministry was clearly not sustainable. Yes, there were elements of fear and jealousy in the actions of the Pharisees, but we should not judge them too harshly for trying to reign Jesus in. Why did Jesus accept the invitation when he likely knew that it was a setup? It is important to note that Jesus didn’t find it necessary to exclude the rich and powerful in order to include the poor and sick. In healing the man with dropsy, Jesus shows his serenity. He doesn’t become irritable or lose his nerve. He again attempts to explain that any condition that keeps one from freedom, from fullness of life, can and should properly be addressed on the Sabbath.
7 When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9 and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11 For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
I picture Jesus chuckling as he watches the most important men in the city scrambling for the best spots at the table, revealing their insecurity. I am reminded of the middle-school lunchroom where we became acutely aware of our social status as we clutched our trays and hoped for a welcome. The same thing sometimes happens at wedding receptions when seats are not reserved and I hope to catch a friendly glance so that I know where to sit. Jesus isn’t just giving etiquette advice here; he is telling the glitterati and us that those who build themselves in the eyes of the world are headed for a fall, while the humble will be elevated. The value of humility isn’t much appreciated in our culture, but it is essential for two reasons: we can never learn anything unless we admit that we don’t know it all, and admitting that we need God is the first step in establishing real faith. How can we become more humble? Barclay has several suggestions: First of all, we can remind ourselves of how vulnerable we really are -- how quickly our strength, health, and mental faculties can abandon us. Secondly, we can be honest about the smallness of our accomplishments and how small our sphere of influence really is. Third, we can realize how little we really know in light of how much we don’t know. Even the most brilliant and learned are motivated by the scope of what is yet to be learned. Finally, we should be humbled by how little goodness we actually possess. Sure, we might look good if we set a low enough standard, but we are to measure ourselves against the goodness of God.
12 He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. 13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. 14 And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
Jesus is not simply calling on Christians to provide for the needs of the poor and disabled. He tells the host to invite them to dinner -- to provide hospitality. He does not direct us to simply send food to “the other,” but to sit at the table with them, accepting them as equals. We are called to break bread together. In the Kingdom of God, no one is a “project.”
15 One of the dinner guests, on hearing this, said to him, “Blessed is anyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” 16 Then Jesus said to him, “Someone gave a great dinner and invited many. 17 At the time for the dinner he sent his slave to say to those who had been invited, ‘Come; for everything is ready now.’ 18 But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said to him, ‘I have bought a piece of land, and I must go out and see it; please accept my regrets.’ 19 Another said, ‘I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I am going to try them out; please accept my regrets.’ 20 Another said, ‘I have just been married, and therefore I cannot come.’ 21 So the slave returned and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and said to his slave, ‘Go out at once into the streets and lanes of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame.’ 22 And the slave said, ‘Sir, what you ordered has been done, and there is still room.’ 23 Then the master said to the slave, ‘Go out into the roads and lanes, and compel people to come in, so that my house may be filled. 24 For I tell you, none of those who were invited will taste my dinner.’”
Jesus has just finished telling the host that none of his guests belong at the table and that they should be replaced by poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. Talk about an awkward moment! One of the guests tries to smooth things over with the platitude, “Blessed is anyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” Jesus follows with another tale of radical hospitality. It was common for guests to accept invitations before the time and date of a banquet had been set. At first reading, I was reminded of how I sometimes agree to things and then grumble about them, only to enjoy them once I get there. In this case, the reasons are all valid, involving security, prestige and family. We are all forced to make decisions on how to budget our time, and sometimes we have to choose from among multiple “good” things. Jesus is warning us that clinging on to what is simply “good” might keep us from pursuing what is “best,” the Kingdom of God. As the story concludes, the man who triggered it must be stunned. He began the meal believing not only that he had a secure place at this table, but also at the messianic banquet in God’s kingdom. However, when he looks over the guests in Jesus’ story, he sees neither himself nor anyone from his circle of friends.
While it is not a productive use of our time to analyze these stories to determine who will be in and who will be out at the great feast in the sky. As Lutherans, we believe that it is only through the grace of God that we will enter the Kingdom. Regardless, what we do with our lives matters. Since all that we have comes from God, we are all guests and not hosts at the table, and we need to expand the guest list as much as possible. As the second lesson reminds us, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” AMEN
1 On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. 2 Just then, in front of him, there was a man who had dropsy. 3 And Jesus asked the lawyers and Pharisees, “Is it lawful to cure people on the sabbath, or not?” 4 But they were silent. So Jesus took him and healed him, and sent him away. 5 Then he said to them, “If one of you has a child or an ox that has fallen into a well, will you not immediately pull it out on a sabbath day?” 6 And they could not reply to this.
This is not a simple dinner invitation. The host is a high church official, so this meal is a gathering of high-status people -- the kind of event that separated the common folk from the movers and shakers. So why was Jesus invited -- especially by the Pharisees? Throughout the Gospels, the Pharisees are portrayed as sticklers for the rules who are too tightly-wound to accept Jesus, but just prior to this scene several of them had warned Jesus of a plot against him. We know that they are watching Jesus closely and likely testing him. I’ll bet that if you asked them, they would tell you that they were doing it for his own good. This young rabbi was clearly a prophetic voice, a gifted healer, and a source of inspiration to many, but he refused to listen to reason. Instead of enlisting the help of the establishment, he was wasting his gifts on those who could do nothing for him and putting himself in danger. His ministry was clearly not sustainable. Yes, there were elements of fear and jealousy in the actions of the Pharisees, but we should not judge them too harshly for trying to reign Jesus in. Why did Jesus accept the invitation when he likely knew that it was a setup? It is important to note that Jesus didn’t find it necessary to exclude the rich and powerful in order to include the poor and sick. In healing the man with dropsy, Jesus shows his serenity. He doesn’t become irritable or lose his nerve. He again attempts to explain that any condition that keeps one from freedom, from fullness of life, can and should properly be addressed on the Sabbath.
7 When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9 and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11 For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
I picture Jesus chuckling as he watches the most important men in the city scrambling for the best spots at the table, revealing their insecurity. I am reminded of the middle-school lunchroom where we became acutely aware of our social status as we clutched our trays and hoped for a welcome. The same thing sometimes happens at wedding receptions when seats are not reserved and I hope to catch a friendly glance so that I know where to sit. Jesus isn’t just giving etiquette advice here; he is telling the glitterati and us that those who build themselves in the eyes of the world are headed for a fall, while the humble will be elevated. The value of humility isn’t much appreciated in our culture, but it is essential for two reasons: we can never learn anything unless we admit that we don’t know it all, and admitting that we need God is the first step in establishing real faith. How can we become more humble? Barclay has several suggestions: First of all, we can remind ourselves of how vulnerable we really are -- how quickly our strength, health, and mental faculties can abandon us. Secondly, we can be honest about the smallness of our accomplishments and how small our sphere of influence really is. Third, we can realize how little we really know in light of how much we don’t know. Even the most brilliant and learned are motivated by the scope of what is yet to be learned. Finally, we should be humbled by how little goodness we actually possess. Sure, we might look good if we set a low enough standard, but we are to measure ourselves against the goodness of God.
12 He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. 13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. 14 And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
Jesus is not simply calling on Christians to provide for the needs of the poor and disabled. He tells the host to invite them to dinner -- to provide hospitality. He does not direct us to simply send food to “the other,” but to sit at the table with them, accepting them as equals. We are called to break bread together. In the Kingdom of God, no one is a “project.”
15 One of the dinner guests, on hearing this, said to him, “Blessed is anyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” 16 Then Jesus said to him, “Someone gave a great dinner and invited many. 17 At the time for the dinner he sent his slave to say to those who had been invited, ‘Come; for everything is ready now.’ 18 But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said to him, ‘I have bought a piece of land, and I must go out and see it; please accept my regrets.’ 19 Another said, ‘I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I am going to try them out; please accept my regrets.’ 20 Another said, ‘I have just been married, and therefore I cannot come.’ 21 So the slave returned and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and said to his slave, ‘Go out at once into the streets and lanes of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame.’ 22 And the slave said, ‘Sir, what you ordered has been done, and there is still room.’ 23 Then the master said to the slave, ‘Go out into the roads and lanes, and compel people to come in, so that my house may be filled. 24 For I tell you, none of those who were invited will taste my dinner.’”
Jesus has just finished telling the host that none of his guests belong at the table and that they should be replaced by poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. Talk about an awkward moment! One of the guests tries to smooth things over with the platitude, “Blessed is anyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” Jesus follows with another tale of radical hospitality. It was common for guests to accept invitations before the time and date of a banquet had been set. At first reading, I was reminded of how I sometimes agree to things and then grumble about them, only to enjoy them once I get there. In this case, the reasons are all valid, involving security, prestige and family. We are all forced to make decisions on how to budget our time, and sometimes we have to choose from among multiple “good” things. Jesus is warning us that clinging on to what is simply “good” might keep us from pursuing what is “best,” the Kingdom of God. As the story concludes, the man who triggered it must be stunned. He began the meal believing not only that he had a secure place at this table, but also at the messianic banquet in God’s kingdom. However, when he looks over the guests in Jesus’ story, he sees neither himself nor anyone from his circle of friends.
While it is not a productive use of our time to analyze these stories to determine who will be in and who will be out at the great feast in the sky. As Lutherans, we believe that it is only through the grace of God that we will enter the Kingdom. Regardless, what we do with our lives matters. Since all that we have comes from God, we are all guests and not hosts at the table, and we need to expand the guest list as much as possible. As the second lesson reminds us, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” AMEN
Today we use the words temple and synagogue interchangeably to describe Jewish places of worship. In the ancient world, there was only one Temple -- the home of God in Jerusalem. When the first temple was destroyed and the Jewish people were scattered during the Babylonian exile, they began to meet in small groups called synagogues to study the Torah and the words of the prophets and to attempt to preserve their Jewish identity. “The synagogue was school, meeting place, courtroom, and place of prayer. In some towns, the synagogue may even have provided lodging for travelers. It was the place where small groups of Jewish students assembled for Scripture reading and discussion of the Torah and oral tradition. This meant that worship and study, friendship and community celebration, and even the governing of the community were all done by the same people in the same place.” Jesus would have begun his education in the local synagogue when he was 5 or 6 by memorizing the Torah. As he got older, he would have studied more complicated oral interpretations of the Torah. As a gifted student, he would have honed his understanding through question-and-answer sessions with the teacher before moving on to secondary school at about the age of 12. There he would have learned to apply the Torah to specific situations. It is likely that Jesus then became a disciple to a respected rabbi. By the age of 30, he would have been considered to have reached his full abilities as a rabbi.
On the Sabbath, the synagogue was where the people met for prayer. The service consisted of several blessings offered to God, readings from the Torah and from the prophets, a short sermon, and a benediction. This is the framework upon which the early Christian church was built. It was in his home synagogue where Jesus read the words, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind,to let the oppressed go free,to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” and gave his first sermon: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
That was Jesus’ first recorded teaching at a synagogue; today’s gospel is his last. This is not his home synagogue, but it most likely is the woman’s. Unlike many of those healed by Jesus, she has not been driven out of the community because of her disability, but it is what has come to define her. The fact that she is bent double keeps her from being able to make eye contact with others, and it probably keeps others from seeing her at all. Of course, Jesus sees her just as he sees all of us in spite of our sins, which he can see as clearly as he saw the woman’s bent back. Although she doesn’t ask, he heals her and she praises God.
The leader of the synagogue is not a religious official; he is simply a senior member of the community, probably some combination of caretaker, congregation president -- perhaps also the teacher. He mostly seems offended that things are being done out of order or outside of his schedule. Jesus quickly dismisses his concerns in a manner befitting a rabbi, and that is what I hope that I have emphasized in this sermon: The work of Jesus was not the destruction or replacement of the Jewish faith, but the fulfillment of it. Jesus was gifted with divine understanding as the Son of God, but he also spent his entire life learning scripture, studying how it applied to a variety of situations, and then applying his understanding as a teacher. Jesus embodied what Luther later described as keeping the Sabbath as honoring the Word of God, preaching and the sacraments.
“… when we seriously ponder the Word, hear it, and put it to use, such is its power that it never departs without fruit. It always awakens new understanding, pleasure, and devotion, and it constantly creates clean hearts and minds. For this Word is not idle or dead, but effective and living. Even if no other benefit or need drove us to the Word, yet everyone should be motivated by the realization that through the Word the devil is cast out and put to flight, this commandment is fulfilled, and God is more pleased than by any hypocrisy, no matter how brilliant.” AMEN
On the Sabbath, the synagogue was where the people met for prayer. The service consisted of several blessings offered to God, readings from the Torah and from the prophets, a short sermon, and a benediction. This is the framework upon which the early Christian church was built. It was in his home synagogue where Jesus read the words, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind,to let the oppressed go free,to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” and gave his first sermon: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
That was Jesus’ first recorded teaching at a synagogue; today’s gospel is his last. This is not his home synagogue, but it most likely is the woman’s. Unlike many of those healed by Jesus, she has not been driven out of the community because of her disability, but it is what has come to define her. The fact that she is bent double keeps her from being able to make eye contact with others, and it probably keeps others from seeing her at all. Of course, Jesus sees her just as he sees all of us in spite of our sins, which he can see as clearly as he saw the woman’s bent back. Although she doesn’t ask, he heals her and she praises God.
The leader of the synagogue is not a religious official; he is simply a senior member of the community, probably some combination of caretaker, congregation president -- perhaps also the teacher. He mostly seems offended that things are being done out of order or outside of his schedule. Jesus quickly dismisses his concerns in a manner befitting a rabbi, and that is what I hope that I have emphasized in this sermon: The work of Jesus was not the destruction or replacement of the Jewish faith, but the fulfillment of it. Jesus was gifted with divine understanding as the Son of God, but he also spent his entire life learning scripture, studying how it applied to a variety of situations, and then applying his understanding as a teacher. Jesus embodied what Luther later described as keeping the Sabbath as honoring the Word of God, preaching and the sacraments.
“… when we seriously ponder the Word, hear it, and put it to use, such is its power that it never departs without fruit. It always awakens new understanding, pleasure, and devotion, and it constantly creates clean hearts and minds. For this Word is not idle or dead, but effective and living. Even if no other benefit or need drove us to the Word, yet everyone should be motivated by the realization that through the Word the devil is cast out and put to flight, this commandment is fulfilled, and God is more pleased than by any hypocrisy, no matter how brilliant.” AMEN
I believe that God speaks to all of us in a variety of ways. I sometimes joke that it is hard to distinguish God’s voice from all of the other voices in my head, but, like with most jokes, there is an element of truth there. God knows that I am not a particularly gifted listener, so sometimes He makes things glaringly obvious. For example, I was recently “tricked” into buying and reading the book, “Dear Church: a love letter from a black preacher to the whitest denomination in the U.S.” A friend asked me if I had read it, but wouldn’t tell me why he was asking because he didn’t want to influence my opinion. I read 45 pages and gave up; it felt to me like the author was attacking the color of my skin, my gender, my sexual orientation, and my faith. Sure, he had some points, but how did he expect anyone who didn’t already agree with him to hear what he had to say? It turned out that my friend had the same reaction to the book, so he returned it and decided not to attend a book study based on it at his church. I hauled the book around on my front seat for a few days, intending to give it to one of “those pastors” in the area -- you know, the ones who come off like liberal activists, always finding new ways to make the community feel guilty and apologetic. Then my stubbornness kicked in: I rarely leave a book unfinished; besides, how could I accurately criticize a book I hadn’t even finished? I read 50 more pages with a slightly better attitude, and I began to believe that the author actually had something important to say.
In the meantime, our weekly text study rolled around, and I was confronted with this week’s gospel, including the line: “Do you think I have come to give peace to the earth? No! Rather, strife and division!” None of us could reconcile these words with our picture of Jesus. How would the people in the pews react to such a message? Later that day I led worship at Copper Glen. When I preach there I read the lessons and offer some thoughts on them individually and as a group. I still couldn’t get past the words of Jesus in the Gospel. My message was essentially, “I just don’t know what to say about this reading. Please pray for me.”
I returned to the office to several messages about the ELCA resolution to become a sanctuary denomination. Why in the world would the church body use such an inflammatory word? Sanctuary cities are places where illegal immigrants are protected from prosecution and deportation, right? Couldn’t they come up with a way of expressing their ideas that would automatically make many listeners angry? My Tuesday was capped off with a meeting in Appleton organized by a group opposed to the former prison being used as an ICE detention facility. The meeting consisted mostly of discussing how the values of evil corporations like Core Civic, evil agencies like ICE, and evil people like Donald Trump (although he was never mentioned by name) don’t align with the values of our communities.
Before writing this sermon, I finished the book. Near the end,
Duncan describes the nation as being “on the brink” and calls for a revolution. He says, “Right now, the world needs more Jesus people than it needs church people. If our gathered communities focus only on propping up the institution of church, all we will accomplish is propping up the failing infrastructure of empire. If we applied that same energy toward serving the people outside our church walls, we could be the spark needed to light the flame that burns away the barriers between us and the ever-living God…”
Which brings me back to the gospel reading.“I have come to bring fire to the earth, and, oh, that my task were completed! There is a terrible baptism ahead of me, and how I am pent up until it is accomplished! Do you think I have come to give peace to the earth? No! Rather, strife and division.” There is certainly no shortage of strife and division in our world; is it really possible that some of it is the work of God? I notice that the family conflicts that Jesus mentions are all inter-generational. I have never had an argument with my parents or my children about my faith. Does that mean that we all agree? I doubt it. My conflicting feelings about my peers from whom I learn, some of the authors whose work I read, the organizers of meetings that I attend, my synod, and the governing church body are opportunities for learning. The fact that I am made uncomfortable both by those I see as too liberal and those that I see as too conservative motivates me to think about what is making me so uncomfortable. I do not like to be corrected, and I’m not a fan of criticism, constructive or otherwise, but I am slowly learning to accept both. If our focus is on avoiding conflict and calling that peace, we are missing the boat. When Christ returns, what is superfluous will be burned away. What will be left? AMEN
In the meantime, our weekly text study rolled around, and I was confronted with this week’s gospel, including the line: “Do you think I have come to give peace to the earth? No! Rather, strife and division!” None of us could reconcile these words with our picture of Jesus. How would the people in the pews react to such a message? Later that day I led worship at Copper Glen. When I preach there I read the lessons and offer some thoughts on them individually and as a group. I still couldn’t get past the words of Jesus in the Gospel. My message was essentially, “I just don’t know what to say about this reading. Please pray for me.”
I returned to the office to several messages about the ELCA resolution to become a sanctuary denomination. Why in the world would the church body use such an inflammatory word? Sanctuary cities are places where illegal immigrants are protected from prosecution and deportation, right? Couldn’t they come up with a way of expressing their ideas that would automatically make many listeners angry? My Tuesday was capped off with a meeting in Appleton organized by a group opposed to the former prison being used as an ICE detention facility. The meeting consisted mostly of discussing how the values of evil corporations like Core Civic, evil agencies like ICE, and evil people like Donald Trump (although he was never mentioned by name) don’t align with the values of our communities.
Before writing this sermon, I finished the book. Near the end,
Duncan describes the nation as being “on the brink” and calls for a revolution. He says, “Right now, the world needs more Jesus people than it needs church people. If our gathered communities focus only on propping up the institution of church, all we will accomplish is propping up the failing infrastructure of empire. If we applied that same energy toward serving the people outside our church walls, we could be the spark needed to light the flame that burns away the barriers between us and the ever-living God…”
Which brings me back to the gospel reading.“I have come to bring fire to the earth, and, oh, that my task were completed! There is a terrible baptism ahead of me, and how I am pent up until it is accomplished! Do you think I have come to give peace to the earth? No! Rather, strife and division.” There is certainly no shortage of strife and division in our world; is it really possible that some of it is the work of God? I notice that the family conflicts that Jesus mentions are all inter-generational. I have never had an argument with my parents or my children about my faith. Does that mean that we all agree? I doubt it. My conflicting feelings about my peers from whom I learn, some of the authors whose work I read, the organizers of meetings that I attend, my synod, and the governing church body are opportunities for learning. The fact that I am made uncomfortable both by those I see as too liberal and those that I see as too conservative motivates me to think about what is making me so uncomfortable. I do not like to be corrected, and I’m not a fan of criticism, constructive or otherwise, but I am slowly learning to accept both. If our focus is on avoiding conflict and calling that peace, we are missing the boat. When Christ returns, what is superfluous will be burned away. What will be left? AMEN
This week at VBS the key verse was John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” You might think that the most difficult part of this verse to explain to children would be the end. After all, we all die, so what does it mean to have eternal life? Considering the age of the children, I was comfortable assuring them that eternal life is what happens when this life ends and we go to heaven. The part of John 3:16 that I find the most difficult is the middle -- “everyone who believes in him.” On the surface, this looks like a simple way to divide the sheep from the goats; Christians go to heaven while non-Christians go to hell, true believers are transported at the rapture while the hypocrites are left behind… The difficulty that I have is how to measure belief. Our Lutheran concept of grace assures me that I don’t have to do anything to receive the gift of eternal life, but then why doesn’t John 3:16 read, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son so that everyone may have eternal life?”
The first reading, the story of one of the encounters between God and Abram, has been very useful to me in understanding what it means to believe in God. Abram’s story begins when God says to him, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” In today’s reading, Abram is complaining to God because even though God has kept his promise, it is all a waste since there is no heir to whom Abram can pass on all of the riches that God has provided and protected. Instead of pointing our Abram’s ingratitude, God reassures him that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars. Abram believes him,“and the Lord reckons it to him as righteousness.” Simply put, Abram is right with God. Unfortunately for Abram’s righteousness, this isn’t the end of the story. After waiting ten more years, he and Sarai decide to take matters into their own hands, and Abram has a child with Hagar, Sarai’s servant. Surprisingly, this doesn’t lend itself to family harmony! Once again, God responds in a surprising way. Instead of becoming angry at Abram and Sarai, he creates a new covenant with Hagar. More time passes, God assures Abram again, changing his name to Abraham and repeating his promises, but when three messengers stop and tell Abraham and Sarah that they will soon have a son, Sarah laughs. Before Isaac is born, Abraham confronts God about the destruction of Sodom and denies that Sarah is his wife in order to save his own skin. In spite of all this, God keeps his promises and Abraham is able to have his shining moment, showing his willingness to sacrifice Isaac if that is what God requires.
I hope that I haven’t gone on so long that you have forgotten why I started talking about the story of Abram! My point was and is that having Abram/Abraham as a model of belief is reassuring because it is the kind of belief that is familiar to me. Abram and Sarai questioned God, laughed at the absurdity of God’s promises, tried to take matters into their own hands, and repeatedly acted in ways that showed that they did not trust God. Even so, God reckoned their belief as righteousness and kept his promises.
What does this mean to us? In John 3:16, Jesus promises eternal life. Our gospel reading today begins with a beautiful verse: "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” More than anything, God wants us to receive his gifts. Although we are but sheep, powerless to achieve anything of significance on our own, our Heavenly Father reckons our wavering, inconstant belief as righteousness. AMEN
The first reading, the story of one of the encounters between God and Abram, has been very useful to me in understanding what it means to believe in God. Abram’s story begins when God says to him, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” In today’s reading, Abram is complaining to God because even though God has kept his promise, it is all a waste since there is no heir to whom Abram can pass on all of the riches that God has provided and protected. Instead of pointing our Abram’s ingratitude, God reassures him that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars. Abram believes him,“and the Lord reckons it to him as righteousness.” Simply put, Abram is right with God. Unfortunately for Abram’s righteousness, this isn’t the end of the story. After waiting ten more years, he and Sarai decide to take matters into their own hands, and Abram has a child with Hagar, Sarai’s servant. Surprisingly, this doesn’t lend itself to family harmony! Once again, God responds in a surprising way. Instead of becoming angry at Abram and Sarai, he creates a new covenant with Hagar. More time passes, God assures Abram again, changing his name to Abraham and repeating his promises, but when three messengers stop and tell Abraham and Sarah that they will soon have a son, Sarah laughs. Before Isaac is born, Abraham confronts God about the destruction of Sodom and denies that Sarah is his wife in order to save his own skin. In spite of all this, God keeps his promises and Abraham is able to have his shining moment, showing his willingness to sacrifice Isaac if that is what God requires.
I hope that I haven’t gone on so long that you have forgotten why I started talking about the story of Abram! My point was and is that having Abram/Abraham as a model of belief is reassuring because it is the kind of belief that is familiar to me. Abram and Sarai questioned God, laughed at the absurdity of God’s promises, tried to take matters into their own hands, and repeatedly acted in ways that showed that they did not trust God. Even so, God reckoned their belief as righteousness and kept his promises.
What does this mean to us? In John 3:16, Jesus promises eternal life. Our gospel reading today begins with a beautiful verse: "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” More than anything, God wants us to receive his gifts. Although we are but sheep, powerless to achieve anything of significance on our own, our Heavenly Father reckons our wavering, inconstant belief as righteousness. AMEN
What did the man in the Gospel reading do that was so wrong that he should go through all of these years as an example of foolishness? The fact that he was rich is not his sin. Although the expression, “God helps those who help themselves” isn’t biblical, neither is the ministry of Jesus a celebration of poverty. It is easy of us to think of times when Jesus was critical of wealth and the wealthy: he told the rich man to sell all of his possessions, he said that man cannot serve both God and mammon, he freaked out on the moneychangers at the temple, he told the religious officials to render unto Caesar what was Caesar’s and unto God what was God’s, and he shared the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. It can be easy to equate wealth with evil -- maybe to soothe our feelings of jealousy towards those who have more than we do.
William Barclay breaks this parable down by identifying what the man remembered and what he forgot. The first thing that he remembered was himself. The line, “And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” is comical in its self-centeredness. He also remembered this world and what it meant to succeed in it. There is a quote attributed to Jesus but not found in the Bible: “The world is a bridge. The wise man will pass over it but will not build his house upon it.”
What he forgot was much more important than what he remembered. First of all, he forgot his neighbors. This doesn’t mean that he needed to give away what he had, although the parable makes it clear that it was the land, not the man who produced abundantly. He could have distributed his extra grain at a reasonable price or on shares in order to help others become established. He could have given more to those who worked for him. Perhaps he could have begun milling flour and/or baking bread on a scale that would provide employment for others. I am tempted to say here that he wasn’t obligated to do so, but that would be false. Jesus commanded us to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ and to ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.” At the very least, all of the “I”s in his thinking should have been replaced with “we”s.
More importantly, he forgot time. There is a story of three apprentice devils coming to earth to serve their time. They are sharing their plans for Satan’s approval. The first says, “I will tell men that there is no God.” “That will not do,” replies Satan, “because in their heart of hearts they know there is.” The second says, “I will tell men that there is no hell.” “That,” said Satan, “is still more hopeless for even in life they have experienced the remorse of hell.” “I will tell men,” said the third, “that there is no hurry.” “Go,” said Satan, “tell them that and you will ruin them by the million.” I mentioned the man’s definition of earthly success earlier. We all know that our definitions can change in the blink of an eye from our bank balance to the outcome of medical test results. A good day can become one through which we can bear our pain -- whether that pain is physical or mental -- the pain of grief or of the frustration of not being able to help a loved one through his or her struggles.
Most importantly, he forgot God. He made the mistake of pinning his hopes on the finite instead of the infinite. He forgot that everything in this life belongs to God, including ourselves. He forgot the line that we share on Ash Wednesday: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. AMEN
William Barclay breaks this parable down by identifying what the man remembered and what he forgot. The first thing that he remembered was himself. The line, “And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” is comical in its self-centeredness. He also remembered this world and what it meant to succeed in it. There is a quote attributed to Jesus but not found in the Bible: “The world is a bridge. The wise man will pass over it but will not build his house upon it.”
What he forgot was much more important than what he remembered. First of all, he forgot his neighbors. This doesn’t mean that he needed to give away what he had, although the parable makes it clear that it was the land, not the man who produced abundantly. He could have distributed his extra grain at a reasonable price or on shares in order to help others become established. He could have given more to those who worked for him. Perhaps he could have begun milling flour and/or baking bread on a scale that would provide employment for others. I am tempted to say here that he wasn’t obligated to do so, but that would be false. Jesus commanded us to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ and to ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.” At the very least, all of the “I”s in his thinking should have been replaced with “we”s.
More importantly, he forgot time. There is a story of three apprentice devils coming to earth to serve their time. They are sharing their plans for Satan’s approval. The first says, “I will tell men that there is no God.” “That will not do,” replies Satan, “because in their heart of hearts they know there is.” The second says, “I will tell men that there is no hell.” “That,” said Satan, “is still more hopeless for even in life they have experienced the remorse of hell.” “I will tell men,” said the third, “that there is no hurry.” “Go,” said Satan, “tell them that and you will ruin them by the million.” I mentioned the man’s definition of earthly success earlier. We all know that our definitions can change in the blink of an eye from our bank balance to the outcome of medical test results. A good day can become one through which we can bear our pain -- whether that pain is physical or mental -- the pain of grief or of the frustration of not being able to help a loved one through his or her struggles.
Most importantly, he forgot God. He made the mistake of pinning his hopes on the finite instead of the infinite. He forgot that everything in this life belongs to God, including ourselves. He forgot the line that we share on Ash Wednesday: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. AMEN
Who taught you to pray? As you think about that question, are you remembering instruction on how to pray, or are you recalling from who you learned specific prayers? The disciple didn’t ask Jesus to teach him a prayer, but the reply was a prayer that has been said countless times at church functions of all kinds and in hospital rooms. People who have forgotten their own names and the faces of their loved ones can often still say the Lord’s Prayer. At baptisms, funerals, weddings, and other events when the church is full of people who don’t normally come and who often don’t care to follow along in the hymnal, the vast majority join in the Lord’s Prayer. It has become an invaluable source of comfort, but the words themselves are not what the disciple asked for.
Some view the Lord’s prayer as a structure upon which Jesus wants us to build all of our prayers. Instead of giving us a specific prayer, they feel that Jesus is telling us, “whenever you pray, do it like this.” as if there is a specific formula for getting God’s attention -- sort of like getting a tip that a potential boss is an avid golfer before a job interview. I do not find this point of view satisfying.
I understand that it was typical for a Rabbi to teach his students a simple prayer that they would habitually use. Think about our own passing down of table graces and bedtime prayers. Do we say, “Come, Lord Jesus” and “Now I Lay me Down to Sleep” after agonizing theological study? I taught them to my kids because they were familiar to me and they connected my children to their grandparents. John the Baptist is specifically mentioned; his prayers likely included a request that the Messiah appear and get down to the business of clearing the threshing floor and burning the chaff. Whatever these prayers were, they reflected the core values of the teachers combined with their personal prayer traditions. This gets closer to what the disciple wanted. His question could be paraphrased, “How do you talk to God.”
In Matthew, Jesus replies first with warnings not to make a spectacle of yourself while praying and not to pad prayers with extra words. Prayer should be simple and private. In Luke, Jesus shares two parables about prayer. The first, together with the familiar words, “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” can be misleading and disheartening. If we don’t get what we pray for, it must be because we gave up too soon. The second tells us to imagine that if evil beings such as humans can find it in their hearts to treat their children generously, how well must God be prepared to treat us?
That gives us a picture of God as a parent -- someone who always has our best interests at heart and who will give us what we need, even though that might not always be what we want. In addition, this particular parent is perfect in every way -- never motivated by His own needs, distracted, or unable to fulfill his promises. This is an attractive idea, but it is limited if we view pray only as a way to get God to do what we need God to do. The idealized goal of a parent goes far beyond being a good provider for his or her children, far beyond just making the child happy. However they might choose to articulate it, parents want their children to be productive, to be engaged in a variety of loving relationships, to know that they have value, to be good people. In the garden, even Jesus struggled with his prayer, asking God to take his cup. In the end, he said, “Not my will but thine be done. God is not an earthly parent. God is pure goodness beyond our understanding. His kingdom come, his will be done. AMEN
Some view the Lord’s prayer as a structure upon which Jesus wants us to build all of our prayers. Instead of giving us a specific prayer, they feel that Jesus is telling us, “whenever you pray, do it like this.” as if there is a specific formula for getting God’s attention -- sort of like getting a tip that a potential boss is an avid golfer before a job interview. I do not find this point of view satisfying.
I understand that it was typical for a Rabbi to teach his students a simple prayer that they would habitually use. Think about our own passing down of table graces and bedtime prayers. Do we say, “Come, Lord Jesus” and “Now I Lay me Down to Sleep” after agonizing theological study? I taught them to my kids because they were familiar to me and they connected my children to their grandparents. John the Baptist is specifically mentioned; his prayers likely included a request that the Messiah appear and get down to the business of clearing the threshing floor and burning the chaff. Whatever these prayers were, they reflected the core values of the teachers combined with their personal prayer traditions. This gets closer to what the disciple wanted. His question could be paraphrased, “How do you talk to God.”
In Matthew, Jesus replies first with warnings not to make a spectacle of yourself while praying and not to pad prayers with extra words. Prayer should be simple and private. In Luke, Jesus shares two parables about prayer. The first, together with the familiar words, “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” can be misleading and disheartening. If we don’t get what we pray for, it must be because we gave up too soon. The second tells us to imagine that if evil beings such as humans can find it in their hearts to treat their children generously, how well must God be prepared to treat us?
That gives us a picture of God as a parent -- someone who always has our best interests at heart and who will give us what we need, even though that might not always be what we want. In addition, this particular parent is perfect in every way -- never motivated by His own needs, distracted, or unable to fulfill his promises. This is an attractive idea, but it is limited if we view pray only as a way to get God to do what we need God to do. The idealized goal of a parent goes far beyond being a good provider for his or her children, far beyond just making the child happy. However they might choose to articulate it, parents want their children to be productive, to be engaged in a variety of loving relationships, to know that they have value, to be good people. In the garden, even Jesus struggled with his prayer, asking God to take his cup. In the end, he said, “Not my will but thine be done. God is not an earthly parent. God is pure goodness beyond our understanding. His kingdom come, his will be done. AMEN
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. There is an injured traveller laying on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho. First a priest and then a Levite pass by, keeping to the other side of the road. Then a Samaritan, a natural-born villain if ever there was, stops, cleans and bandages the man’s wounds, and hauls him to safety at an inn where he pays an exorbitant sum for the man’s care, promising to stop back and settle up for any additional expenses. This parable gives us the term “good Samaritan,” which means someone who does good to others even though they don’t have to and/or with no expectation of reward or recognition. As the man said, “Go and do likewise.” Have a good week…
Well, maybe there is a little more to say about this parable and the situation. Let’s start with the people involved. The whole thing starts with the words, “Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.” or, in the Living Translation, “A teacher of the Law came up and tried to trap Jesus.” Right off the bat we dislike this guy -- the New Testament is not at all kind to teachers of the law and religious officials, and stereotypes of lawyers as ruthless and selfish come to mind. I wonder, though, what I would ask Jesus if he happened to drop in at text study one Tuesday. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if our conversation included some seeking of reassurance that I’m on the right track -- that my life is pleasing to God. Like the lawyer, I know the words: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself." Notice that Jesus gives the man a challenge instead of a pat on the head by saying, "You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live." It is hard to blame the questioner when he asks for a definition of the word, “neighbor.” The idea of loving everyone with indiscriminate completeness is wildly impractical.
This brings us to the characters in the story. We begin with the priest. While Jesus gives no reasons for his failing to help the injured man, it has been speculated that it is mostly because doing so would make him ritually impure and unable to fulfill his priestly duties. This makes it easy to dismiss him as someone who talks the talk without walking the walk. Most of the original audience for the parable and, of course, most of you, are not priests, so whipping up a sense of righteous indignation is pretty easy. The Levite, on the other hand, represented a more typical Jew. He was a member of the congregation, so to speak. This makes it more necessary to make excuses for him. He too might have been on his way to church. The road was dangerous. The man might have just been pretending to have been injured, and an accomplice might have been lurking in the ditch. Maybe it was the injured man’s own fault -- he knew the risks when he set out alone on such a dangerous road. Maybe the man, in addition to being naked and bleeding, had some horribly contagious disease. Maybe another traveler had already gone for help. If the man was dead, what good would stopping do… Go ahead and stop me when you hear one that you like. The Levite has a lot in common with us, but he couldn’t be us, could he?
Finally, the Samaritan enters the picture. Maybe it will help if we picture Samaritans and Levites as Norwegians and Swedes in that an unbiased observer would have an extremely hard time telling the difference. Or, maybe it would be more helpful to picture them as Missouri Synod Lutherans and ELCA Lutherans. The Samaritans are the LCMS -- the preservers of tradition -- viewing the Levites as having watered down the faith during their time in exile. Or we could view the two groups as citizens and illegal immigrants. Imagine an illegal immigrant giving assistance at an accident scene, risking deportation or even being accused of causing the injuries. Notice that Jesus doesn’t ask who was the best neighbor, but which acted as a neighbor. The lawyer won’t even say the word “Samaritan,” just “The one who was kind to him.”
This brings us full circle to Jesus’ charge to “go and do likewise.” Essentially, it has become the answer to the question, “What must I do to receive eternal life?” It seems clear that Jesus is calling us to compassion that leads to action. We are still full of questions about how this is possible, aren’t we? Where is personal accountability in a world where we are called to help people who find themselves in trouble of their own making, people who openly despise us, people who are likely beyond our ability to help them? How can we fulfill our responsibilities to our employers and families if we are risking our safety and using our resources to indiscriminately help others? Maybe we already know the answer. Moses sure seemed to think so in his farewell speech in Deuteronomy: Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, "Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, "Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe. AMEN
Well, maybe there is a little more to say about this parable and the situation. Let’s start with the people involved. The whole thing starts with the words, “Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.” or, in the Living Translation, “A teacher of the Law came up and tried to trap Jesus.” Right off the bat we dislike this guy -- the New Testament is not at all kind to teachers of the law and religious officials, and stereotypes of lawyers as ruthless and selfish come to mind. I wonder, though, what I would ask Jesus if he happened to drop in at text study one Tuesday. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if our conversation included some seeking of reassurance that I’m on the right track -- that my life is pleasing to God. Like the lawyer, I know the words: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself." Notice that Jesus gives the man a challenge instead of a pat on the head by saying, "You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live." It is hard to blame the questioner when he asks for a definition of the word, “neighbor.” The idea of loving everyone with indiscriminate completeness is wildly impractical.
This brings us to the characters in the story. We begin with the priest. While Jesus gives no reasons for his failing to help the injured man, it has been speculated that it is mostly because doing so would make him ritually impure and unable to fulfill his priestly duties. This makes it easy to dismiss him as someone who talks the talk without walking the walk. Most of the original audience for the parable and, of course, most of you, are not priests, so whipping up a sense of righteous indignation is pretty easy. The Levite, on the other hand, represented a more typical Jew. He was a member of the congregation, so to speak. This makes it more necessary to make excuses for him. He too might have been on his way to church. The road was dangerous. The man might have just been pretending to have been injured, and an accomplice might have been lurking in the ditch. Maybe it was the injured man’s own fault -- he knew the risks when he set out alone on such a dangerous road. Maybe the man, in addition to being naked and bleeding, had some horribly contagious disease. Maybe another traveler had already gone for help. If the man was dead, what good would stopping do… Go ahead and stop me when you hear one that you like. The Levite has a lot in common with us, but he couldn’t be us, could he?
Finally, the Samaritan enters the picture. Maybe it will help if we picture Samaritans and Levites as Norwegians and Swedes in that an unbiased observer would have an extremely hard time telling the difference. Or, maybe it would be more helpful to picture them as Missouri Synod Lutherans and ELCA Lutherans. The Samaritans are the LCMS -- the preservers of tradition -- viewing the Levites as having watered down the faith during their time in exile. Or we could view the two groups as citizens and illegal immigrants. Imagine an illegal immigrant giving assistance at an accident scene, risking deportation or even being accused of causing the injuries. Notice that Jesus doesn’t ask who was the best neighbor, but which acted as a neighbor. The lawyer won’t even say the word “Samaritan,” just “The one who was kind to him.”
This brings us full circle to Jesus’ charge to “go and do likewise.” Essentially, it has become the answer to the question, “What must I do to receive eternal life?” It seems clear that Jesus is calling us to compassion that leads to action. We are still full of questions about how this is possible, aren’t we? Where is personal accountability in a world where we are called to help people who find themselves in trouble of their own making, people who openly despise us, people who are likely beyond our ability to help them? How can we fulfill our responsibilities to our employers and families if we are risking our safety and using our resources to indiscriminately help others? Maybe we already know the answer. Moses sure seemed to think so in his farewell speech in Deuteronomy: Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, "Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, "Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe. AMEN
All of the synoptic Gospels include the sending of the 12 disciples, but only Luke tells of the sending of the 72 (or 70 depending on the translation). Like most of the numbers in the Bible, this one is important; it either parallels a passage from Numbers: “The Lord answered Moses, ‘Bring Me 70 men from Israel known to you as elders and officers of the people. Take them to the tent of meeting and have them stand there with you. Then I will come down and speak with you there. I will take some of the Spirit who is on you and put the Spirit on them. They will help you bear the burden of the people, so that you do not have to bear it by yourself.’” or the 72 nations that were thought to exist in the world in biblical times. Jesus is making it clear that spreading the Gospel is a big job that will take a great deal of help.
The instructions given are quite simple: don’t bring anything with you and don’t waste time visiting along the way. When you enter a house, say, “Peace be with this house.” If they accept your greeting, stay in that house, eat whatever they feed you, don’t wander around looking for a house with better food or nicer accommodations; heal all of the sick in that town, and tell the people, “The Kingdom of God has come near you.” If, on the other hand, the people in the house don’t accept the greeting, “Peace be with this house.”, take it back and move on. If you are unwelcome in a town, shake the dust off of your sandals, refusing to take even that with you, but tell them too that “The Kingdom of God has come near you.” There is one line kind of buried in the instructions that certainly would have caught my attention: “Go! I am sending you like lambs among wolves.”
Along with the instructions not to carry supplies, this shows the disciples that they are going to need to rely on a power greater than their own to counter their total vulnerability. There is no promise of safety or success -- they are not given theological genius to persuade those they meet of the truth of their two statements. They aren’t even given guidelines on how long to stay in each place; should they stay until all of the sick are healed, until the people begin spreading the message on their own, or until they wear out their welcome? For those of us who are uncertain of our role in the spreading of the Gospel, this should be reassuring. Like the 70, we are asked to share a simple message -- “God’s peace is with you. God is near you.” with the understanding that many will reject that message. This is not a reflection of our own abilities to explain the Kingdom of God; no human is able to do that. There is no shame in struggling to put our faith into words, in being unable to explain why bad things happen to good people, in being viewed as simple-minded for our beliefs. We are to shake the dust of the doubts of others from our feet and move forward. After all, it isn’t personal. Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever listens to you listens to me; whoever rejects you rejects me; and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”
When the disciples return, they are excited about the results of their mission, saying, “even the demons obeyed us when we gave them a command in your name!” The fact that Jesus isn’t impressed is not surprising. Throughout his ministry, it is the demons who have most reliably recognized him. This takes even more pressure from us. It is not our calling to defeat evil in the world. We can confine our efforts to ignorance and apathy, and we are not going to be held accountable for how others respond to the message that “God’s peace is with you. God is near you.” Instead, Jesus tells us to “be glad because your names are written in heaven.” AMEN
The instructions given are quite simple: don’t bring anything with you and don’t waste time visiting along the way. When you enter a house, say, “Peace be with this house.” If they accept your greeting, stay in that house, eat whatever they feed you, don’t wander around looking for a house with better food or nicer accommodations; heal all of the sick in that town, and tell the people, “The Kingdom of God has come near you.” If, on the other hand, the people in the house don’t accept the greeting, “Peace be with this house.”, take it back and move on. If you are unwelcome in a town, shake the dust off of your sandals, refusing to take even that with you, but tell them too that “The Kingdom of God has come near you.” There is one line kind of buried in the instructions that certainly would have caught my attention: “Go! I am sending you like lambs among wolves.”
Along with the instructions not to carry supplies, this shows the disciples that they are going to need to rely on a power greater than their own to counter their total vulnerability. There is no promise of safety or success -- they are not given theological genius to persuade those they meet of the truth of their two statements. They aren’t even given guidelines on how long to stay in each place; should they stay until all of the sick are healed, until the people begin spreading the message on their own, or until they wear out their welcome? For those of us who are uncertain of our role in the spreading of the Gospel, this should be reassuring. Like the 70, we are asked to share a simple message -- “God’s peace is with you. God is near you.” with the understanding that many will reject that message. This is not a reflection of our own abilities to explain the Kingdom of God; no human is able to do that. There is no shame in struggling to put our faith into words, in being unable to explain why bad things happen to good people, in being viewed as simple-minded for our beliefs. We are to shake the dust of the doubts of others from our feet and move forward. After all, it isn’t personal. Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever listens to you listens to me; whoever rejects you rejects me; and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”
When the disciples return, they are excited about the results of their mission, saying, “even the demons obeyed us when we gave them a command in your name!” The fact that Jesus isn’t impressed is not surprising. Throughout his ministry, it is the demons who have most reliably recognized him. This takes even more pressure from us. It is not our calling to defeat evil in the world. We can confine our efforts to ignorance and apathy, and we are not going to be held accountable for how others respond to the message that “God’s peace is with you. God is near you.” Instead, Jesus tells us to “be glad because your names are written in heaven.” AMEN
It is interesting to read Paul’s thoughts on freedom at this time of year at this time in the history of our country. The opening line, “For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” speaks right into our national mania for individual freedom. National discourse from all sides has become a discussion of what is ours, our rights, inalienable and God-given, verses our obligations. Our government seems to have descended into a partisan rabbit hole where the greatest goal of both parties is to deny any victory to the other. On a personal level, our society seems to have reached the point where the rights of the individual are more important than the good of the community. What do you think would happen today if the military draft was re-instituted? If you had to apply to the local rationing board to buy new tires for your tractor? If gas was rationed? What would the reaction be if ration books were distributed today? Would the sacrifices that were made across our country, not only by those who served, but by those who did without for the war effort, be possible today?
What does this nostalgia for America in wartime have to do with Paul’s letter to the Galatians? I am not saying that people were better back then, and I am certainly not hoping for an international event that forces us to unite or perish as a country. I am only wondering if the mindset of subordinating individual rights for the common good is possible in the current environment.
Paul says, “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.” As much as we resist the yoke, we are called to be yoked to one another. When we think only of ourselves, Paul tells us that the results are obvious: “fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these.” All of these pit us against the other, resulting in lives spent in angry futility. It hardly seems necessary to point out that all of these things are sins or that most of us have engaged in some of these behaviors. Paul says, “ I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.” There it is -- we are without hope. That is, of course, where Jesus comes in.
In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus says,“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” While we are all destined to sin, we don’t need to be yoked to our sinful nature. Instead, we can share the yoke with Jesus, which, counterintuitively, makes us free. Free for what? Pauls says, “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” We are relational creatures, created to live in community. It is through our faith, not through laws, that we experience healthy communities. While our government squabbles over whether or not immigrant children should be given soap and toothbrushes, we can experience the joy that comes from doing what is right, from love and service to one another. AMEN
What does this nostalgia for America in wartime have to do with Paul’s letter to the Galatians? I am not saying that people were better back then, and I am certainly not hoping for an international event that forces us to unite or perish as a country. I am only wondering if the mindset of subordinating individual rights for the common good is possible in the current environment.
Paul says, “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.” As much as we resist the yoke, we are called to be yoked to one another. When we think only of ourselves, Paul tells us that the results are obvious: “fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these.” All of these pit us against the other, resulting in lives spent in angry futility. It hardly seems necessary to point out that all of these things are sins or that most of us have engaged in some of these behaviors. Paul says, “ I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.” There it is -- we are without hope. That is, of course, where Jesus comes in.
In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus says,“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” While we are all destined to sin, we don’t need to be yoked to our sinful nature. Instead, we can share the yoke with Jesus, which, counterintuitively, makes us free. Free for what? Pauls says, “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” We are relational creatures, created to live in community. It is through our faith, not through laws, that we experience healthy communities. While our government squabbles over whether or not immigrant children should be given soap and toothbrushes, we can experience the joy that comes from doing what is right, from love and service to one another. AMEN
This might come as a shock, but there was something special about Jesus. Ironically, it was the devil and the demons that Jesus encountered in his time on earth that make that the most clear. We might have some problems with the idea of demons in our “civilized” society, but there is no doubt that evil is real; the news is full of reports of evil that are almost unimaginable. “all the “demons” Jesus confronts have three things in common: they cause self-destructive behavior in the victim, the victim feels trapped in that condition, and they separate the victim from normal living in the family circle. Sound familiar? Don’t many of us suffer from the same kind of snares and burdens?” The fact of the matter is that evil recognized Jesus every time, while those who were supposedly “good” usually failed to do so. Immediately before today’s Gospel reading is the story of Jesus calming the storm. The disciples response? “And they were filled with awe and fear of him and said to one another, ‘Who is this man, that even the winds and waves obey him?”
Contrast that with the reaction of the Gerasene Demoniac. By the way, isn’t that a fabulous title? It reminds me of a professional wrestler: in this corner, from parts unknown, with the strength of a legion of soldiers, the Gerasene Demoniac! (the crowd goes wild). Picture this man racing down the hill toward Jesus and the disciples as they secure their boat -- naked, filthy, long, matted hair -- trailing the remnants of restraints from his arms and legs -- bleeding from where he has pounded his head against the rocks -- screaming at the top of his lungs as he emerges from the tombs -- scrambling and stumbling full speed. It must have been quite a sight! Instead of attacking them or simply bowling them over, he falls to his knees at Jesus’ feet.
Remember, the disciples are still trying to figure out who Jesus is, but the spokesman demon “shouts at the top of his voice, ‘What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me’ because Jesus has already commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. Even though they are in gentile territory and living in a time where many different gods are worshipped, the demons know that Jesus is the son of the one God, the real deal. Jesus asks the name, of the man or the demon we can’t be sure; the reply is “Legion.” Much has been made of this name and its association with the occupying Roman sources, and even more has been made of why Jesus allows the demons to enter the pigs. For this morning, I’ll ask you to settle for the answers that the name “Legion,” combined with the details that there were many pigs who acted in a decidedly un-piglike way by rushing into the sea and drowning tell us that there were many demons and that they were an actual presence.
The swineherds run off to tell everyone: “Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid.” Before we condemn these people, we need to remember that they are reacting to Jesus the same way that the disciples had only hours earlier. We should also consider how we might respond to a demonstration of power that is beyond our understanding and control. How would we fare in the presence of God?
It is understandable that the newly-healed man wants to go with Jesus. He has been disconnected from his community for a long time, and Jesus has just given him his life back. He is the person who he was always meant to be. That perfect person lives inside of all of us, waiting for the light of Jesus to set it free. For the first time in the reading, Jesus says no, instructing the man instead to, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you." This might not be the great commission, but it is a commission from God, and I find it more difficult. It is one thing to think about the salvation of people on the other side of the world, and another to work with our own friends and families. There are two areas of premarital counseling that make me nervous: sexual expectations and spirituality. Talking to young people about why they need to welcome Christ into their marriages just doesn’t come naturally to me. It is the same with my own friends and family -- I am afraid to be that guy who makes everything about God. In Luke’s account, we don’t know whether or not anyone listened. I don’t suppose that it matters.
How does this crazy story apply to us today? First of all, it reminds us that there is a real struggle between good and evil in the world. Secondly, we are reminded that we already know who will win. Finally, we see further evidence that we are all called to serve the Lord in unique ways. AMEN
Contrast that with the reaction of the Gerasene Demoniac. By the way, isn’t that a fabulous title? It reminds me of a professional wrestler: in this corner, from parts unknown, with the strength of a legion of soldiers, the Gerasene Demoniac! (the crowd goes wild). Picture this man racing down the hill toward Jesus and the disciples as they secure their boat -- naked, filthy, long, matted hair -- trailing the remnants of restraints from his arms and legs -- bleeding from where he has pounded his head against the rocks -- screaming at the top of his lungs as he emerges from the tombs -- scrambling and stumbling full speed. It must have been quite a sight! Instead of attacking them or simply bowling them over, he falls to his knees at Jesus’ feet.
Remember, the disciples are still trying to figure out who Jesus is, but the spokesman demon “shouts at the top of his voice, ‘What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me’ because Jesus has already commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. Even though they are in gentile territory and living in a time where many different gods are worshipped, the demons know that Jesus is the son of the one God, the real deal. Jesus asks the name, of the man or the demon we can’t be sure; the reply is “Legion.” Much has been made of this name and its association with the occupying Roman sources, and even more has been made of why Jesus allows the demons to enter the pigs. For this morning, I’ll ask you to settle for the answers that the name “Legion,” combined with the details that there were many pigs who acted in a decidedly un-piglike way by rushing into the sea and drowning tell us that there were many demons and that they were an actual presence.
The swineherds run off to tell everyone: “Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid.” Before we condemn these people, we need to remember that they are reacting to Jesus the same way that the disciples had only hours earlier. We should also consider how we might respond to a demonstration of power that is beyond our understanding and control. How would we fare in the presence of God?
It is understandable that the newly-healed man wants to go with Jesus. He has been disconnected from his community for a long time, and Jesus has just given him his life back. He is the person who he was always meant to be. That perfect person lives inside of all of us, waiting for the light of Jesus to set it free. For the first time in the reading, Jesus says no, instructing the man instead to, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you." This might not be the great commission, but it is a commission from God, and I find it more difficult. It is one thing to think about the salvation of people on the other side of the world, and another to work with our own friends and families. There are two areas of premarital counseling that make me nervous: sexual expectations and spirituality. Talking to young people about why they need to welcome Christ into their marriages just doesn’t come naturally to me. It is the same with my own friends and family -- I am afraid to be that guy who makes everything about God. In Luke’s account, we don’t know whether or not anyone listened. I don’t suppose that it matters.
How does this crazy story apply to us today? First of all, it reminds us that there is a real struggle between good and evil in the world. Secondly, we are reminded that we already know who will win. Finally, we see further evidence that we are all called to serve the Lord in unique ways. AMEN
Today is Holy Trinity Sunday. I assume that you all lept out of bed this morning looking forward to having me explain the Trinity to you in extremely technical language. After all, the Trinity is the defining difference between Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. It seems logical that a part of the ordination process would be the requirement that the Trinity be understood, but here we are. Sue Eaves, an Episcopal priest says, “It is when we try to put this experience into words that we begin to glimpse the great difficulty of speaking of the great mystery of God at all. We begin to see that God is a lot bigger, a lot more alive -- a lot more than we are.” This is not a new struggle; in fact, it is as old as the church itself.
One of the questions that plagued the early church was how to explain how Jesus could be both human and divine. It would make more sense to us (and sound more like mythology) if God simply disguised himself as a human. It would also be easier to believe that Jesus was a gifted teacher, an exceptional prophet, or a legendary figure along the lines of Paul Bunyan or Pecos Bill. The author of John was surely aware of this, and he went out of his way to include the Holy Spirit in the conversation. In the year 381, Emperor Theodosius called the council of Contantinople, where the brightest religious minds gathered to solve the Father/Son/Holy Spirit issue once and for all. The result was what we call the Nicene Creed, in which we declare, “For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven, was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary and became truly human…” and, “We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son is worshiped and glorified, who has spoken through the prophets.”
Enough with the history lesson… well, almost. In the Nicene Creed, we also say that we believe in one holy, catholic, and Apostolic Church. According to one of my seminary textbooks, “The Church is apostolic because everything it confesses about Christ comes from the apostles as witness, whose testimony to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ has been transmitted by the Holy Scripture.” (World Council of Churches) This, of course, leads to another question; the authority of scripture. Today’s Gospel reading begins, “"I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.”
The Nicene Creed, I believe, states that the Holy Scripture, in part, is the testimony of the apostles, eyewitnesses to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Some have argued that all authority comes from scripture, and that the work of the spirit is to reveal the truth of scripture as we are ready. William Barclay, who I use as a primary source in almost every sermon, has a far different take: “It is the proof that there is no end to God’s revelation. One of the mistakes which men sometimes make is to identify God’s revelation solely with the Bible. That would be to say that since about ad 120, when the last book in the New Testament was written, God has ceased to speak, that since then there has been no more revelation from God.”
In my opinion, the Gospels, especially the first three, are the recollections of three of the apostles as they look back on the time they spent with Jesus. Each Gospel is written at a different time for a different audience, and each author remembers some different things and remembers some things differently. This is what makes them authentic. They also establish a connection between the prophecies of the Old Testament and the life of Jesus. The writings of Paul and the other epistles give us insight into the thinking of the founders of the Church. Is scripture divinely inspired? I should say so! Did the authors simply transcribe the words of God? I think not. We are an apostolic church because, like the apostles, we are doing our best to discern God’s word with our limited human understanding. God has given us intellect and curiosity so that we can use our understanding of scripture to better sense His work in the world. AMEN
One of the questions that plagued the early church was how to explain how Jesus could be both human and divine. It would make more sense to us (and sound more like mythology) if God simply disguised himself as a human. It would also be easier to believe that Jesus was a gifted teacher, an exceptional prophet, or a legendary figure along the lines of Paul Bunyan or Pecos Bill. The author of John was surely aware of this, and he went out of his way to include the Holy Spirit in the conversation. In the year 381, Emperor Theodosius called the council of Contantinople, where the brightest religious minds gathered to solve the Father/Son/Holy Spirit issue once and for all. The result was what we call the Nicene Creed, in which we declare, “For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven, was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary and became truly human…” and, “We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son is worshiped and glorified, who has spoken through the prophets.”
Enough with the history lesson… well, almost. In the Nicene Creed, we also say that we believe in one holy, catholic, and Apostolic Church. According to one of my seminary textbooks, “The Church is apostolic because everything it confesses about Christ comes from the apostles as witness, whose testimony to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ has been transmitted by the Holy Scripture.” (World Council of Churches) This, of course, leads to another question; the authority of scripture. Today’s Gospel reading begins, “"I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.”
The Nicene Creed, I believe, states that the Holy Scripture, in part, is the testimony of the apostles, eyewitnesses to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Some have argued that all authority comes from scripture, and that the work of the spirit is to reveal the truth of scripture as we are ready. William Barclay, who I use as a primary source in almost every sermon, has a far different take: “It is the proof that there is no end to God’s revelation. One of the mistakes which men sometimes make is to identify God’s revelation solely with the Bible. That would be to say that since about ad 120, when the last book in the New Testament was written, God has ceased to speak, that since then there has been no more revelation from God.”
In my opinion, the Gospels, especially the first three, are the recollections of three of the apostles as they look back on the time they spent with Jesus. Each Gospel is written at a different time for a different audience, and each author remembers some different things and remembers some things differently. This is what makes them authentic. They also establish a connection between the prophecies of the Old Testament and the life of Jesus. The writings of Paul and the other epistles give us insight into the thinking of the founders of the Church. Is scripture divinely inspired? I should say so! Did the authors simply transcribe the words of God? I think not. We are an apostolic church because, like the apostles, we are doing our best to discern God’s word with our limited human understanding. God has given us intellect and curiosity so that we can use our understanding of scripture to better sense His work in the world. AMEN
John’s account of the Last Supper takes five chapters. Throughout the evening, Jesus speaks again and again on three themes: He is leaving, his followers are staying, and the Holy Spirit will be with them so that they may continue his work. Again and again, the disciples get stuck on the first point. In various ways, they ask, "Could we go back to that thing you said about leaving?" At the beginning of our Gospel reading, it is Phillip’s turn, as he says, "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied." Jesus appeals to their experience: They have seen him, so they have seen the Father. They have heard his words, which are the words of the Father. If that isn’t enough, they have seen his works -- clear evidence of the power of God. Before beginning their own ministries, they will also see the death and resurrection of Jesus, receive further instruction, and watch him ascend into Heaven.
While I believe that we are all called to be disciples, it is clear that we don’t have many of the advantages that the original 12 had. Reading about something is not the same as experiencing it. Some of what Jesus says to the disciples seems like it might be directed explicitly to them as well. For example, “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.” Either these words don’t apply to me, or there are aspects of “asking in Jesus’ name” that I don’t understand. “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.” falls into the same category. Am I to believe that I am capable of doing greater works than Jesus did if I truly believe?
One advantage that we share with the original disciples is the gift of the Holy Spirit, the advocate, the helper, the paraclete. The word that John used, Parakletos, means “the one called alongside.” A paraclete was the one who stood alongside an accused person in court. Jesus tells the disciples, “This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.” I don’t think that this message is directed only to the original disciples. According to Osvaldo Vena, “When Jesus is gone, and the Spirit comes, the community will replace Jesus as instruments of God. God will be incarnated again, this time not in a person, Jesus , but in a group of people who will continue Jesus’ work to an even greater degree . The same kind of symbiotic relationship that existed between Jesus and the Father will now exist between the community and the Holy Spirit.”
How will this Holy Spirit work? Jesus says that “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” The Holy Spirit will help us to understand Jesus’ words; this means going past repetition and into interpretation and contextualization. Again, according to Vena, “When Jesus is gone, and the Spirit comes, the community will replace Jesus as instruments of God. God will be incarnated again, this time not in a person, Jesus , but in a group of people who will continue Jesus’ work to an even greater degree . The same kind of symbiotic relationship that existed between Jesus and the Father will now exist between the community and the Holy Spirit. It is through this relationship that the church becomes the living representation of God -- the means by which people are led to salvation -- and worship becomes a place where God is encountered. AMEN
While I believe that we are all called to be disciples, it is clear that we don’t have many of the advantages that the original 12 had. Reading about something is not the same as experiencing it. Some of what Jesus says to the disciples seems like it might be directed explicitly to them as well. For example, “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.” Either these words don’t apply to me, or there are aspects of “asking in Jesus’ name” that I don’t understand. “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.” falls into the same category. Am I to believe that I am capable of doing greater works than Jesus did if I truly believe?
One advantage that we share with the original disciples is the gift of the Holy Spirit, the advocate, the helper, the paraclete. The word that John used, Parakletos, means “the one called alongside.” A paraclete was the one who stood alongside an accused person in court. Jesus tells the disciples, “This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.” I don’t think that this message is directed only to the original disciples. According to Osvaldo Vena, “When Jesus is gone, and the Spirit comes, the community will replace Jesus as instruments of God. God will be incarnated again, this time not in a person, Jesus , but in a group of people who will continue Jesus’ work to an even greater degree . The same kind of symbiotic relationship that existed between Jesus and the Father will now exist between the community and the Holy Spirit.”
How will this Holy Spirit work? Jesus says that “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” The Holy Spirit will help us to understand Jesus’ words; this means going past repetition and into interpretation and contextualization. Again, according to Vena, “When Jesus is gone, and the Spirit comes, the community will replace Jesus as instruments of God. God will be incarnated again, this time not in a person, Jesus , but in a group of people who will continue Jesus’ work to an even greater degree . The same kind of symbiotic relationship that existed between Jesus and the Father will now exist between the community and the Holy Spirit. It is through this relationship that the church becomes the living representation of God -- the means by which people are led to salvation -- and worship becomes a place where God is encountered. AMEN
As we continue to work with John’s Gospel, I have found it interesting that my mind fills in the blanks with information from the synoptic Gospels. In John, there is no Lord’s prayer, no words of institution at the Last Supper, and Jesus never asks God to take his cup at Gethsemane. John’s account of the Last Supper is dominated by the foot washing and the expulsion of Judas, followed by a lengthy discourse during which Jesus explains that he is leaving, that the disciples cannot follow where he is going, that the Holy Spirit will come as an Advocate after he leaves, and that He will return in glory. This section concludes with a prayer before Jesus leaves for the garden. Unlike the prayer at Gethsemane in the other Gospels, the disciples (except for Judas) are present and awake for this one. It is not a set of instructions for them or for those of us who read it today, but the revelation of Jesus’ most important desires. “The outline of the prayer is simple and straightforward -- Jesus first prays for himself, then for his present disciples, then for believers yet to be -- that is, you and me. And Jesus’ prayer is a form of prayer, a way to pray, that we can imitate. What if our prayers start with ourselves, then move to those who walk alongside us, our fellow believers, those who accompany us in our faith, and then for the world?”
The section that was read today is Jesus’ prayer for us and the conclusion of the whole prayer. What is it that Jesus wants for us? It is really quite simple: unity with one another and our personal presence with Him. Actually, these two desires are intertwined. What does it mean for us to be united, even to the extent that it includes those who do not yet believe? Part of this unity has to do with the limitations that we place on the world through our concept of time. God is eternal; time is irrelevant to God. By becoming one with God through Christ, we become eternal as well -- not in the sense that we usually think -- that our temporary, earthly, life will be replaced by eternal life in heaven, but that we become part of an entity that has existed since before the beginning of time -- that extends to eternity in both directions. What we call the communion of saints lets us walk with Jesus and the apostles and listen to the wind over the waters at creation.
This unity does not mean that there should be one universal church unless it means that there is one universal church. Whether we think of the idea of God’s house having many rooms or the church as the body of Christ, there is certainly room for diversity within the Christian church. What must be remembered is that God so wanted unity with us that he became one of us. Regardless of how we interpret scripture, what our worship looks like, or any other details, we are bound together with God through Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The more points of view that we are willing to consider, the more likely we are to come across ideas with which we disagree -- which is a good and healthy thing. By debating these ideas with open minds, we can find the strengths and weaknesses in our own beliefs and add to them.
This is not an easy or natural thing, which is also good and healthy. As Barclay put it, “It is more natural for men to be divided than to be united. It is more human for men to fly apart than come together. Real unity between all Christians would be a supernatural fact which would require a supernatural explanation.” They will know we are Christians by our love (and by our personal relationship with God) AMEN
The section that was read today is Jesus’ prayer for us and the conclusion of the whole prayer. What is it that Jesus wants for us? It is really quite simple: unity with one another and our personal presence with Him. Actually, these two desires are intertwined. What does it mean for us to be united, even to the extent that it includes those who do not yet believe? Part of this unity has to do with the limitations that we place on the world through our concept of time. God is eternal; time is irrelevant to God. By becoming one with God through Christ, we become eternal as well -- not in the sense that we usually think -- that our temporary, earthly, life will be replaced by eternal life in heaven, but that we become part of an entity that has existed since before the beginning of time -- that extends to eternity in both directions. What we call the communion of saints lets us walk with Jesus and the apostles and listen to the wind over the waters at creation.
This unity does not mean that there should be one universal church unless it means that there is one universal church. Whether we think of the idea of God’s house having many rooms or the church as the body of Christ, there is certainly room for diversity within the Christian church. What must be remembered is that God so wanted unity with us that he became one of us. Regardless of how we interpret scripture, what our worship looks like, or any other details, we are bound together with God through Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The more points of view that we are willing to consider, the more likely we are to come across ideas with which we disagree -- which is a good and healthy thing. By debating these ideas with open minds, we can find the strengths and weaknesses in our own beliefs and add to them.
This is not an easy or natural thing, which is also good and healthy. As Barclay put it, “It is more natural for men to be divided than to be united. It is more human for men to fly apart than come together. Real unity between all Christians would be a supernatural fact which would require a supernatural explanation.” They will know we are Christians by our love (and by our personal relationship with God) AMEN
Tonight’s Gospel reading is a small story inside of a bigger story. Jesus is in Jerusalem for one of the festivals that he would have been expected to attend as a Jewish man. While he is there, he stops by a pool called Beth-zatha or Bethesda which is thought to have healing properties, likely due to the influence of some minor Roman god, heals a man, and orders him to pick up his mat and walk. Since it is the Sabbath, it doesn’t take long for someone to point out that the man is breaking the law by carrying his mat. The man protests that he is simply following the orders of the one who healed him, and he’s not sure who that man is. That would have been the end of the story, but Jesus sought the man out among the crowd in the temple and told him “Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you.” This is confusing because most of Jesus’ teaching on the subject says that sickness is not a result of sin, but I’ll get back to that in a bit. The man responds, not by thanking Jesus, but by telling the religious officials who Jesus is. In John, this is when the persecution of Jesus begins. The fact that Jesus performed the healing on the Sabbath in Jerusalem during a religious festival, sent the man out into the crowds doing something that was clearly a violation of Sabbath law, and then made sure that he could be found seems to point to the conclusion that being accused and persecuted was the main motivation for the entire incident.
So is the man who was healed nothing more than a pawn? It is hard to believe that Jesus would behave in such a calculating manner, but the business of miracles is complicated. The idea of the man being healed sounds good on the surface, but what about all of those who were gathered around the pool who were not healed? Wouldn’t have been an even bigger affront to the religious officials if Jesus had healed all of them? That is the problem with miracles -- they aren’t fair. There is also the idea that if God can choose to heal, God also chooses not to heal. In a few instances, Jesus told people, “Your faith has made you well.” That sounds good until one considers that those who are not healed just must not have enough faith, which puts the responsibility for healing squarely on humans and not God. As I mentioned earlier, Jesus tells this man not to sin anymore so that nothing worse happens to him. This goes against what Jesus says when he heals the blind man in John 9 when the disciples ask who had sinned, the man or his parents, that he had been born blind. I could go around and around on the subject of miracles and healings all night, but the hot dishes await, so I will move forward.
The most striking part of this particular healing is the question that Jesus asks the man: “Do you want to be made well?” This seems like a silly question; of course the man doesn’t want to continue laying by the pool while others walk over him, yet the man doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he tells Jesus about his reality. Is he trying to show Jesus that he has done all that he can to be made well? Is he explaining that being well is not a possibility? Has he given up? Maybe he has gotten so used to being helpless that he cannot imagine being healed and the idea scares him. This question is relevant to us as we examine our faith. Do we want God to make us well? I am not talking about physical healing, but embracing the way of life that Jesus tells us will lead to eternity with Him. Or are we ready with excuses about how difficult it is to make our way in this complicated and scary world? Jesus doesn’t bother to lecture the man on the folly of waiting helplessly by the pool for healing from a false God. He simply heals him -- making him a new person. The same offer is made to us. Are we interested? AMEN
So is the man who was healed nothing more than a pawn? It is hard to believe that Jesus would behave in such a calculating manner, but the business of miracles is complicated. The idea of the man being healed sounds good on the surface, but what about all of those who were gathered around the pool who were not healed? Wouldn’t have been an even bigger affront to the religious officials if Jesus had healed all of them? That is the problem with miracles -- they aren’t fair. There is also the idea that if God can choose to heal, God also chooses not to heal. In a few instances, Jesus told people, “Your faith has made you well.” That sounds good until one considers that those who are not healed just must not have enough faith, which puts the responsibility for healing squarely on humans and not God. As I mentioned earlier, Jesus tells this man not to sin anymore so that nothing worse happens to him. This goes against what Jesus says when he heals the blind man in John 9 when the disciples ask who had sinned, the man or his parents, that he had been born blind. I could go around and around on the subject of miracles and healings all night, but the hot dishes await, so I will move forward.
The most striking part of this particular healing is the question that Jesus asks the man: “Do you want to be made well?” This seems like a silly question; of course the man doesn’t want to continue laying by the pool while others walk over him, yet the man doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he tells Jesus about his reality. Is he trying to show Jesus that he has done all that he can to be made well? Is he explaining that being well is not a possibility? Has he given up? Maybe he has gotten so used to being helpless that he cannot imagine being healed and the idea scares him. This question is relevant to us as we examine our faith. Do we want God to make us well? I am not talking about physical healing, but embracing the way of life that Jesus tells us will lead to eternity with Him. Or are we ready with excuses about how difficult it is to make our way in this complicated and scary world? Jesus doesn’t bother to lecture the man on the folly of waiting helplessly by the pool for healing from a false God. He simply heals him -- making him a new person. The same offer is made to us. Are we interested? AMEN
The book of Acts is the story of the early church -- of how Peter and Paul spread what we call Christianity. It shows how faith is meant for both Jews and Gentiles, and how the Holy Spirit worked in the lives of early believers. The longest story in Acts is that of Peter and Cornelius. Cornelius was something called a “God-fearer,” which meant that, although he didn’t follow the dietary restrictions and other laws of the Jewish faith, he did attend synagogue and believe in the Jewish God. Peter was, of course, the same disciple who almost walked on water, who denied Jesus three times, and who jumped out of the boat fully clothed to greet Jesus on the beach. Although he didn’t follow all of the rules, it seems that Cornelius did observe regular times of prayer. In this instance, during the afternoon prayer he is told to send for Peter in Joppa, where he is staying with Simon the tanner. As a side note, that is an interesting choice on Peter’s part, since tanners are considered unclean. Meanwhile, Peter is having a vision. In the vision, a giant sheet full of animals descends, and a voice says, “Peter, kill and eat.” Many of these animals are forbidden by Jewish law, so Peter says, “no way! I have never eaten anything unclean before, and I’m most certainly not going to start now!” This repeats three times, making it clear that it is important, that Peter is as stubborn as ever, and that Peter isn’t afraid to admit his mistakes. The incident includes the voice saying, "What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” Just as the rooster crowed the third time that Peter denied Jesus, there is a knock at the door the third time that Peter refuses God. To his credit, Peter listens when the spirit tells him to go with them. He and six others go with the three messengers to see Cornelius.
When they arrive, Peter still has no idea why he was there, but he enters the house anyway, in spite of the fact that doing so is not approved behavior. Cornelius reports that an angel has appeared to them, saying, "Send to Joppa and bring Simon, who is called Peter; he will give you a message by which you and your entire household will be saved.” As soon as Peter begins to speak, the spirit descends on everyone in the house. Again to his credit, Peter remembers how it had been with himself and the other apostles at Pentecost. Instead of continuing to speak and attempting to take the credit, he says, “If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?” He then proceeded to baptize everyone in the house. You might wonder why Peter needed to baptize them when the Holy Spirit had already done the work; I know that I do. For that matter, why did God need to send Peter to Cornelius when God had already spoken to Cornelius?
These questions seem especially important this morning as a baby is baptized and as we honor our graduates. The church leaders who ask Peter to explain himself at the beginning of our reading don’t seem that upset about the baptisms; after all, they viewed baptism as a sign of repentance, and who needed to repent more than the Gentiles? They were upset that Peter took it to the next level -- confirming Jesus words, “John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” This kind of baptism doesn’t confer, but rather confirms that we have been chosen by the Spirit. In addition, it was not Peter who is receiving the baptized, but the church doing so in the name of Jesus Christ. At the end of the story, not only is Cornelius changed along with many of his friends and family, so is Peter. The response of the questioners, "Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life." shows that there is still room for improvement! AMEN
When they arrive, Peter still has no idea why he was there, but he enters the house anyway, in spite of the fact that doing so is not approved behavior. Cornelius reports that an angel has appeared to them, saying, "Send to Joppa and bring Simon, who is called Peter; he will give you a message by which you and your entire household will be saved.” As soon as Peter begins to speak, the spirit descends on everyone in the house. Again to his credit, Peter remembers how it had been with himself and the other apostles at Pentecost. Instead of continuing to speak and attempting to take the credit, he says, “If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?” He then proceeded to baptize everyone in the house. You might wonder why Peter needed to baptize them when the Holy Spirit had already done the work; I know that I do. For that matter, why did God need to send Peter to Cornelius when God had already spoken to Cornelius?
These questions seem especially important this morning as a baby is baptized and as we honor our graduates. The church leaders who ask Peter to explain himself at the beginning of our reading don’t seem that upset about the baptisms; after all, they viewed baptism as a sign of repentance, and who needed to repent more than the Gentiles? They were upset that Peter took it to the next level -- confirming Jesus words, “John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” This kind of baptism doesn’t confer, but rather confirms that we have been chosen by the Spirit. In addition, it was not Peter who is receiving the baptized, but the church doing so in the name of Jesus Christ. At the end of the story, not only is Cornelius changed along with many of his friends and family, so is Peter. The response of the questioners, "Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life." shows that there is still room for improvement! AMEN
In last week’s gospel, the resurrected Jesus appeared to 7 of the disciples, but “none of them dared ask him who he was, because they knew he was the Lord.” In today’s reading, some of the Jews say to Jesus, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” It seems that those who believe don’t want to know, and that those who don’t believe do want to know the identity of Jesus. Jesus’ reply is loaded: "I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father's name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.”
The first part of this response is straightforward; if you have to ask, you will never know. If you have seen what I have done -- if you have noticed that I have always given credit to God -- if you have listened to my parables -- if you have given any attention at all to how I have lived my life, then you have already made up your mind. No answer that I can give will convince you to change it. It is easy to see the truth in this. We tend to accept evidence of what we believe and dismiss evidence of what we don’t believe.
The second part of the answer is more complex -- “you do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” This sets up a sort of chicken-and-egg dilemma: which comes first, the hearing or the sheepiness? Do we follow Jesus because we are Christians, or are we Christians because we follow Jesus? Be careful with your answer -- you wouldn’t want to say that you could do anything to earn Christ’s favor, would you?
I am comfortable saying that most of us here have attended multiple church services, participated in some sort of Christian education at some point in our lives, and have at least a passing familiarity with the Bible. We likely take it for granted that most of the people in our community have similar backgrounds, but that simply isn’t true. It is obvious that fewer people are going to church, but it is also true that fewer and fewer Americans are identifying with any form of Christianity. Now let’s imagine that we are interested in doing something about that. Keep in mind that Jesus only managed to train 12 followers in a three-year ministry, and one of them betrayed him. Remember, too, that although we have many gifts of the spirit, none of us can restore sight to the blind, heal the sick, raise the dead, walk on water that isn’t frozen, or turn water into wine. Our mission statement is, “Serving together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond.”
We could invite them to church, but what would they make of it? Just think about today’s readings: Where in the world are Lydda and Joppa? Why does a character need two different names in the same story? What is a tanner? How do you make something whiter by washing it in blood? What is a festival of Dedication? What is a portico?... That is to say nothing of the King James version of the 23rd Psalm. No, I don’t think that inviting them to church is going to do it.
Jesus did it by sending out his disciples. How did they do it? By telling the stories of their personal encounters with Christ. Even Paul, who wasn’t one of the 12, had his conversion story and claimed to have become an Apostle through dreams and visions. If we are serious about our mission, we need to do the same. We need to tell the story of our personal encounters with Christ to those who have yet to have any of their own. It also wouldn’t hurt to be able to point to some works that we have done in our Father’s name. AMEN
The first part of this response is straightforward; if you have to ask, you will never know. If you have seen what I have done -- if you have noticed that I have always given credit to God -- if you have listened to my parables -- if you have given any attention at all to how I have lived my life, then you have already made up your mind. No answer that I can give will convince you to change it. It is easy to see the truth in this. We tend to accept evidence of what we believe and dismiss evidence of what we don’t believe.
The second part of the answer is more complex -- “you do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” This sets up a sort of chicken-and-egg dilemma: which comes first, the hearing or the sheepiness? Do we follow Jesus because we are Christians, or are we Christians because we follow Jesus? Be careful with your answer -- you wouldn’t want to say that you could do anything to earn Christ’s favor, would you?
I am comfortable saying that most of us here have attended multiple church services, participated in some sort of Christian education at some point in our lives, and have at least a passing familiarity with the Bible. We likely take it for granted that most of the people in our community have similar backgrounds, but that simply isn’t true. It is obvious that fewer people are going to church, but it is also true that fewer and fewer Americans are identifying with any form of Christianity. Now let’s imagine that we are interested in doing something about that. Keep in mind that Jesus only managed to train 12 followers in a three-year ministry, and one of them betrayed him. Remember, too, that although we have many gifts of the spirit, none of us can restore sight to the blind, heal the sick, raise the dead, walk on water that isn’t frozen, or turn water into wine. Our mission statement is, “Serving together to make Jesus known in our communities and beyond.”
We could invite them to church, but what would they make of it? Just think about today’s readings: Where in the world are Lydda and Joppa? Why does a character need two different names in the same story? What is a tanner? How do you make something whiter by washing it in blood? What is a festival of Dedication? What is a portico?... That is to say nothing of the King James version of the 23rd Psalm. No, I don’t think that inviting them to church is going to do it.
Jesus did it by sending out his disciples. How did they do it? By telling the stories of their personal encounters with Christ. Even Paul, who wasn’t one of the 12, had his conversion story and claimed to have become an Apostle through dreams and visions. If we are serious about our mission, we need to do the same. We need to tell the story of our personal encounters with Christ to those who have yet to have any of their own. It also wouldn’t hurt to be able to point to some works that we have done in our Father’s name. AMEN
Considering their importance to our faith, we know very little about the 12 disciples; we don’t even know the names of all twelve with certainty. By some reckonings, there were two Simons, two Jameses and two Judases, so it is difficult to keep track of who is who. Was John, the son of Zebedee and brother of James the same John who wrote the Gospel of John, the beloved disciple, and/or John of Patmos who wrote the book of Revelations? Rather than attempting to keep it all straight, let’s focus on what we do know about the disciples who are named in today’s Gospel: Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, and the sons of Zebedee. We remember Thomas from last week, stubbornly insisting that he would not believe that Christ had risen until he saw it for himself, and then taking his belief to the next level when he saw Jesus. The only thing that I remember about Nathanael is that he asked if anything good could come from Nazareth. The sons of Zebedee were fishing partners with Peter, and their mother asked Jesus if they could sit at his right and left hands in Heaven. Along with the two unnamed disciples, we have the story of 7 of the remaining eleven disciples going fishing at the suggestion of Simon Peter.
My favorite thing about this scene is its ordinariness. The disciples are surely exhausted and probably crabby after a night of unsuccessful fishing. Although they have seen the risen Jesus and he has breathed the Holy Spirit on them, and sent them forth, they have hesitated. Part of this must be because of Peter, whose guilt over the denial of Jesus has yet to be addressed. Peter is the disciple most likely to take the role of leadership -- we know that he is to be the founder of the church -- so he needs to have his moment with Jesus before the disciples can move forward.
It is the beloved disciple who first recognizes Jesus as the man who has told them to cast the net on the other side of the boat, causing Peter to get dressed, leap into the sea, and swim/wade/run the 100 yards to Jesus. Most likely, the boat reached the shore as quickly as Peter did. Jesus invites them to add from their catch to the meal of fish and bread that he has prepared over a charcoal fire. This details are surely included to remind us of the feeding of the 5,000 and the charcoal fire over which Peter first denied Jesus. Peter runs back to the boat and single-handedly pulls in the straining but not tearing netful of fish. Jesus says simple, “Come and have breakfast.” which is followed by the puzzling line, “Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, "Who are you?" because they knew it was the Lord.” Of course, Thomas has had his moment, so they may be waiting to take their cue from Peter.
After breakfast, Jesus addresses Peter, but not by that name which he had given him. He says, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” Did your mother ever address you formally unless you were in trouble? I always knew that I was in trouble when my mom used my full name. Think about the question itself. Jesus could have asked Peter to promise never to betray him again, to try to reign in his impulsivity so that he could become a better leader, or to admit that he had been wrong. Instead, he asks simply, “Do you love me more than these?” We don’t know who or what he means by “these,” it could be the fishing equipment or the fish.He could be asking Peter if he loves Jesus more than he loves the other disciples, or if he loves Jesus more than the other disciples do -- it doesn’t really matter. Instead of saying “yes,” Peter answers, “You know I do.” Again, Jesus asks the same question and receives the same answer. Peter is hurt when he has asked the third time, yet he doesn’t really change his answer. He never asks for forgiveness, and Jesus never truly offers it except by letting Peter affirm his faith three times. There must be something more important to Peter’s future than forgiveness. Perhaps it is the mission: feed my lambs, tend my lambs, feed my sheep. Maybe Jesus doesn’t explicitly forgive Peter because he knows that, like all of us, Peter stands in constant need of forgiveness. Regardless, he is being sent forth once again as an apostle, and what does it mean to feed and tend Jesus’ sheep?
It is surely more than buying a bag of feed and pouring it into a bunk as I do here on Sunday mornings. It involves creating the conditions in which the sheep will thrive: caring for the surrounding creation -- the soil and water, keeping an eye on them so that they do not wander off, get sick, or become meals for predators, taking care of their needs before worrying about your own comfort. We struggle with failure and doubt just as Peter did, and Jesus comes to us in the world just as he came to Peter and the other disciples not in worship, but in their daily lives -- in their very attempts to move past the inconvenience that their faith has brought them. Just as surely and simply as Jesus asked Peter, he asks each of us, “Do you love me?” AMEN
My favorite thing about this scene is its ordinariness. The disciples are surely exhausted and probably crabby after a night of unsuccessful fishing. Although they have seen the risen Jesus and he has breathed the Holy Spirit on them, and sent them forth, they have hesitated. Part of this must be because of Peter, whose guilt over the denial of Jesus has yet to be addressed. Peter is the disciple most likely to take the role of leadership -- we know that he is to be the founder of the church -- so he needs to have his moment with Jesus before the disciples can move forward.
It is the beloved disciple who first recognizes Jesus as the man who has told them to cast the net on the other side of the boat, causing Peter to get dressed, leap into the sea, and swim/wade/run the 100 yards to Jesus. Most likely, the boat reached the shore as quickly as Peter did. Jesus invites them to add from their catch to the meal of fish and bread that he has prepared over a charcoal fire. This details are surely included to remind us of the feeding of the 5,000 and the charcoal fire over which Peter first denied Jesus. Peter runs back to the boat and single-handedly pulls in the straining but not tearing netful of fish. Jesus says simple, “Come and have breakfast.” which is followed by the puzzling line, “Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, "Who are you?" because they knew it was the Lord.” Of course, Thomas has had his moment, so they may be waiting to take their cue from Peter.
After breakfast, Jesus addresses Peter, but not by that name which he had given him. He says, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” Did your mother ever address you formally unless you were in trouble? I always knew that I was in trouble when my mom used my full name. Think about the question itself. Jesus could have asked Peter to promise never to betray him again, to try to reign in his impulsivity so that he could become a better leader, or to admit that he had been wrong. Instead, he asks simply, “Do you love me more than these?” We don’t know who or what he means by “these,” it could be the fishing equipment or the fish.He could be asking Peter if he loves Jesus more than he loves the other disciples, or if he loves Jesus more than the other disciples do -- it doesn’t really matter. Instead of saying “yes,” Peter answers, “You know I do.” Again, Jesus asks the same question and receives the same answer. Peter is hurt when he has asked the third time, yet he doesn’t really change his answer. He never asks for forgiveness, and Jesus never truly offers it except by letting Peter affirm his faith three times. There must be something more important to Peter’s future than forgiveness. Perhaps it is the mission: feed my lambs, tend my lambs, feed my sheep. Maybe Jesus doesn’t explicitly forgive Peter because he knows that, like all of us, Peter stands in constant need of forgiveness. Regardless, he is being sent forth once again as an apostle, and what does it mean to feed and tend Jesus’ sheep?
It is surely more than buying a bag of feed and pouring it into a bunk as I do here on Sunday mornings. It involves creating the conditions in which the sheep will thrive: caring for the surrounding creation -- the soil and water, keeping an eye on them so that they do not wander off, get sick, or become meals for predators, taking care of their needs before worrying about your own comfort. We struggle with failure and doubt just as Peter did, and Jesus comes to us in the world just as he came to Peter and the other disciples not in worship, but in their daily lives -- in their very attempts to move past the inconvenience that their faith has brought them. Just as surely and simply as Jesus asked Peter, he asks each of us, “Do you love me?” AMEN
With the story of Thomas tacked on, it is easy to miss the message of the first half of today’s Gospel: “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." Now, the disciples never had anything even remotely like a confirmation class. For goodness sakes, they never even took first communion training!, but these words apply to those taking their first communion today and our confirmands (along with the rest of us) just as surely they did to the disciples. Baptism, first communion and confirmation are benchmarks in our faith journeys, but each of them is a beginning -- not an ending.
When we are baptized, our parents, sponsors, and the congregation promise to live with us among God’s faithful people, to bring us to church, to give us access to the Bible, and to pray with and for us so that we may learn to trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and to work for justice and peace. Today is about having the confirmands affirm that they are willing to take on their share of those promises.
The disciples are locked in a room when Jesus enters. We are not sure if John means the 11 remaining disciples or if the group was larger, but we do know that the group has heard that Jesus is no longer in the tomb, that some of those present have seen the empty tomb, that Mary Magdalene has told them about speaking to the risen Christ, and that they are afraid. What are they afraid of? John mentions “the Jews,” those responsible for the death of Jesus, but that fear didn’t stop two of the disciples from running to the tomb. As I mentioned last week, they were also afraid that they had been wrong to follow Jesus -- afraid that He was not the Messiah, but they know of the empty tomb and they have heard the witness of Mary Magdalene. Could it be that they are afraid of encountering Jesus? After all, what will he think of them now that they have betrayed him, denied him, hidden on the day of his crucifixion and now cower in the very room in which he washed their feet at the Last Supper? Could it be that Thomas is not there because he is the only one brave enough to actually go out and seek the truth about Jesus? Remember, it was Thomas who said as the disciples headed to Bethany for the raising of Lazarus, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
Imagine being in the upper room when Jesus appeared. Was his appearance dramatic enough that everyone noticed it immediately, or did it take a while for them to figure it out? Once they did notice, it must have been chaos, which Jesus stilled with the simple words, “Peace be with you.” More chaos as the disciples rejoice, which Jesus stills with another, “Peace be with you.” Are you seeing a pattern here? It is at this point that Jesus gives them their marching orders. Like our confirmands today, they are given responsibility for applying their faith to their lives. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” We are the hands and feet of God -- the body of Christ. If Christianity is to spread and grow and thrive, it must do so through each of us. God’s work on earth is done through us. The breath of the Spirit recalls the creation of the world, the creation of Adam, and the renewal of the dry bones. In Christ, we are a new creation, and we are accompanied in the world by the Holy Spirit. “This is the beginning of the church: By appearing to these men, breathing on them, bestowing the spirit, sending them, Jesus passed on the authority that he was born for -- died and rose again to give -- the gift of forgiveness.” and that is our message to all people: Anyone who is repentant and desires the forgiveness of sins by trusting in Christ receives forgiveness, but no one will be forced to repent -- they can chose to retain the comfort of their sinfulness.
The final “Peace be with you” is for us and the disciples to carry into the world. Just as Jesus used common bread and wine as an eternal connection to his body and blood, he used a common greeting, “Peace be with you” to remind us of the eternal presence of the Holy Spirit. AMEN
When we are baptized, our parents, sponsors, and the congregation promise to live with us among God’s faithful people, to bring us to church, to give us access to the Bible, and to pray with and for us so that we may learn to trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and to work for justice and peace. Today is about having the confirmands affirm that they are willing to take on their share of those promises.
The disciples are locked in a room when Jesus enters. We are not sure if John means the 11 remaining disciples or if the group was larger, but we do know that the group has heard that Jesus is no longer in the tomb, that some of those present have seen the empty tomb, that Mary Magdalene has told them about speaking to the risen Christ, and that they are afraid. What are they afraid of? John mentions “the Jews,” those responsible for the death of Jesus, but that fear didn’t stop two of the disciples from running to the tomb. As I mentioned last week, they were also afraid that they had been wrong to follow Jesus -- afraid that He was not the Messiah, but they know of the empty tomb and they have heard the witness of Mary Magdalene. Could it be that they are afraid of encountering Jesus? After all, what will he think of them now that they have betrayed him, denied him, hidden on the day of his crucifixion and now cower in the very room in which he washed their feet at the Last Supper? Could it be that Thomas is not there because he is the only one brave enough to actually go out and seek the truth about Jesus? Remember, it was Thomas who said as the disciples headed to Bethany for the raising of Lazarus, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
Imagine being in the upper room when Jesus appeared. Was his appearance dramatic enough that everyone noticed it immediately, or did it take a while for them to figure it out? Once they did notice, it must have been chaos, which Jesus stilled with the simple words, “Peace be with you.” More chaos as the disciples rejoice, which Jesus stills with another, “Peace be with you.” Are you seeing a pattern here? It is at this point that Jesus gives them their marching orders. Like our confirmands today, they are given responsibility for applying their faith to their lives. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” We are the hands and feet of God -- the body of Christ. If Christianity is to spread and grow and thrive, it must do so through each of us. God’s work on earth is done through us. The breath of the Spirit recalls the creation of the world, the creation of Adam, and the renewal of the dry bones. In Christ, we are a new creation, and we are accompanied in the world by the Holy Spirit. “This is the beginning of the church: By appearing to these men, breathing on them, bestowing the spirit, sending them, Jesus passed on the authority that he was born for -- died and rose again to give -- the gift of forgiveness.” and that is our message to all people: Anyone who is repentant and desires the forgiveness of sins by trusting in Christ receives forgiveness, but no one will be forced to repent -- they can chose to retain the comfort of their sinfulness.
The final “Peace be with you” is for us and the disciples to carry into the world. Just as Jesus used common bread and wine as an eternal connection to his body and blood, he used a common greeting, “Peace be with you” to remind us of the eternal presence of the Holy Spirit. AMEN
It is Easter morning and you have gathered to hear the story of the resurrection just as people have been doing for generations. It is part of the deal, along with colored eggs, egg bake in the basement, a big meal (probably including ham), and Easter baskets for the kids. Sometimes I wonder if the Easter bunny and Jesus aren’t viewed as equal participants in the Easter tradition. It is easy to forget that before they became the Bible, the stories of Scripture were lived. Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Peter and the Beloved Disciple were real people -- not characters in a book -- and only one of them was the incarnate God. The others were regular people like you and me. I ask that you reset your mind this morning from riding along with the familiarity of the story to considering the fact that this, the most important event in the history of the world, really happened.
Imagine being one of the disciples on that Sunday morning. I don’t mean only the twelve, but any of the larger group who followed Jesus throughout his ministry and into Jerusalem. Jesus, your friend, teacher, brother, and hero has just died a terrible death and you did nothing to help him. Unless you were one of the three Marys or the Beloved disciple, you probably ran and hid at the moment of truth. Now you find yourself in a strange, hostile town filled with shame and despair. You walked away from your old life to follow Jesus, and now he is gone and you are surely not worthy to carry on his legacy. You likely feel foolish for having believed and followed Jesus, ashamed of your cowardice, and bewildered as to what you should do next. This is the setting, as our Gospel begins with the words, “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.”
Mary has waited as long as she can; in spite of the darkness, both of the night and of despair, Mary walks to the tomb. She has no job to do at the tomb; Jesus’ body had been prepared and wrapped by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. She is not bringing flowers to place on the grave. She simply needs to be near Jesus. When she finds that the stone has been rolled away, she doesn’t even take the time to look inside. She runs to tell the disciples, “They have taken the Lord our of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” This is a catastrophe. Not only is Jesus dead, there is nothing left of him -- no place that is not empty of him. In the words of Paul Simpson Duke, “His tomb is gutted. Its horribly open mouth taunts Mary with news not just of death but of nothingness. The evidence is that the claims and promises of Jesus were, like his tomb, empty.”
This is the last straw -- rock bottom. Darkness has overcome the light. “They have taken the Lord our of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Who are they? Had they been wrong to trust Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, members of the Sanhedrin with Jesus’ body? Was this the work of grave robbers or something more sinister -- a plot to completely and finally discredit Jesus? Thus begins the running. Mary runs to tell Peter and the Beloved Disciple, who, in turn, run to the tomb. These three are stuck in the middle between the mysterious “they” and Jesus. This is the running of confusion, of bewilderment, of hope, of fear, of desperation, of longing. Once they have seen the empty tomb for themselves, the two disciples return to their homes.
Mary, on the other hand, has returned to the tomb, where she stands weeping. She looks inside and two angels ask her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Instead of unloading the whole burden of her frustrated hopes, her guilt and her fear for the future, she repeats, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Then she turns and sees Jesus, but she does not recognize him, even when he asks her “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” According to Duke, “She has no idea and is walking away, when Jesus simply calls her name: ‘Mary.’ It stops her in her tracks; the truth breaks through; she turns, and the risen Christ fills her vision. In John’s Gospel, this is the moment when the resurrection is declared. No angels have announced that Jesus is risen. His calling of her name IS that announcement. This announcement is made not by telling her who he is, but by his appeal to who she is.”
As I close, I would like to draw your attention to the final words of Jesus in this passage: "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'” As you leave church today, remember to take Jesus with you. It is not the job of the church or of Christians to hold on to Jesus, but to bring Him into the world. AMEN
Imagine being one of the disciples on that Sunday morning. I don’t mean only the twelve, but any of the larger group who followed Jesus throughout his ministry and into Jerusalem. Jesus, your friend, teacher, brother, and hero has just died a terrible death and you did nothing to help him. Unless you were one of the three Marys or the Beloved disciple, you probably ran and hid at the moment of truth. Now you find yourself in a strange, hostile town filled with shame and despair. You walked away from your old life to follow Jesus, and now he is gone and you are surely not worthy to carry on his legacy. You likely feel foolish for having believed and followed Jesus, ashamed of your cowardice, and bewildered as to what you should do next. This is the setting, as our Gospel begins with the words, “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.”
Mary has waited as long as she can; in spite of the darkness, both of the night and of despair, Mary walks to the tomb. She has no job to do at the tomb; Jesus’ body had been prepared and wrapped by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. She is not bringing flowers to place on the grave. She simply needs to be near Jesus. When she finds that the stone has been rolled away, she doesn’t even take the time to look inside. She runs to tell the disciples, “They have taken the Lord our of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” This is a catastrophe. Not only is Jesus dead, there is nothing left of him -- no place that is not empty of him. In the words of Paul Simpson Duke, “His tomb is gutted. Its horribly open mouth taunts Mary with news not just of death but of nothingness. The evidence is that the claims and promises of Jesus were, like his tomb, empty.”
This is the last straw -- rock bottom. Darkness has overcome the light. “They have taken the Lord our of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Who are they? Had they been wrong to trust Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, members of the Sanhedrin with Jesus’ body? Was this the work of grave robbers or something more sinister -- a plot to completely and finally discredit Jesus? Thus begins the running. Mary runs to tell Peter and the Beloved Disciple, who, in turn, run to the tomb. These three are stuck in the middle between the mysterious “they” and Jesus. This is the running of confusion, of bewilderment, of hope, of fear, of desperation, of longing. Once they have seen the empty tomb for themselves, the two disciples return to their homes.
Mary, on the other hand, has returned to the tomb, where she stands weeping. She looks inside and two angels ask her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Instead of unloading the whole burden of her frustrated hopes, her guilt and her fear for the future, she repeats, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Then she turns and sees Jesus, but she does not recognize him, even when he asks her “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” According to Duke, “She has no idea and is walking away, when Jesus simply calls her name: ‘Mary.’ It stops her in her tracks; the truth breaks through; she turns, and the risen Christ fills her vision. In John’s Gospel, this is the moment when the resurrection is declared. No angels have announced that Jesus is risen. His calling of her name IS that announcement. This announcement is made not by telling her who he is, but by his appeal to who she is.”
As I close, I would like to draw your attention to the final words of Jesus in this passage: "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'” As you leave church today, remember to take Jesus with you. It is not the job of the church or of Christians to hold on to Jesus, but to bring Him into the world. AMEN
It seems to me that Palm Sunday is usually described in the following terms: Jesus, riding a donkey and accompanied by a crowd of followers, enters Jerusalem. The masses, convinced that he is the Messiah, but misunderstanding what that really means, respond with shouts of, “Hosana!” When they realize that Jesus is not going to lead them in overthrowing the Roman Empire, they turn on him and their shouts become, “crucify him!” While there is truth to this description, it comes up short because it assumes that everyone in the crowd thinks alike.
Today we have read the story of Palm Sunday from the Gospel of Matthew. Shortly before this passage, Jesus has told the disciples, “see, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified; and on the third day he will be raised.” This is the third time that Jesus foretells his death and resurrection in Matthew. The beginning of today’s story makes it clear that Jesus is carrying out plans that he has made ahead of time. He is not waiting for those who want to kill him; he is initiating his own coronation and crucifixion.
The response of the disciples is diverse: James’ and John’s mother then asks that her boys sit at the right and left hands of Jesus when he ascends into heaven, which makes the other ten angry. As they are leaving Jericho, they add two more followers to the crowd; two blind men ask for and receive healing. The multitudes that are with Jesus as he enters Jerusalem are a mix of the crowds that have been following him throughout his ministry: those who have been healed from incurable diseases, witnesses of the feeding of the 5,000, people who had listened to his preaching and parables, the larger group of disciples beyond the twelve, and those who simply fell in with the crowd during the journey. One thing that does seem clear about this crowd is that they are common people who are honoring Jesus as best they can -- laying down their cloaks and cutting branches to put on the road and chanting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
When this crowd gets to the edge of Jerusalem, there is confusion. Everyone seems to take notice of Jesus, but there were a variety of reactions. Some were probably impressed with the size of the crowd, others likely laughed at the sight of a man riding a donkey colt; Some were probably ecstatic that the savior of the chosen people had arrived, while others were jealous of the attention that Jesus was getting -- like the crowd travelling with Jesus, they were a diverse bunch. Regardless, they seem united in the question, “Who is this?” The crowd answers the question together -- “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” In the next verses, Jesus enters the temple, drives out those who are buying and selling, and begins curing the lame and blind, angering the chief priests and scribes. Again we have a mix of reactions to Jesus.
That is where Palm Sunday leaves us. We too are a diverse bunch, wondering what to make of Jesus. Do we join the crowds in shouting “Hosanna” which means “save now?” We might think that by celebrating Palm Sunday we are proving that we understand Jesus in a way that those who lived alongside him failed to do, but do we really? I will close with some controversial words from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who struggled to understand how God could allow the atrocities of the Holocaust: “God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross; He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us.” AMEN
Today we have read the story of Palm Sunday from the Gospel of Matthew. Shortly before this passage, Jesus has told the disciples, “see, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified; and on the third day he will be raised.” This is the third time that Jesus foretells his death and resurrection in Matthew. The beginning of today’s story makes it clear that Jesus is carrying out plans that he has made ahead of time. He is not waiting for those who want to kill him; he is initiating his own coronation and crucifixion.
The response of the disciples is diverse: James’ and John’s mother then asks that her boys sit at the right and left hands of Jesus when he ascends into heaven, which makes the other ten angry. As they are leaving Jericho, they add two more followers to the crowd; two blind men ask for and receive healing. The multitudes that are with Jesus as he enters Jerusalem are a mix of the crowds that have been following him throughout his ministry: those who have been healed from incurable diseases, witnesses of the feeding of the 5,000, people who had listened to his preaching and parables, the larger group of disciples beyond the twelve, and those who simply fell in with the crowd during the journey. One thing that does seem clear about this crowd is that they are common people who are honoring Jesus as best they can -- laying down their cloaks and cutting branches to put on the road and chanting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
When this crowd gets to the edge of Jerusalem, there is confusion. Everyone seems to take notice of Jesus, but there were a variety of reactions. Some were probably impressed with the size of the crowd, others likely laughed at the sight of a man riding a donkey colt; Some were probably ecstatic that the savior of the chosen people had arrived, while others were jealous of the attention that Jesus was getting -- like the crowd travelling with Jesus, they were a diverse bunch. Regardless, they seem united in the question, “Who is this?” The crowd answers the question together -- “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” In the next verses, Jesus enters the temple, drives out those who are buying and selling, and begins curing the lame and blind, angering the chief priests and scribes. Again we have a mix of reactions to Jesus.
That is where Palm Sunday leaves us. We too are a diverse bunch, wondering what to make of Jesus. Do we join the crowds in shouting “Hosanna” which means “save now?” We might think that by celebrating Palm Sunday we are proving that we understand Jesus in a way that those who lived alongside him failed to do, but do we really? I will close with some controversial words from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who struggled to understand how God could allow the atrocities of the Holocaust: “God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross; He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us.” AMEN
“Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”
“This one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus”
The theme of the readings this week is moving forward instead of dwelling on the past.
In John’s Gospel, the life of Jesus takes a radical turn with the simple statement, “Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha.” The resurrection of Lazarus causes the religious officials to decide that they simply cannot let Jesus become anymore popular and powerful. They hope that he will come to Jerusalem for the Passover so that they can kill him. Jesus has gone into hiding with the disciples, and all the talk is of whether he will dare to show his face again.
Chapter 12 begins six days before the passover; the first 33 years of Jesus’ life have taken 11 chapters -- the final week will take 8. Jesus has come out of hiding, returning to “the scene of the crime”, Bethany, which is only a couple of miles from Jerusalem. The scene in today’s Gospel launches the final week of Jesus’ earthly life with a simple meal with friends. Martha, of course, serves the meal while Lazarus is reclining at the table with Jesus. One can only imagine the conversation at the table: a mix of gratitude for what Jesus has done and fear for his safety along with the usual small talk among friends who don’t see each other as often as they would like. The disciples were probably jockeying to share stories of their adventures with Jesus and to brag of their contributions to his ministry. I get the feeling, though, that none of these people really yet understood who Jesus was or his commitment to traveling those last couple of miles to meet his fate.
In the midst of this, Mary takes a pound of perfume, anoints Jesus’ feet and wipes them with her hair. This is a shocking act on many levels, and it reveals the values of those involved. The perfume is expensive, and there is a lot of it; the fragrance fills the entire room. It must have reminded them of the recent stench of the dead Lazarus. In one action, Mary has anointed Jesus as king and prepared him for burial. This reminds me of the words of committal from the funeral service: “When we were baptized into Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” Mary doesn’t understand all of this. She simply takes advantage of the opportunity to honor this dear man while he is there.
Judas brings a different set of values to the scene by pointing out that the money could have been put to better use. Before we condemn him, I would ask you to consider what would happen if someone gave the church a gift of $50,000.00, the median yearly income in this area. Forget the fact that Judas was a thief for the time being and just think about what you would suggest that we do with the money. There are a couple of houses listed in that price range in Montevideo. Maybe we could buy one and give it to a homeless family. The list of charities to which we could donate is almost endless. We could invest the money or create an endowment fund so that we could give out a little bit at a time for a long time. We could update and remodel the buildings, put money toward the cemetery perpetual fund, give the pastor and church secretary raises… What Judas has done is to create a false either/or choice, probably because he just couldn’t deal with the extravagance of Mary’s actions. We’ve been there before, haven’t we? Politicians hold thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraising dinners while the streets of Washington DC are full of homeless people. False equivalencies like this let us off the hook and can keep us from doing anything for anyone.
Jesus doesn’t fall into this trap. He sees Mary’s action for what it is: an act of unrestrained love. As Barclay says, “Love is not love if it nicely calculates the cost. Love gives its all, and love’s only regret is that it has not still more to give.” Mary somehow grasps that this is her last chance to show her love to Jesus, and she takes full advantage of it. To quote Barclay again, “One great truth about life: there are some things which we can do at almost any time, and there are some things which we will never do unless we grasp the chance to do them when it comes. There is a time for doing and for saying things, and when that time is past they can never be said and they can never be done.
As for the poor, we will never run out of opportunities to serve them. Even Judas did so. Do you remember what happened to the 30 pieces of silver that was given to Judas for betraying Jesus? He tried to give it back before he killed himself. The priests wanted nothing to do with blood money, so it was used to buy a potter’s field -- a place for those without friends or funds to be buried. AMEN
“This one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus”
The theme of the readings this week is moving forward instead of dwelling on the past.
In John’s Gospel, the life of Jesus takes a radical turn with the simple statement, “Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha.” The resurrection of Lazarus causes the religious officials to decide that they simply cannot let Jesus become anymore popular and powerful. They hope that he will come to Jerusalem for the Passover so that they can kill him. Jesus has gone into hiding with the disciples, and all the talk is of whether he will dare to show his face again.
Chapter 12 begins six days before the passover; the first 33 years of Jesus’ life have taken 11 chapters -- the final week will take 8. Jesus has come out of hiding, returning to “the scene of the crime”, Bethany, which is only a couple of miles from Jerusalem. The scene in today’s Gospel launches the final week of Jesus’ earthly life with a simple meal with friends. Martha, of course, serves the meal while Lazarus is reclining at the table with Jesus. One can only imagine the conversation at the table: a mix of gratitude for what Jesus has done and fear for his safety along with the usual small talk among friends who don’t see each other as often as they would like. The disciples were probably jockeying to share stories of their adventures with Jesus and to brag of their contributions to his ministry. I get the feeling, though, that none of these people really yet understood who Jesus was or his commitment to traveling those last couple of miles to meet his fate.
In the midst of this, Mary takes a pound of perfume, anoints Jesus’ feet and wipes them with her hair. This is a shocking act on many levels, and it reveals the values of those involved. The perfume is expensive, and there is a lot of it; the fragrance fills the entire room. It must have reminded them of the recent stench of the dead Lazarus. In one action, Mary has anointed Jesus as king and prepared him for burial. This reminds me of the words of committal from the funeral service: “When we were baptized into Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” Mary doesn’t understand all of this. She simply takes advantage of the opportunity to honor this dear man while he is there.
Judas brings a different set of values to the scene by pointing out that the money could have been put to better use. Before we condemn him, I would ask you to consider what would happen if someone gave the church a gift of $50,000.00, the median yearly income in this area. Forget the fact that Judas was a thief for the time being and just think about what you would suggest that we do with the money. There are a couple of houses listed in that price range in Montevideo. Maybe we could buy one and give it to a homeless family. The list of charities to which we could donate is almost endless. We could invest the money or create an endowment fund so that we could give out a little bit at a time for a long time. We could update and remodel the buildings, put money toward the cemetery perpetual fund, give the pastor and church secretary raises… What Judas has done is to create a false either/or choice, probably because he just couldn’t deal with the extravagance of Mary’s actions. We’ve been there before, haven’t we? Politicians hold thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraising dinners while the streets of Washington DC are full of homeless people. False equivalencies like this let us off the hook and can keep us from doing anything for anyone.
Jesus doesn’t fall into this trap. He sees Mary’s action for what it is: an act of unrestrained love. As Barclay says, “Love is not love if it nicely calculates the cost. Love gives its all, and love’s only regret is that it has not still more to give.” Mary somehow grasps that this is her last chance to show her love to Jesus, and she takes full advantage of it. To quote Barclay again, “One great truth about life: there are some things which we can do at almost any time, and there are some things which we will never do unless we grasp the chance to do them when it comes. There is a time for doing and for saying things, and when that time is past they can never be said and they can never be done.
As for the poor, we will never run out of opportunities to serve them. Even Judas did so. Do you remember what happened to the 30 pieces of silver that was given to Judas for betraying Jesus? He tried to give it back before he killed himself. The priests wanted nothing to do with blood money, so it was used to buy a potter’s field -- a place for those without friends or funds to be buried. AMEN
Luke 15 begins,
15 Tax collectors and other notorious sinners often came to listen to Jesus teach. 2 This made the Pharisees and teachers of religious law complain that he was associating with such sinful people—even eating with them!
The three parables that follow are Jesus’ response to those who find the presence of sinners with Jesus to violate the nature and purpose of true religion. In fact, these people are not only in Jesus’ presence; he purposely associates with them. The issue, then, is table fellowship, breaking bread together being the sign and seal of full acceptance.”
Let me update the introduction a bit. Three clergy members are preparing to serve communion. The first says:
“To admit those who believe differently to our Communion, and so to our church fellowship, is a contradiction in itself. For those who approach the same altar together profess to be one—one in all points of Christian doctrine and practice—while in reality they disagree. It would be shameful
hypocrisy on our part if we would have those who actually profess a different faith than we do join us at the Lord’s Altar.”
The second says:
“Because the Lord’s Supper is an expression of our unity in faith, we invite to the Lord’s Supper only those who have expressed that unity with us through membership in our congregation or one of our sister congregations.”
The third says:
“Non-Catholics who receive the Eucharist, as well as those Catholics not in a state of grace, are saying with their body, "I am in full union with the Church," when in fact they are not. Reception of the greatest gift Christ intends to give to us therefore becomes an act of dishonesty and occasion of sin. One begins to understand why St. Paul warned against this so strongly.”
Returning to our text:
3 So Jesus told them this story: 4 “If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one that is lost until he finds it? 5 And when he has found it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders. 6 When he arrives, he will call together his friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!
Parable of the Lost Coin
8 “Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins[a] and loses one. Won’t she light a lamp and sweep the entire house and search carefully until she finds it? 9 And when she finds it, she will call in her friends and neighbors and say, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost coin.’ 10 In the same way, there is joy in the presence of God’s angels when even one sinner repents.”
Parable of the Lost Son
11 To illustrate the point further, Jesus told them this story: “A man had two sons. 12 The younger son told his father, ‘I want my share of your estate now before you die.’ So his father agreed to divide his wealth between his sons.
13 “A few days later this younger son packed all his belongings and moved to a distant land, and there he wasted all his money in wild living. 14 About the time his money ran out, a great famine swept over the land, and he began to starve. 15 He persuaded a local farmer to hire him, and the man sent him into his fields to feed the pigs. 16 The young man became so hungry that even the pods he was feeding the pigs looked good to him. But no one gave him anything.
17 “When he finally came to his senses, he said to himself, ‘At home even the hired servants have food enough to spare, and here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will go home to my father and say, “Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, 19 and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. Please take me on as a hired servant.”’
20 “So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. 21 His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son.[b]’
22 “But his father said to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. 23 And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, 24 for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began.
25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the fields working. When he returned home, he heard music and dancing in the house, 26 and he asked one of the servants what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother is back,’ he was told, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf. We are celebrating because of his safe return.’
28 “The older brother was angry and wouldn’t go in. His father came out and begged him, 29 but he replied, ‘All these years I’ve slaved for you and never once refused to do a single thing you told me to. And in all that time you never gave me even one young goat for a feast with my friends. 30 Yet when this son of yours comes back after squandering your money on prostitutes, you celebrate by killing the fattened calf!’
31 “His father said to him, ‘Look, dear son, you have always stayed by me, and everything I have is yours. 32 We had to celebrate this happy day. For your brother was dead and has come back to life! He was lost, but now he is found!’”
The three clergy reply, “We see your point, Jesus, but there is a flaw in your logic. The sheep could not help but wander off. It is merely a sheep from whom we cannot expect understanding. The coin is merely an object that has been misplaced. Of course we do our best to help those who lack understanding, and we understand the joy that comes from finding what has been lost, but the younger son in your third story -- he was made in your image, yet he CHOSE to wander off into a life of evil. Of course he should be welcomed back if he seems truly sorry for what he has done, but he is most certainly not ready to join us at the table. We agree with the older son that the loud music and dancing were a completely unacceptable response to his brother’s return. Like the father, we will go out to speak to each son, but we need some assurances before we can break bread with them.” AMEN
15 Tax collectors and other notorious sinners often came to listen to Jesus teach. 2 This made the Pharisees and teachers of religious law complain that he was associating with such sinful people—even eating with them!
The three parables that follow are Jesus’ response to those who find the presence of sinners with Jesus to violate the nature and purpose of true religion. In fact, these people are not only in Jesus’ presence; he purposely associates with them. The issue, then, is table fellowship, breaking bread together being the sign and seal of full acceptance.”
Let me update the introduction a bit. Three clergy members are preparing to serve communion. The first says:
“To admit those who believe differently to our Communion, and so to our church fellowship, is a contradiction in itself. For those who approach the same altar together profess to be one—one in all points of Christian doctrine and practice—while in reality they disagree. It would be shameful
hypocrisy on our part if we would have those who actually profess a different faith than we do join us at the Lord’s Altar.”
The second says:
“Because the Lord’s Supper is an expression of our unity in faith, we invite to the Lord’s Supper only those who have expressed that unity with us through membership in our congregation or one of our sister congregations.”
The third says:
“Non-Catholics who receive the Eucharist, as well as those Catholics not in a state of grace, are saying with their body, "I am in full union with the Church," when in fact they are not. Reception of the greatest gift Christ intends to give to us therefore becomes an act of dishonesty and occasion of sin. One begins to understand why St. Paul warned against this so strongly.”
Returning to our text:
3 So Jesus told them this story: 4 “If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one that is lost until he finds it? 5 And when he has found it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders. 6 When he arrives, he will call together his friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!
Parable of the Lost Coin
8 “Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins[a] and loses one. Won’t she light a lamp and sweep the entire house and search carefully until she finds it? 9 And when she finds it, she will call in her friends and neighbors and say, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost coin.’ 10 In the same way, there is joy in the presence of God’s angels when even one sinner repents.”
Parable of the Lost Son
11 To illustrate the point further, Jesus told them this story: “A man had two sons. 12 The younger son told his father, ‘I want my share of your estate now before you die.’ So his father agreed to divide his wealth between his sons.
13 “A few days later this younger son packed all his belongings and moved to a distant land, and there he wasted all his money in wild living. 14 About the time his money ran out, a great famine swept over the land, and he began to starve. 15 He persuaded a local farmer to hire him, and the man sent him into his fields to feed the pigs. 16 The young man became so hungry that even the pods he was feeding the pigs looked good to him. But no one gave him anything.
17 “When he finally came to his senses, he said to himself, ‘At home even the hired servants have food enough to spare, and here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will go home to my father and say, “Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, 19 and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. Please take me on as a hired servant.”’
20 “So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. 21 His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son.[b]’
22 “But his father said to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. 23 And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, 24 for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began.
25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the fields working. When he returned home, he heard music and dancing in the house, 26 and he asked one of the servants what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother is back,’ he was told, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf. We are celebrating because of his safe return.’
28 “The older brother was angry and wouldn’t go in. His father came out and begged him, 29 but he replied, ‘All these years I’ve slaved for you and never once refused to do a single thing you told me to. And in all that time you never gave me even one young goat for a feast with my friends. 30 Yet when this son of yours comes back after squandering your money on prostitutes, you celebrate by killing the fattened calf!’
31 “His father said to him, ‘Look, dear son, you have always stayed by me, and everything I have is yours. 32 We had to celebrate this happy day. For your brother was dead and has come back to life! He was lost, but now he is found!’”
The three clergy reply, “We see your point, Jesus, but there is a flaw in your logic. The sheep could not help but wander off. It is merely a sheep from whom we cannot expect understanding. The coin is merely an object that has been misplaced. Of course we do our best to help those who lack understanding, and we understand the joy that comes from finding what has been lost, but the younger son in your third story -- he was made in your image, yet he CHOSE to wander off into a life of evil. Of course he should be welcomed back if he seems truly sorry for what he has done, but he is most certainly not ready to join us at the table. We agree with the older son that the loud music and dancing were a completely unacceptable response to his brother’s return. Like the father, we will go out to speak to each son, but we need some assurances before we can break bread with them.” AMEN
The question of the relationship between sin and punishment has been around as long as people have understood the concept of sin. After the creation accounts, our earliest stories deal with the temptation and sin of Adam and Eve that results in their being kicked out of the garden. The first thing that God says to Adam is, “I will put enmity between you and the woman and between your offspring and hers.” God also provides some of the raw material for that enmity: pain in childbirth, the cursing of the ground causing the need for toil to raise food, thorns and thistles springing forth… Adam had come from the dust and was destined to work it until he returned to it. I imagine that he had a few choice words for Eve every time he spotted another thistle growing among his crops and she for him as Cain and Abel were born. There seems to be a logic to the idea of sin and consequence, and this is what is being brought up to Jesus at the beginning of the Gospel reading.
Someone asks about some Galileans who had been killed by Pilate, and Jesus replies, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” In case he has not been clear enough, he mentions eighteen people who were killed by the collapse of a tower in Jerusalem and says virtually the same thing, “do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” Whatever your ethnicity, whether the tragedy is brought about by an evil man or is a random accident, Jesus is making clear that we should not assume a correlation between sin and disaster. Sin does not make atrocities come. They just come. Instead of asking why, we need to see senseless death as a reminder of just how fragile life is. Of course we will all die. Jesus’ warning is that we will perish as they did -- unprepared. We should not mistake our good fortune as evidence of God's special blessing.
Jesus follows this up with the parable of the barren fig tree. Part of understanding a parable is finding ourselves in the story. It is pretty clear that we, like the original listeners, are the barren fig tree. The Israelites who heard this likely understood it as a warning that Jesus was their last chance: they had been given the Law with Moses, the prophets, and now the Son of God. To reject Jesus would amount to finally rejecting God. It is also important to find God in the parable. It is tempting to see God as the man who wants to destroy the tree for wasting the soil, but the work of Jesus is shown through the gardener pleading for a second chance and working with the tree to help it produce. Of course, God is also present in the original seed, the soil, the fertilizer, the sunshine -- everything that is needed for growth. We see grace in everything that God provides for the tree and for us, and that grace is indiscriminate. The rain falls and the sun shines on trees that produce and trees that do not produce.
The end of the parable brings us back to the message, “repent or perish.” Yes, God’s grace is indiscriminate, but it is not unlimited. The tree is given one more year; if it does not produce, it will be cut down. Grace does not mean that we are not accountable to God. While that is scary, it is also a relief because it shows that our lives count for something. We are not just going through the motions and crossing our fingers, hoping to get into Heaven; our lives are meant to be good and full and productive. In the first reading, Isaiah says, “ Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Paul warns us “So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.”
Occasionally I get mail that says in large print, Time Sensitive Materials Enclosed -- Action Required. That should be the heading for this week’s readings. AMEN
Someone asks about some Galileans who had been killed by Pilate, and Jesus replies, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” In case he has not been clear enough, he mentions eighteen people who were killed by the collapse of a tower in Jerusalem and says virtually the same thing, “do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” Whatever your ethnicity, whether the tragedy is brought about by an evil man or is a random accident, Jesus is making clear that we should not assume a correlation between sin and disaster. Sin does not make atrocities come. They just come. Instead of asking why, we need to see senseless death as a reminder of just how fragile life is. Of course we will all die. Jesus’ warning is that we will perish as they did -- unprepared. We should not mistake our good fortune as evidence of God's special blessing.
Jesus follows this up with the parable of the barren fig tree. Part of understanding a parable is finding ourselves in the story. It is pretty clear that we, like the original listeners, are the barren fig tree. The Israelites who heard this likely understood it as a warning that Jesus was their last chance: they had been given the Law with Moses, the prophets, and now the Son of God. To reject Jesus would amount to finally rejecting God. It is also important to find God in the parable. It is tempting to see God as the man who wants to destroy the tree for wasting the soil, but the work of Jesus is shown through the gardener pleading for a second chance and working with the tree to help it produce. Of course, God is also present in the original seed, the soil, the fertilizer, the sunshine -- everything that is needed for growth. We see grace in everything that God provides for the tree and for us, and that grace is indiscriminate. The rain falls and the sun shines on trees that produce and trees that do not produce.
The end of the parable brings us back to the message, “repent or perish.” Yes, God’s grace is indiscriminate, but it is not unlimited. The tree is given one more year; if it does not produce, it will be cut down. Grace does not mean that we are not accountable to God. While that is scary, it is also a relief because it shows that our lives count for something. We are not just going through the motions and crossing our fingers, hoping to get into Heaven; our lives are meant to be good and full and productive. In the first reading, Isaiah says, “ Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Paul warns us “So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.”
Occasionally I get mail that says in large print, Time Sensitive Materials Enclosed -- Action Required. That should be the heading for this week’s readings. AMEN
On the wall at the church office is a Franciscan blessing that a friend sent me. It begins, “May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships so that you may life deep within your heart” Today’s Gospel brought this blessing to mind because it did not lend itself to easy preaching; no matter how much I studied, poked and prodded, it refused to give up a simple answer. As I searched the other readings for a thread to pull at, I found myself drawn to the psalm -- maybe because of its complexity. As one author said, “Psalm 27 captures the ambiguity that inevitably haunts our faith.” Once I gave up on the Gospel reading, it finally opened itself to me.
The bulk of today’s Gospel is Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem. Lament is defined as a passionate expression of grief or sorrow. Jesus is lamenting that, in spite of the fact that Jerusalem claims to be the center of holiness, the people there refuse to accept his message. As he puts it, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” He concludes his lament by telling the people that they will not recognize Him until he returns in his glory, and by then it will be too late for them. This is not a comfortable message to hear from Jesus. We have conditioned ourselves to believe that it is never too late to be saved, and we have turned Jesus into an unthreatening symbol of gentleness. I have a picture of David straddling a lion, choking the life out of it, but all of my pictures of Jesus as a shepherd show him cuddling a lamb. We have left the idea of vengeance in the Old Testament.
Sometimes at church events the leader will call the group back from break with the call and response: God is good -- all the time. All the time -- God is good. This is harmless, but it doesn’t reflect a very complex relationship with God. If someone walking past the banquet room poked her head in and asked, “If God is good all of the time, why won’t my cancer respond to treatment?” how would we answer? We are most comfortable living in a world that makes sense -- a world of cause and effect -- the kind of world in which the disciples asked about the man born blind, “Who sinned? This man or his parents?” We certainly don’t want to worship a God who causes suffering, but we definitely need a God who participates in our suffering. Psalm 27 gives us a framework for understanding how God does that.
The psalm begins on a high note reminiscent of the 23rd Psalm: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh— my adversaries and foes— they shall stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident.” It is difficult to imagine that this person could ever meet a circumstance that would cause him to doubt his God. Unfortunately, this is the kind of faith that we often feel that we need to have. How dare we question God? We assume that doubt is the opposite of faith. This is where lamentation comes in. Lamentation is much deeper than grumbling or complaining, where we have already made up our mind that we have been wronged. Lamentation is truly seeking answers and understanding. It is part a normal movement from conflict to resolution. I find it helpful to think of it this way: I can and do list my problems to almost everyone I talk to, but I only share my deepest concerns with those I really trust. By sharing our lamentations with God, we are admitting belief that God can truly do something about them. We are also going deep into the roots of our problems instead of pretending that we have them under control. As strange as it may sound, we cannot surrender to God unless we first go to war with God.
In the middle of the psalm, the tone changes: “Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me! "Come," my heart says, "seek his face!" Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help. Do not cast me off, do not forsake me, O God of my salvation!” The psalmist becomes deeply human as he pleads with God not to abandon him. Through his laments, the psalmist is expressing belief in the reality, the goodness, and the power of God, who is not only worthy of our confidence but also attentive to our cries for help.
It is hard to tell who the psalmist is talking to when he concludes, “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”, but it is clear that his complaints are an indication of, not a denial of, his faith. As we continue through the Lenten season, a season meant for reflection, it is the perfect time for us to have the kind of raw, honest conversations with God that the psalmist models, conversations grounded in the conviction that God is real and powerful and good and has sent his son into the world that world may be saved through him. AMEN
The bulk of today’s Gospel is Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem. Lament is defined as a passionate expression of grief or sorrow. Jesus is lamenting that, in spite of the fact that Jerusalem claims to be the center of holiness, the people there refuse to accept his message. As he puts it, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” He concludes his lament by telling the people that they will not recognize Him until he returns in his glory, and by then it will be too late for them. This is not a comfortable message to hear from Jesus. We have conditioned ourselves to believe that it is never too late to be saved, and we have turned Jesus into an unthreatening symbol of gentleness. I have a picture of David straddling a lion, choking the life out of it, but all of my pictures of Jesus as a shepherd show him cuddling a lamb. We have left the idea of vengeance in the Old Testament.
Sometimes at church events the leader will call the group back from break with the call and response: God is good -- all the time. All the time -- God is good. This is harmless, but it doesn’t reflect a very complex relationship with God. If someone walking past the banquet room poked her head in and asked, “If God is good all of the time, why won’t my cancer respond to treatment?” how would we answer? We are most comfortable living in a world that makes sense -- a world of cause and effect -- the kind of world in which the disciples asked about the man born blind, “Who sinned? This man or his parents?” We certainly don’t want to worship a God who causes suffering, but we definitely need a God who participates in our suffering. Psalm 27 gives us a framework for understanding how God does that.
The psalm begins on a high note reminiscent of the 23rd Psalm: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh— my adversaries and foes— they shall stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident.” It is difficult to imagine that this person could ever meet a circumstance that would cause him to doubt his God. Unfortunately, this is the kind of faith that we often feel that we need to have. How dare we question God? We assume that doubt is the opposite of faith. This is where lamentation comes in. Lamentation is much deeper than grumbling or complaining, where we have already made up our mind that we have been wronged. Lamentation is truly seeking answers and understanding. It is part a normal movement from conflict to resolution. I find it helpful to think of it this way: I can and do list my problems to almost everyone I talk to, but I only share my deepest concerns with those I really trust. By sharing our lamentations with God, we are admitting belief that God can truly do something about them. We are also going deep into the roots of our problems instead of pretending that we have them under control. As strange as it may sound, we cannot surrender to God unless we first go to war with God.
In the middle of the psalm, the tone changes: “Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me! "Come," my heart says, "seek his face!" Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help. Do not cast me off, do not forsake me, O God of my salvation!” The psalmist becomes deeply human as he pleads with God not to abandon him. Through his laments, the psalmist is expressing belief in the reality, the goodness, and the power of God, who is not only worthy of our confidence but also attentive to our cries for help.
It is hard to tell who the psalmist is talking to when he concludes, “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”, but it is clear that his complaints are an indication of, not a denial of, his faith. As we continue through the Lenten season, a season meant for reflection, it is the perfect time for us to have the kind of raw, honest conversations with God that the psalmist models, conversations grounded in the conviction that God is real and powerful and good and has sent his son into the world that world may be saved through him. AMEN
We pray the Lord’s Prayer nearly every time that we get together, but how much time do we spend thinking about the words that we are saying? This week’s Gospel has me thinking particularly about, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” Do we really believe that God is liable to lead us into temptation? I see that leading into and delivering from are opposites, but are temptation and evil? Can we truly be delivered from evil without first being tempted? Am I asking these questions simply to muddy the water so that I can look smarter by answering them?
Our Gospel reading begins, “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.” At one moment the skies have opened and the Spirit has descended in the form of a dove declaring, “this is my son with whom I am well pleased,” and the next moment, that same spirit is leading Jesus into the wilderness. Some interpretations even use stronger language, stating that Jesus is driven into the wilderness. If we look at our own baptisms, can we see this same pattern? At one moment, the child is at the font as the parents, sponsors and congregation promise to nurture them in faith and prayer. Does that child enter the metaphorical wilderness of the world upon leaving the church? Is this also true when adults are baptized after a time of preparation? I think that holds up pretty well, considering that 40 days/years in the Bible is shorthand for the time that passes between two events. I like the image of the spirit taking the baptized by the hand and leading him or her into the wilderness that is the world. Martin Luther explained this petition: It is true that God tempts no one, but we ask in this prayer that God would preserve and keep us, so that the devil, the world, and our flesh may not deceive us or mislead us into false belief, despair, and other great and shameful sins, and that, although we may be attacked by them, we may finally prevail and gain the victory.”
That leaves us with the seventh petition. It is interesting that we say “but deliver us from evil” while Luther says “and deliver us from evil.” Luther’s version solves the problem of whether or not temptation is the opposite of evil by acknowledging that both exist. While the “but” stands in most translations of Matthew 6:13, there is a mix of being delivered from evil and being delivered from the evil one. Luther says: “We ask in this prayer, as in a summary, that our Father in heaven may deliver us from all kinds of evil -- affecting body or soul, property or reputation -- and at last, when our final hour comes, may grant us a blessed end and take us by grace from this valley of tears to himself in heaven.” It doesn’t sound like we are being asked for protection from the evil, but for a final deliverance at the end of our lives. This is not a very optimistic way to look at our faith, and it can be taken as heaven as a reward for our earthly suffering. This is problematic in a fundamental way.
I need a God who is present in my life at all times in a very real way. The picture of the Spirit holding my hand in the wilderness of the world needs to be accompanied by that same Spirit working with me to ward off the evil that surrounds me like in Ephesians: “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” I haven’t really answered my own questions, but I don’t believe that the attempt was in vain because I have moved closer to understanding. AMEN
Our Gospel reading begins, “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.” At one moment the skies have opened and the Spirit has descended in the form of a dove declaring, “this is my son with whom I am well pleased,” and the next moment, that same spirit is leading Jesus into the wilderness. Some interpretations even use stronger language, stating that Jesus is driven into the wilderness. If we look at our own baptisms, can we see this same pattern? At one moment, the child is at the font as the parents, sponsors and congregation promise to nurture them in faith and prayer. Does that child enter the metaphorical wilderness of the world upon leaving the church? Is this also true when adults are baptized after a time of preparation? I think that holds up pretty well, considering that 40 days/years in the Bible is shorthand for the time that passes between two events. I like the image of the spirit taking the baptized by the hand and leading him or her into the wilderness that is the world. Martin Luther explained this petition: It is true that God tempts no one, but we ask in this prayer that God would preserve and keep us, so that the devil, the world, and our flesh may not deceive us or mislead us into false belief, despair, and other great and shameful sins, and that, although we may be attacked by them, we may finally prevail and gain the victory.”
That leaves us with the seventh petition. It is interesting that we say “but deliver us from evil” while Luther says “and deliver us from evil.” Luther’s version solves the problem of whether or not temptation is the opposite of evil by acknowledging that both exist. While the “but” stands in most translations of Matthew 6:13, there is a mix of being delivered from evil and being delivered from the evil one. Luther says: “We ask in this prayer, as in a summary, that our Father in heaven may deliver us from all kinds of evil -- affecting body or soul, property or reputation -- and at last, when our final hour comes, may grant us a blessed end and take us by grace from this valley of tears to himself in heaven.” It doesn’t sound like we are being asked for protection from the evil, but for a final deliverance at the end of our lives. This is not a very optimistic way to look at our faith, and it can be taken as heaven as a reward for our earthly suffering. This is problematic in a fundamental way.
I need a God who is present in my life at all times in a very real way. The picture of the Spirit holding my hand in the wilderness of the world needs to be accompanied by that same Spirit working with me to ward off the evil that surrounds me like in Ephesians: “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” I haven’t really answered my own questions, but I don’t believe that the attempt was in vain because I have moved closer to understanding. AMEN
Numbers 6:24-26
The Lord bless you and keep you:
The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you:
The Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, which marks the end of the season of Epiphany. Way back on January 6th, I introduced epiphany with a definition: An epiphany is a moment of sudden insight or understanding of the essential nature of meaning of something. It is usually the result of an event or occurrence that is simple, yet striking. Like the birth of our Savior in a manger, the transfiguration of Christ certainly fits that description. Peter, James and John accompany Jesus to a mountaintop where Jesus prays. “While he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” Moses and Elijah appear to talk to Jesus about his imminent death in Jerusalem. Peter suggests that they commemorate the moment by building three dwellings, booths, or Tabernacles, God appears in a cloud, declaring, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!", Moses and Elijah disappear, and the three disciples go on to tell no one what has happened. While the details of this account might be confusing, they are not complicated, and they are most definitely striking.
The first and second readings for today are full of veils. Moses wears a veil when he has visited God so that the Israelites are able to look at him, but takes it off when he is in the presence of God. Paul tells the people of Corinth, “ We Christians have no veil over our faces; we can be mirrors that brightly reflect the glory of the Lord. And as the Spirit of the Lord works within us, we become more and more like him.” Just as Epiphany has evolved from a single feast to fill the space between Christmas and Lent, the Feast of Transfiguration has been moved from August 6 to the Sunday before Lent in many Protestant churches and the second Sunday of Lent in the Catholic church. That makes sense because, just as the disciples needed to see the essential nature of Jesus -- the Son of God -- before they could follow him into Jerusalem, we need this moment of brightness before the darkness of the Lenten season descends.
For me, the final verse of the reading is the most striking: “And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.” It makes sense that they didn’t say anything right away; this might be the ultimate “you just had to be there” moment. Like so many things, what they have seen won’t make sense to them until long after the fact. It won’t be enough to keep them at Jesus’ side at the crucifixion or to make them secure in the hope of the resurrection. It will, however, be revealed to them as a part of the Good News that they will share in their ministries. It might even have given them strength as their own lives were threatened, and, eventually taken.
We, on the other hand, have the benefit of knowing the full story of Jesus. We enter Lent knowing all about Easter morning with a John 3:16 sort of faith. Why is it so difficult for us to remove our veils so that the Glory of the Lord can be reflect off of us? My personal Lenten challenge is to assess what in my Christian life is my true face, and what is simply a facade that I maintain to conceal truths that I would rather not face. AMEN
The Lord bless you and keep you:
The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you:
The Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, which marks the end of the season of Epiphany. Way back on January 6th, I introduced epiphany with a definition: An epiphany is a moment of sudden insight or understanding of the essential nature of meaning of something. It is usually the result of an event or occurrence that is simple, yet striking. Like the birth of our Savior in a manger, the transfiguration of Christ certainly fits that description. Peter, James and John accompany Jesus to a mountaintop where Jesus prays. “While he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” Moses and Elijah appear to talk to Jesus about his imminent death in Jerusalem. Peter suggests that they commemorate the moment by building three dwellings, booths, or Tabernacles, God appears in a cloud, declaring, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!", Moses and Elijah disappear, and the three disciples go on to tell no one what has happened. While the details of this account might be confusing, they are not complicated, and they are most definitely striking.
The first and second readings for today are full of veils. Moses wears a veil when he has visited God so that the Israelites are able to look at him, but takes it off when he is in the presence of God. Paul tells the people of Corinth, “ We Christians have no veil over our faces; we can be mirrors that brightly reflect the glory of the Lord. And as the Spirit of the Lord works within us, we become more and more like him.” Just as Epiphany has evolved from a single feast to fill the space between Christmas and Lent, the Feast of Transfiguration has been moved from August 6 to the Sunday before Lent in many Protestant churches and the second Sunday of Lent in the Catholic church. That makes sense because, just as the disciples needed to see the essential nature of Jesus -- the Son of God -- before they could follow him into Jerusalem, we need this moment of brightness before the darkness of the Lenten season descends.
For me, the final verse of the reading is the most striking: “And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.” It makes sense that they didn’t say anything right away; this might be the ultimate “you just had to be there” moment. Like so many things, what they have seen won’t make sense to them until long after the fact. It won’t be enough to keep them at Jesus’ side at the crucifixion or to make them secure in the hope of the resurrection. It will, however, be revealed to them as a part of the Good News that they will share in their ministries. It might even have given them strength as their own lives were threatened, and, eventually taken.
We, on the other hand, have the benefit of knowing the full story of Jesus. We enter Lent knowing all about Easter morning with a John 3:16 sort of faith. Why is it so difficult for us to remove our veils so that the Glory of the Lord can be reflect off of us? My personal Lenten challenge is to assess what in my Christian life is my true face, and what is simply a facade that I maintain to conceal truths that I would rather not face. AMEN
What do you remember about studying literature in school? I remember the teachers asking questions at the end of each chapter. Some of the questions were easy -- a matter of finding the answers right in the text. For example, “What kind of shell did the boys pass around at their meetings in Lord of the Flies.” The point of those questions was simply to get you to open the book. Other questions were more complex, like: “ Why does Golding end Lord of the Flies with the rescue of the boys? Does this ending change the realistic nature of the novel?” The worst part was that the teacher always added a word like “explain.” Reading the book wasn’t enough -- we were asked to think!
In today’s Gospel reading, a continuation of the Sermon on the Plain, we hear what is called “The Golden Rule,” ” do to others as you would have them do to you or, as the Message translation puts it, “Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them!” Variations of the Golden rule are found in the Old Testament; in fact, forms of this rule go back as far as 550 bc.The version that Jesus shares is positive because it tells us how to act. So is the version found in the Koran, "Pay, Oh Children of Adam, as you would love to be paid, and be just as you would love to have justice!" The Buddhist rule, “Treat not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful,” is an example of the negative pattern.
The Golden Rule is often associated with religions, but it can be viewed more as a matter of ethics than of religion. If this simple concept which is a part of Buddhism, Confucianism, Hinduism, Islam, and Judaism is the essence of Jesus’ message, how can it lead us to Christian faith? This is one of those questions that the teacher would end with, “explain,” isn’t it? One of the first difficulties that we face is the seeming impossibility of the task that Jesus sets before us: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.” There are many reasons that we might not want to follow this command. It doesn’t seem fair, and fairness is a dear concept to us. It will make us look weak, and the weak get taken advantage of. Most importantly, it just feels good to think about others “getting what they have coming to them.” Today’s entire reading deals with an idea called reciprocity. Some of the ways that we understand reciprocity according to William Allen are: the giving of gifts, where someone with more than enough gives to the less fortunate, usually resulting in praise and indebted thanks; exchange, where social equals exchange for mutual benefit; and retribution, where one unjustly takes from another, eliciting retribution in response, as the victim is able. The Christian version is different because the response of the enemy is irrelevant. Jesus tells us that those who love as a response to love or are generous as a response to generosity are no better than sinners.
That last statement is important because the fact is that we ARE no better than sinners. The dimension that Jesus words add to the Golden rule are summed up when he says, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Mercy is defined as, “compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm.” Clearly, it is within God’s power to punish or harm us, yet He forgives us instead. Unlike the other sources of the Golden Rule, we have been given a living example in Jesus. Loving our enemies is not about warm fuzzies; it is about wanting them to have access to the presence of God just as we do. AMEN
In today’s Gospel reading, a continuation of the Sermon on the Plain, we hear what is called “The Golden Rule,” ” do to others as you would have them do to you or, as the Message translation puts it, “Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them!” Variations of the Golden rule are found in the Old Testament; in fact, forms of this rule go back as far as 550 bc.The version that Jesus shares is positive because it tells us how to act. So is the version found in the Koran, "Pay, Oh Children of Adam, as you would love to be paid, and be just as you would love to have justice!" The Buddhist rule, “Treat not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful,” is an example of the negative pattern.
The Golden Rule is often associated with religions, but it can be viewed more as a matter of ethics than of religion. If this simple concept which is a part of Buddhism, Confucianism, Hinduism, Islam, and Judaism is the essence of Jesus’ message, how can it lead us to Christian faith? This is one of those questions that the teacher would end with, “explain,” isn’t it? One of the first difficulties that we face is the seeming impossibility of the task that Jesus sets before us: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.” There are many reasons that we might not want to follow this command. It doesn’t seem fair, and fairness is a dear concept to us. It will make us look weak, and the weak get taken advantage of. Most importantly, it just feels good to think about others “getting what they have coming to them.” Today’s entire reading deals with an idea called reciprocity. Some of the ways that we understand reciprocity according to William Allen are: the giving of gifts, where someone with more than enough gives to the less fortunate, usually resulting in praise and indebted thanks; exchange, where social equals exchange for mutual benefit; and retribution, where one unjustly takes from another, eliciting retribution in response, as the victim is able. The Christian version is different because the response of the enemy is irrelevant. Jesus tells us that those who love as a response to love or are generous as a response to generosity are no better than sinners.
That last statement is important because the fact is that we ARE no better than sinners. The dimension that Jesus words add to the Golden rule are summed up when he says, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Mercy is defined as, “compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm.” Clearly, it is within God’s power to punish or harm us, yet He forgives us instead. Unlike the other sources of the Golden Rule, we have been given a living example in Jesus. Loving our enemies is not about warm fuzzies; it is about wanting them to have access to the presence of God just as we do. AMEN
“Then he looked up at his disciples…”
Have you ever read or heard something that seemed like it must be a message intended just for you? This little fragment from today’s Gospel is that for me. Maybe it has to do with timing. I spent most of last week on top of the world: I had a couple of new ideas for church, confirmation class went better than it ever had, I felt downright pastoral as I prepared for the church council meetings, I was invited to Maddie’s performance with the all-state honor band at Orchestra Hall, and I was repeatedly praised by those who had read the Montevideo newspaper. If you haven’t heard, I wrote a letter to the editor and I was mentioned in a story about a former student as an adult who had been important in his life. Our text study this week took place in Pastor Kendall’s Suburban on the way back from Bishop John’s father’s funeral. As Pastor Elan Hacker read the Gospel from the back seat, those words, “Then he looked up at his disciples…” smacked me in the back of the head. I had never noticed them before. I had to know more.
The reading begins, “He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon.” The first part of this verse doesn’t make sense without context. He is coming down from a mountain where he has spent the night in prayer and choosing the twelve disciples: “When day came, he called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles.” We don’t know from how many disciples the twelve were chosen, but Luke mentions “a great crowd.” I wonder who went down the mountain first? I picture the dejected disciples who had not been chosen as apostles leading the way while the excited apostles waited to follow Jesus down. At the bottom is a sea of people. In my minds eye, I see Jesus pushing through the disciples and wading into the crowd. Everyone wants to touch Jesus, “for power came out from him and healed all of them.”
Imagine standing a bit uphill, unable to see Jesus, but able to follow his progress by the movements of the crowd. As the hours pass, you might realize that, whether you were chosen to be an apostle or not, Jesus is a man worth following. If you had been chosen, you would likely be bursting with pride at being associated with one who is able to do so much for so many. And then… “he looked up at his disciples…” Jesus caught my eye this week when I began to listen to myself talk. I wanted to share the great ideas that came to me when I attended a meeting to which members of the congregations were invited, but none came. I could only talk about Maddie’s success by first explaining how much Tami and I have done for her over the years. I was proud of my editorial because it showed my ability to appreciate it when others do good things for me and people that I know. I was one of only three people named as catalysts for the success of a former student…
Jesus looked up at his disciples who were standing on the side of the hill above the crowd. In the words of Thomas Frank, “In Luke, I sense Jesus is looking up at me, as if to say, what are you doing right this minute? People are sick and dying right here, tormented by spirits. They have come from all over the land, from the coast to the river, from south to north as far as you can go in a few days’ journey. Will you get down here with me and help?” Jesus is telling me to quit doing things that will inspire people to say nice things about me and to wade into the crowd with Him. AMEN
Have you ever read or heard something that seemed like it must be a message intended just for you? This little fragment from today’s Gospel is that for me. Maybe it has to do with timing. I spent most of last week on top of the world: I had a couple of new ideas for church, confirmation class went better than it ever had, I felt downright pastoral as I prepared for the church council meetings, I was invited to Maddie’s performance with the all-state honor band at Orchestra Hall, and I was repeatedly praised by those who had read the Montevideo newspaper. If you haven’t heard, I wrote a letter to the editor and I was mentioned in a story about a former student as an adult who had been important in his life. Our text study this week took place in Pastor Kendall’s Suburban on the way back from Bishop John’s father’s funeral. As Pastor Elan Hacker read the Gospel from the back seat, those words, “Then he looked up at his disciples…” smacked me in the back of the head. I had never noticed them before. I had to know more.
The reading begins, “He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon.” The first part of this verse doesn’t make sense without context. He is coming down from a mountain where he has spent the night in prayer and choosing the twelve disciples: “When day came, he called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles.” We don’t know from how many disciples the twelve were chosen, but Luke mentions “a great crowd.” I wonder who went down the mountain first? I picture the dejected disciples who had not been chosen as apostles leading the way while the excited apostles waited to follow Jesus down. At the bottom is a sea of people. In my minds eye, I see Jesus pushing through the disciples and wading into the crowd. Everyone wants to touch Jesus, “for power came out from him and healed all of them.”
Imagine standing a bit uphill, unable to see Jesus, but able to follow his progress by the movements of the crowd. As the hours pass, you might realize that, whether you were chosen to be an apostle or not, Jesus is a man worth following. If you had been chosen, you would likely be bursting with pride at being associated with one who is able to do so much for so many. And then… “he looked up at his disciples…” Jesus caught my eye this week when I began to listen to myself talk. I wanted to share the great ideas that came to me when I attended a meeting to which members of the congregations were invited, but none came. I could only talk about Maddie’s success by first explaining how much Tami and I have done for her over the years. I was proud of my editorial because it showed my ability to appreciate it when others do good things for me and people that I know. I was one of only three people named as catalysts for the success of a former student…
Jesus looked up at his disciples who were standing on the side of the hill above the crowd. In the words of Thomas Frank, “In Luke, I sense Jesus is looking up at me, as if to say, what are you doing right this minute? People are sick and dying right here, tormented by spirits. They have come from all over the land, from the coast to the river, from south to north as far as you can go in a few days’ journey. Will you get down here with me and help?” Jesus is telling me to quit doing things that will inspire people to say nice things about me and to wade into the crowd with Him. AMEN
Before reading the Gospel, I asked you to think about the following: What do you notice? and What do you wonder? With such a rich passage, there are bound to be many answers to these simple questions. The crowd pressing Jesus, pinning him to the lakeshore, the bursting nets and sinking boats, and the last line -- “When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” The strongest image that I take from this passage is Simon falling to his knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" The thing that I wonder about is Simon’s attitude when he said, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets." What I wouldn’t give to see his facial expression and hear his tone of voice!
The theme of this passage might be abundance and the human response. The crowd is overwhelming Jesus, the catch is almost more than two boatloads of experienced fishermen can handle, yet the response is to first try to send Jesus away and second to walk away from a banner day in the work of a lifetime. Let’s begin with the individual response of Simon, who I will call Peter from here on, as Jesus has begun to do by the end of this reading. You probably remember that Jesus later officially changed Simon’s name to Peter, which means “the rock” (which strikes me as an unfortunate nickname for a fisherman!) We remember Peter for walking on water (until he took a look around and sank), for being the first to recognize Jesus as the Messiah (and then showing that he had no idea what that really meant), for jumping out of the boat and splashing toward Jesus after the resurrection, and, most importantly, for denying Jesus three times before the crucifixion after swearing that he would never do so. This is the man who Jesus chose as the leader of the early church! How does that make sense?
This incident shows us that Peter was willing to try again, which is a good trait for a disciple. We also see that Peter is keenly aware of his sinfulness. In his amazing book, Jesus: a Pilgrimage, Father James Martin says, “Jesus knows Peter’s weaknesses and calls him anyway. Jesus calls us anyway too, in spite or our weaknesses. In fact, Jesus ultimately may have called Peter to lead the church because Peter was painfully conscious of his own weakness. He would never forget how far he fell, how much he failed -- and so he would remember to rely on God’s strength, not his own.” Peter’s response to Jesus is neither shame nor false modesty. To quote Martin, “ In the bright sunlight of God’s love, Peter sees his shadow side.” Think about it this way: Who makes a better teacher -- one who has always succeeded or one who has failed repeatedly and learned from each failure? When I coached Jr. high football, we always told the boys that we didn’t mind aggressive mistakes -- only passive mistakes. Jesus’ choice of Peter shows that he felt the same way.
Without the apostles, there would be no church, but Jesus didn’t choose and teach the apostles so that they would start a church. After the ascension of Jesus, the apostles were charged with the preservation of the story of Jesus. Luke identified three different groups, the 12 apostles, a larger group of disciples, many of whom abandoned Jesus even before the crucifixion, and followers -- those who made up the crowds. The apostles were likely the only people who witnessed the entirety of Jesus’ ministry, so it was up to them to continue his work. We confess that we are an apostolic church. That means that we try to follow in the footsteps of Jesus as recorded by and lived by the apostles. Obviously, you cannot leave or follow footsteps if you never move, right?
Jesus met Peter, James and John at the lakeshore and promised to make them “fishers of men.” It just might be that their record catch of fish showed them that even their greatest professional achievement paled in comparison to the possibilities offered by Jesus. Jesus showed these men that he valued what they did and that his call to them was no mistake. This isn’t a fairytale where ordinary people are magically transformed into something special. To look at the apostles, you would never have guessed that they were those chosen for the most important work in history. In fact, keeping them humble was one of Jesus’ greatest struggles with the twelve. The Kingdom of God is built on ordinary people doing ordinary things. Have you ever said, “I guess I better do something, even if it’s wrong?” If so, you are on the right track. AMEN
The theme of this passage might be abundance and the human response. The crowd is overwhelming Jesus, the catch is almost more than two boatloads of experienced fishermen can handle, yet the response is to first try to send Jesus away and second to walk away from a banner day in the work of a lifetime. Let’s begin with the individual response of Simon, who I will call Peter from here on, as Jesus has begun to do by the end of this reading. You probably remember that Jesus later officially changed Simon’s name to Peter, which means “the rock” (which strikes me as an unfortunate nickname for a fisherman!) We remember Peter for walking on water (until he took a look around and sank), for being the first to recognize Jesus as the Messiah (and then showing that he had no idea what that really meant), for jumping out of the boat and splashing toward Jesus after the resurrection, and, most importantly, for denying Jesus three times before the crucifixion after swearing that he would never do so. This is the man who Jesus chose as the leader of the early church! How does that make sense?
This incident shows us that Peter was willing to try again, which is a good trait for a disciple. We also see that Peter is keenly aware of his sinfulness. In his amazing book, Jesus: a Pilgrimage, Father James Martin says, “Jesus knows Peter’s weaknesses and calls him anyway. Jesus calls us anyway too, in spite or our weaknesses. In fact, Jesus ultimately may have called Peter to lead the church because Peter was painfully conscious of his own weakness. He would never forget how far he fell, how much he failed -- and so he would remember to rely on God’s strength, not his own.” Peter’s response to Jesus is neither shame nor false modesty. To quote Martin, “ In the bright sunlight of God’s love, Peter sees his shadow side.” Think about it this way: Who makes a better teacher -- one who has always succeeded or one who has failed repeatedly and learned from each failure? When I coached Jr. high football, we always told the boys that we didn’t mind aggressive mistakes -- only passive mistakes. Jesus’ choice of Peter shows that he felt the same way.
Without the apostles, there would be no church, but Jesus didn’t choose and teach the apostles so that they would start a church. After the ascension of Jesus, the apostles were charged with the preservation of the story of Jesus. Luke identified three different groups, the 12 apostles, a larger group of disciples, many of whom abandoned Jesus even before the crucifixion, and followers -- those who made up the crowds. The apostles were likely the only people who witnessed the entirety of Jesus’ ministry, so it was up to them to continue his work. We confess that we are an apostolic church. That means that we try to follow in the footsteps of Jesus as recorded by and lived by the apostles. Obviously, you cannot leave or follow footsteps if you never move, right?
Jesus met Peter, James and John at the lakeshore and promised to make them “fishers of men.” It just might be that their record catch of fish showed them that even their greatest professional achievement paled in comparison to the possibilities offered by Jesus. Jesus showed these men that he valued what they did and that his call to them was no mistake. This isn’t a fairytale where ordinary people are magically transformed into something special. To look at the apostles, you would never have guessed that they were those chosen for the most important work in history. In fact, keeping them humble was one of Jesus’ greatest struggles with the twelve. The Kingdom of God is built on ordinary people doing ordinary things. Have you ever said, “I guess I better do something, even if it’s wrong?” If so, you are on the right track. AMEN
Last week we left Jesus in his home synagogue in Nazareth. He had read from the scroll of Isaiah, a prophet who had spoken extensively about the coming of the messiah. We pick up today where we left off -- with Jesus’ declaration, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” This is a wonderful example of what my professors in the ed department called an “anticipatory set,” a short activity or prompt that focuses the students’ attention before the actual lesson begins. More contemporary trainers call it a “lesson hook.” We know that it worked because, “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”
I can empathize with what happens next as Jesus’ lesson plan seems to derail. Instead of stating his objective, teaching, modeling, and checking for understanding, Jesus launches an attack on the poor, happy crowd. Did the words, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” from the back of the room break the satisfied murmuring of acceptance, or was it the acceptance itself that sets him off? Without any prompting, Jesus drops a couple of proverbs: “Doctor cure yourself, and “No prophet is accepted in the prophets hometown” as well as putting the words “Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum” into the mouths of his audience. Was he driven by his intimate knowledge of these people? Did he read their minds? Jesus continues, making matters worse, by giving examples of the early prophets doing the work of God among people who were not Israelites. By the time he has finished, “all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff.”
I can only remember one sermon that had anything close to this kind of results. Bergen, along with Augustana and Swede Home, held a vote on whether to extend a full-time call to an interim pastor. The vote passed by a wide margin at the other two churches, but at Bergen the margin was narrow enough that the Synod recommended that the pastor decline the call. On his last Sunday, as we prepared to send him off with a potluck meal, the pastor spent twenty minutes explaining how we were well on our way down the road to Hell. Interestingly, we all shook his hand and proceeded to the basement to honor him. There are no hills near Bergen, but we might have at least threatened to push him down the stairs!
I admit that the situations aren’t identical, but why were we able to maintain our composure while the people at Nazareth lost theirs? The people aren’t angered by the reading from Isaiah or even when Jesus declares that it has been fulfilled in their hearing, so it is probably from what follows. Personally, I react the most strongly to criticism that is true. I am most offended when people point out things that already bother me about myself. While they are still congratulating themselves over the wisdom of one of their own, Jesus attacks their overconfidence. By aligning himself with the greatest of the prophets -- Elijah and Elisha -- Jesus is declaring himself to be a prophet. We often think of prophets as those who predict the future, but prophets are those who tell the truth about the present and give hope to God’s presence. Unfortunately for the people, the truth about the present was that they were more interested in what they could get from their association with Jesus than they were in how to serve God. Jesus was there to make them confront this truth, and he led with their possible denials and excuses before they could even bring them up. How infuriating is it when someone knows you well enough to do that!
Imagine yourself as one of the people at the synagogue that day. You begin the day excited and proud that a man that you have known your whole life, a friend and neighbor who has begun to make a name for himself as a teacher, has returned home to lead the service. His skill as a preacher is breathtaking and the synagogue is filled with murmurs of proud satisfaction. Suddenly, the tone of the murmurs change as people begin to realize that Jesus is pointing out the flaws and shortcomings of those gathered. How dare he! That ungrateful jerk! The murmur turns into calls for violence and shouts. The crowd has become an angry mob and before you know it, the gathering has moved outside to the edge of a cliff. How did you get here? The cool darkness of the synagogue has given way to the bright sunlight of the outdoors, and you realize that you are contemplating murder. The harsh voice of the mob begins to separate into individual voices as people begin to wonder who will actually take the next step -- to step forward, grab Jesus, and hurl him over the edge. As the moment passes, the voices begin to quiet as Jesus passes through the crowd and goes on his way. How angry will these people be when they learn that he goes straight to Capernaum and exorcises a demon!
What is the truth that the gospel reveals about our present? Are we, like Jeremiah, unwilling to step up and do what God has asked of us? Do we let our traditions become more important than the reason that we worship? Have we heard the words of scripture so many times that it no longer has the power to make us think, much less act? Today’s reading reminds us that God does not exist to serve us, but that we exist to serve God. AMEN
I can empathize with what happens next as Jesus’ lesson plan seems to derail. Instead of stating his objective, teaching, modeling, and checking for understanding, Jesus launches an attack on the poor, happy crowd. Did the words, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” from the back of the room break the satisfied murmuring of acceptance, or was it the acceptance itself that sets him off? Without any prompting, Jesus drops a couple of proverbs: “Doctor cure yourself, and “No prophet is accepted in the prophets hometown” as well as putting the words “Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum” into the mouths of his audience. Was he driven by his intimate knowledge of these people? Did he read their minds? Jesus continues, making matters worse, by giving examples of the early prophets doing the work of God among people who were not Israelites. By the time he has finished, “all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff.”
I can only remember one sermon that had anything close to this kind of results. Bergen, along with Augustana and Swede Home, held a vote on whether to extend a full-time call to an interim pastor. The vote passed by a wide margin at the other two churches, but at Bergen the margin was narrow enough that the Synod recommended that the pastor decline the call. On his last Sunday, as we prepared to send him off with a potluck meal, the pastor spent twenty minutes explaining how we were well on our way down the road to Hell. Interestingly, we all shook his hand and proceeded to the basement to honor him. There are no hills near Bergen, but we might have at least threatened to push him down the stairs!
I admit that the situations aren’t identical, but why were we able to maintain our composure while the people at Nazareth lost theirs? The people aren’t angered by the reading from Isaiah or even when Jesus declares that it has been fulfilled in their hearing, so it is probably from what follows. Personally, I react the most strongly to criticism that is true. I am most offended when people point out things that already bother me about myself. While they are still congratulating themselves over the wisdom of one of their own, Jesus attacks their overconfidence. By aligning himself with the greatest of the prophets -- Elijah and Elisha -- Jesus is declaring himself to be a prophet. We often think of prophets as those who predict the future, but prophets are those who tell the truth about the present and give hope to God’s presence. Unfortunately for the people, the truth about the present was that they were more interested in what they could get from their association with Jesus than they were in how to serve God. Jesus was there to make them confront this truth, and he led with their possible denials and excuses before they could even bring them up. How infuriating is it when someone knows you well enough to do that!
Imagine yourself as one of the people at the synagogue that day. You begin the day excited and proud that a man that you have known your whole life, a friend and neighbor who has begun to make a name for himself as a teacher, has returned home to lead the service. His skill as a preacher is breathtaking and the synagogue is filled with murmurs of proud satisfaction. Suddenly, the tone of the murmurs change as people begin to realize that Jesus is pointing out the flaws and shortcomings of those gathered. How dare he! That ungrateful jerk! The murmur turns into calls for violence and shouts. The crowd has become an angry mob and before you know it, the gathering has moved outside to the edge of a cliff. How did you get here? The cool darkness of the synagogue has given way to the bright sunlight of the outdoors, and you realize that you are contemplating murder. The harsh voice of the mob begins to separate into individual voices as people begin to wonder who will actually take the next step -- to step forward, grab Jesus, and hurl him over the edge. As the moment passes, the voices begin to quiet as Jesus passes through the crowd and goes on his way. How angry will these people be when they learn that he goes straight to Capernaum and exorcises a demon!
What is the truth that the gospel reveals about our present? Are we, like Jeremiah, unwilling to step up and do what God has asked of us? Do we let our traditions become more important than the reason that we worship? Have we heard the words of scripture so many times that it no longer has the power to make us think, much less act? Today’s reading reminds us that God does not exist to serve us, but that we exist to serve God. AMEN
Individually, today’s lectionary readings have some striking language and images. Psalm 19’s proclamation: “The law of the Lord is perfect; the decrees of the Lord are sure;the precepts of the Lord are right; the commandment of the Lord is clear; the fear of the Lord is pure; the ordinances of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.” Leads us to the story of Ezra reading from the book of the law to the Jews who have returned to Jerusalem from exile. They weep, not because the reading goes on from daybreak to midday, but from a mixture of sorrow at having disappointed their God and joy that their city and temple have been rebuilt. The culminating verse, "Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." builds on the ideas of the Psalm.
In the second lesson, Paul addresses the church in Corinth, which is splitting into factions. He explains that they are dependant on one another as the different parts of the body are dependant upon each other: “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.” This reading ends with a series of questions: “ Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak in tongues? Do all interpret?” and a piece of advice, “But strive for the greater gifts.” On the surface, it might seem like we are supposed to answer “no” to all of these questions and find satisfaction in our lesser (but still vital) role. Going back to the metaphor of the body, even if I am only an eyelash, I should still feel the reflected importance of the entire body.
I would argue that all of us can answer “yes” to most of Paul’s questions especially -- and most importantly -- the first. Yes, we refer to the 12 original disciples and Paul as the apostles, but the definition of apostle includes “a commissioned member of a congregation,” and synonyms include “messenger.” In our baptisms, “We are united with all the baptized in the one body of Christ, anointed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and joined in God’s mission for the light of the world.” This is our commission!
This leads us right into the gospel reading: Jesus reads from Isaiah, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." Do you see the pieces coming together? Like Ezra, Jesus stands before the people to celebrate the dawning of a new age by reading the Word from a scroll. The words that Jesus shares were written during the time of the Babylonian Exile, further reinforcing the connection. Jesus speaks of being anointed with the Spirit -- words that were used at our baptisms. The passage that Jesus reads refers to the year of Jubilee: “The Year of the Jubilee involved a year of release from indebtedness and all types of bondage. All prisoners and captives were set free, all slaves were released, all debts were forgiven, and all property was returned to its original owners. In addition, all labor was to cease for one year, and those bound by labor contracts were released from them.” It is not clear that this practice was actually ever followed, but you can see how it might be viewed as a good news/bad news message depending on your status in society.
It is tempting to view the eventual heavenly reward as a form of justice for those who have suffered here on earth. That is why such luminaries as Karl Marx and Jesse Ventura described it as “an opiate for the masses.” Instead, this is an invitation for us to accept the fact that we are all in need. In the beatitudes, Jesus says “blessed are the poor in spirit,” and “blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake” we confess that we are in bondage to sin, the prophet Jeremiah said, “Hear this, O foolish and senseless people, who have eyes, but do not see,” which evolved into the expression, there are none so blind as those who will not see. In God there is unfathomable abundance given to all people who are willing to use their eyes to see and their ears to hear the Word.This day is holy to our Lord. The joy of the Lord is our strength. AMEN
In the second lesson, Paul addresses the church in Corinth, which is splitting into factions. He explains that they are dependant on one another as the different parts of the body are dependant upon each other: “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.” This reading ends with a series of questions: “ Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak in tongues? Do all interpret?” and a piece of advice, “But strive for the greater gifts.” On the surface, it might seem like we are supposed to answer “no” to all of these questions and find satisfaction in our lesser (but still vital) role. Going back to the metaphor of the body, even if I am only an eyelash, I should still feel the reflected importance of the entire body.
I would argue that all of us can answer “yes” to most of Paul’s questions especially -- and most importantly -- the first. Yes, we refer to the 12 original disciples and Paul as the apostles, but the definition of apostle includes “a commissioned member of a congregation,” and synonyms include “messenger.” In our baptisms, “We are united with all the baptized in the one body of Christ, anointed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and joined in God’s mission for the light of the world.” This is our commission!
This leads us right into the gospel reading: Jesus reads from Isaiah, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." Do you see the pieces coming together? Like Ezra, Jesus stands before the people to celebrate the dawning of a new age by reading the Word from a scroll. The words that Jesus shares were written during the time of the Babylonian Exile, further reinforcing the connection. Jesus speaks of being anointed with the Spirit -- words that were used at our baptisms. The passage that Jesus reads refers to the year of Jubilee: “The Year of the Jubilee involved a year of release from indebtedness and all types of bondage. All prisoners and captives were set free, all slaves were released, all debts were forgiven, and all property was returned to its original owners. In addition, all labor was to cease for one year, and those bound by labor contracts were released from them.” It is not clear that this practice was actually ever followed, but you can see how it might be viewed as a good news/bad news message depending on your status in society.
It is tempting to view the eventual heavenly reward as a form of justice for those who have suffered here on earth. That is why such luminaries as Karl Marx and Jesse Ventura described it as “an opiate for the masses.” Instead, this is an invitation for us to accept the fact that we are all in need. In the beatitudes, Jesus says “blessed are the poor in spirit,” and “blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake” we confess that we are in bondage to sin, the prophet Jeremiah said, “Hear this, O foolish and senseless people, who have eyes, but do not see,” which evolved into the expression, there are none so blind as those who will not see. In God there is unfathomable abundance given to all people who are willing to use their eyes to see and their ears to hear the Word.This day is holy to our Lord. The joy of the Lord is our strength. AMEN
There are many reasons that a text can be challenging to preach on: It may be so familiar that it is difficult to think of anything fresh to say about it. It may require a great deal of historical background to provide context for understanding. It may deal with a controversial topic. It might not engage my interest. None of these apply to the story of the wedding at Cana. Yes, the story is familiar. Almost any confirmand can tell you that when Jesus turned water into wine at the wedding at Cana, Jesus turned water into wine at the wedding at Cana. It helps to know that the wedding that Jesus attended had probably been arranged some time earlier so that the groom could prepare a home for his bride and so that the family could save up for a multi-day feast, but we have a pretty good understanding of what happens at a wedding reception when the booze runs out. There is no real controversy unless we choose to depict Jesus as being disrespectful to Mary or the wedding party as a drunken free-for-all. I certainly find the story interesting, so why has it given me such trouble?
My biggest problem with this reading is that there is just too much there. Instead of launching some sort of tour de force, Jesus brings his disciples along to a wedding to which his family is invited in a small village a few miles from his home. There is no indication that the couple is related to anyone important and no record of any dignitaries in attendance. This seems to be a celebration of two simple families celebrating with the community the marriage of their children with a traditional feast. The incident that makes this an event worth recording, running out of wine and the potential resulting social consequences, don’t seem particularly noteworthy either. Surely Jesus could have found a demon to cast out, a sick person to heal, or, better yet, a dead person to raise for his coming out. It is no wonder that Jesus has a reply along the lines of, “why should we care?” when Mary tells him that the wine has run out.
It is at this point that the story takes on a little luster. Perhaps the rest of Jesus answer, “My hour has not yet come." reminds Mary of their discussion when she and Joseph found the 13-year-old Jesus in the temple in Jerusalem. At that time, He had asked, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” She did not understand at the time, Jesus went home to Nazareth and was obedient to his parents, and Mary treasured all these things in her heart. At the wedding, Mary has an epiphany. She understands, before Jesus does, that it is time for him to be about the Lord’s work. Instead of trying to persuade Jesus to take action, she turns to the servants, saying, "Do whatever he tells you."
I wonder why the servants followed Jesus’ directions instead of pointing out that it was wine that they lacked, not water. I would like to think that they sensed, as Mary did, that they could trust Jesus, even if they couldn’t understand what he was up to. They fill the jars, and a huge quantity of wine of exceptional quality is the result. I know that it was remarkable because the chief steward remarked upon it. In spite of the fact that this wine has appeared out of nowhere, there is no indication that anyone looked into it. It seems that the party just went on. People enjoying Christ’s bounty without acknowledging it -- there just might be a lesson there for us.
The reading concludes with perhaps the richest verse of the passage, “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” John’s Jesus is all about signs -- not miracles. The changing of water into wine is not an end in itself; it is meant to point us to a better understanding of Jesus and his ministry. We learn that Jesus is the kind of person who can join in our celebrations, no matter how humble they may be. He cares enough to deal with a relatively minor problem with an astounding abundance without worrying about getting credit. Only Mary and the disciples—and the servants who had done Jesus’ bidding—realized what had happened. His Glory is revealed, not through ostentatious displays, but through the meeting of everyday needs. The disciples believed in him, but they couldn’t be expected to grasp the fullness of his Glory. The story of Jesus is a story told at the margins as those with eyes to see and ears to hear -- those not so caught up in their preconceptions that they closed themselves off from understanding -- receive a Savior who is truly one of them, yet fully divine. AMEN
My biggest problem with this reading is that there is just too much there. Instead of launching some sort of tour de force, Jesus brings his disciples along to a wedding to which his family is invited in a small village a few miles from his home. There is no indication that the couple is related to anyone important and no record of any dignitaries in attendance. This seems to be a celebration of two simple families celebrating with the community the marriage of their children with a traditional feast. The incident that makes this an event worth recording, running out of wine and the potential resulting social consequences, don’t seem particularly noteworthy either. Surely Jesus could have found a demon to cast out, a sick person to heal, or, better yet, a dead person to raise for his coming out. It is no wonder that Jesus has a reply along the lines of, “why should we care?” when Mary tells him that the wine has run out.
It is at this point that the story takes on a little luster. Perhaps the rest of Jesus answer, “My hour has not yet come." reminds Mary of their discussion when she and Joseph found the 13-year-old Jesus in the temple in Jerusalem. At that time, He had asked, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” She did not understand at the time, Jesus went home to Nazareth and was obedient to his parents, and Mary treasured all these things in her heart. At the wedding, Mary has an epiphany. She understands, before Jesus does, that it is time for him to be about the Lord’s work. Instead of trying to persuade Jesus to take action, she turns to the servants, saying, "Do whatever he tells you."
I wonder why the servants followed Jesus’ directions instead of pointing out that it was wine that they lacked, not water. I would like to think that they sensed, as Mary did, that they could trust Jesus, even if they couldn’t understand what he was up to. They fill the jars, and a huge quantity of wine of exceptional quality is the result. I know that it was remarkable because the chief steward remarked upon it. In spite of the fact that this wine has appeared out of nowhere, there is no indication that anyone looked into it. It seems that the party just went on. People enjoying Christ’s bounty without acknowledging it -- there just might be a lesson there for us.
The reading concludes with perhaps the richest verse of the passage, “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” John’s Jesus is all about signs -- not miracles. The changing of water into wine is not an end in itself; it is meant to point us to a better understanding of Jesus and his ministry. We learn that Jesus is the kind of person who can join in our celebrations, no matter how humble they may be. He cares enough to deal with a relatively minor problem with an astounding abundance without worrying about getting credit. Only Mary and the disciples—and the servants who had done Jesus’ bidding—realized what had happened. His Glory is revealed, not through ostentatious displays, but through the meeting of everyday needs. The disciples believed in him, but they couldn’t be expected to grasp the fullness of his Glory. The story of Jesus is a story told at the margins as those with eyes to see and ears to hear -- those not so caught up in their preconceptions that they closed themselves off from understanding -- receive a Savior who is truly one of them, yet fully divine. AMEN
Today’s gospel reading begins, “As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah.” In the season of Epiphany, we observe the events in the life of Jesus that “prove” to us that he is the Messiah: the Nativity, the visit of the Wise Men, Christ’s baptism, and the turning of water into wine at the wedding at Cana.
Of course, it is difficult to understand the importance of events as they are happening. For example, think about how you met your spouse or how your parents met. Did they know the instant that they met their best friend’s little sister, were put in the same math class, rode the same school bus, or attended the same dance that they were in the presence of the person with whom they might spend the rest of their lives? In order to meet my wife, I had to fall off of a grain dryer. By the time of Jesus’ baptism, the few people who had been aware of his birth seem to have forgotten about it. For thirty years, he has lived and worked among the people of Nazareth, who have no idea of who he is. Mary and Joseph had been reminded when they brought Jesus to the temple for his dedication and when, at the age of 13, he stayed behind to visit with the teachers in the temple, but even they did not understand who their son was.
The way that Luke presents the baptism could hardly be more low-key. In the verses that the lectionary skips, we are told that John has been jailed by Herod, so Luke’s account skips over both the who and the where of the baptism. All that we get is, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” Religious scholars have argued for years about why Jesus was baptized. After all, John’s was a baptism of repentance for sin and Jesus was without sin. Luke neatly avoids this controversy by switching the focus to what comes before the baptism -- John’s explanation that he is merely a forerunner of the Messiah, and what comes after -- the opening of the heavens, the descent of the Holy Spirit in bodily form like a dove and the declaration by God, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
The other two major religions that include Jesus dismiss him as messiah largely because they reject our idea of a triune God. This incident shows the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit working together. Notice that Luke says that the Holy Spirit appears “in bodily form like a dove.” This is not meant to be read as a symbol or a simile to explain what the Spirit might be like. Luke’s Holy Spirit has substance. This doesn’t mean that anyone noticed, much less understood, what had happened. It isn’t clear whether everyone could hear the voice from Heaven or if only Jesus could hear. The others in the area were probably caught up in their own thoughts and conversations, as people usually are. Even if they did pay attention, they had no real context for understanding beyond what John the Baptist had told them. Perhaps a few, like Mary at the Nativity and in the temple, treasured these things in their hearts, thought about them, and analyzed them in light of later experiences.
If you look at the Nicene Creed, you might notice that most of what we confess to believe has already happened. It is only the end of the second section, “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.” and the end of the creed “We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.” that mention future events. The season of Epiphany is an excellent time for us to think about what those sections of the Creed mean to us. AMEN
Of course, it is difficult to understand the importance of events as they are happening. For example, think about how you met your spouse or how your parents met. Did they know the instant that they met their best friend’s little sister, were put in the same math class, rode the same school bus, or attended the same dance that they were in the presence of the person with whom they might spend the rest of their lives? In order to meet my wife, I had to fall off of a grain dryer. By the time of Jesus’ baptism, the few people who had been aware of his birth seem to have forgotten about it. For thirty years, he has lived and worked among the people of Nazareth, who have no idea of who he is. Mary and Joseph had been reminded when they brought Jesus to the temple for his dedication and when, at the age of 13, he stayed behind to visit with the teachers in the temple, but even they did not understand who their son was.
The way that Luke presents the baptism could hardly be more low-key. In the verses that the lectionary skips, we are told that John has been jailed by Herod, so Luke’s account skips over both the who and the where of the baptism. All that we get is, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” Religious scholars have argued for years about why Jesus was baptized. After all, John’s was a baptism of repentance for sin and Jesus was without sin. Luke neatly avoids this controversy by switching the focus to what comes before the baptism -- John’s explanation that he is merely a forerunner of the Messiah, and what comes after -- the opening of the heavens, the descent of the Holy Spirit in bodily form like a dove and the declaration by God, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
The other two major religions that include Jesus dismiss him as messiah largely because they reject our idea of a triune God. This incident shows the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit working together. Notice that Luke says that the Holy Spirit appears “in bodily form like a dove.” This is not meant to be read as a symbol or a simile to explain what the Spirit might be like. Luke’s Holy Spirit has substance. This doesn’t mean that anyone noticed, much less understood, what had happened. It isn’t clear whether everyone could hear the voice from Heaven or if only Jesus could hear. The others in the area were probably caught up in their own thoughts and conversations, as people usually are. Even if they did pay attention, they had no real context for understanding beyond what John the Baptist had told them. Perhaps a few, like Mary at the Nativity and in the temple, treasured these things in their hearts, thought about them, and analyzed them in light of later experiences.
If you look at the Nicene Creed, you might notice that most of what we confess to believe has already happened. It is only the end of the second section, “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.” and the end of the creed “We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.” that mention future events. The season of Epiphany is an excellent time for us to think about what those sections of the Creed mean to us. AMEN
This year the Epiphany of Our Lord falls on a Sunday. “Epiphany originally celebrated four different events in the life of Jesus: Baptism, wherein Jesus was revealed as the Son of God; Christ’s first miracle at the wedding at Cana, where Jesus demonstrates His power to perform miracles; the Nativity (which we now celebrate earlier as Christmas); and the visit of the wise men, where the baby Messiah is revealed as the light of the nations.” This feast has now been stretched out as a bridge between Christmas and Lent that lasts until Transfiguration Sunday, the Sunday before Ash Wednesday.
An epiphany is a moment of sudden insight or understanding of the essential nature of meaning of something. It is usually the result of an event or occurrence that is simple, yet striking. “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” Isn’t this passage the perfect example of something simple, yet striking?
Today’s epiphany is that experienced by the men we call wise. Gallons of ink have been spilled analyzing this part of the story: Is it real, or did Matthew make it up in order to make a point? How many wise men were there (estimates have ranged from one to twelve)? Who were these men, really -- kings, priests, astronomers? Where did they come from? How long after Jesus’ birth did they arrive? Did they have names? In my opinion, these are all questions of mind over matter -- if we don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. There is truth to be found in the story of these mystery men.
First of all, no matter how many there were, where they came from, or what their profession was, these men were not Israelites. They may have come from a place where displaced Jews had shared their faith, but these men were Gentiles. Their question to Herod, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” shows that the prediction of the Messiah has intersected with an interest in astrology enough to inspire a trip to Jerusalem. This often leads scholars down the rabbit hole of attempting to figure out what it was that the Magi saw. I like the simplest answer the best: like the Shepherds in the fields, “the glory of the Lord shown around them.” Remember that the definition of an epiphany includes an event or experience that is simple, yet striking. In his introduction, John said, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” What could be more simple and striking than a light in the darkness?
If the Magi noticed the light, it was because they were looking for it. They went to Jerusalem because that was the logical place to find the King of the Jews. They must have been surprised when they arrived to see that nobody else seemed the least bit interested in the birth of the king. Herod calls together the religious leaders to find out where the king is to be born, and they find the answer in the prophecies of Micah. Think about this for a moment -- the chief priests and scribes are told of a sign that a prophecy has been fulfilled, yet NOBODY accompanies the Magi to Bethlehem. At this point, “ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was.” We might infer that the light appeared to inspire the Magi, disappeared while they traveled to Jerusalem, and then reappeared once their hunch was verified by scripture. If the star was the glory of the Lord, it wouldn’t have worked that way because the Glory of the Lord shines eternally -- it doesn’t just appear when we seek it. In other words, we don’t find God because God has never been lost.
When the Magi arrived, “they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” Much has been made of the specific gifts that were given: gold for Jesus the King, frankincense for Jesus the Priest, and Myrrh for Jesus the sacrifice. By focusing on the gifts, we miss the simple act of faith as these Gentile men kneel down before an infant, convinced by their own experience, their own encounter, their own epiphany. They get that there just might be more to the story than what they have been told. And therein lies the heart of our Christian faith. In the song that we have been using as our offertory hymn, we ask, “What can I give him, poor as I am?” The hymn suggests that we offer our hearts, but how? Fortunately, scripture gives us the answer: ‘“ruly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.” AMEN
An epiphany is a moment of sudden insight or understanding of the essential nature of meaning of something. It is usually the result of an event or occurrence that is simple, yet striking. “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” Isn’t this passage the perfect example of something simple, yet striking?
Today’s epiphany is that experienced by the men we call wise. Gallons of ink have been spilled analyzing this part of the story: Is it real, or did Matthew make it up in order to make a point? How many wise men were there (estimates have ranged from one to twelve)? Who were these men, really -- kings, priests, astronomers? Where did they come from? How long after Jesus’ birth did they arrive? Did they have names? In my opinion, these are all questions of mind over matter -- if we don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. There is truth to be found in the story of these mystery men.
First of all, no matter how many there were, where they came from, or what their profession was, these men were not Israelites. They may have come from a place where displaced Jews had shared their faith, but these men were Gentiles. Their question to Herod, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” shows that the prediction of the Messiah has intersected with an interest in astrology enough to inspire a trip to Jerusalem. This often leads scholars down the rabbit hole of attempting to figure out what it was that the Magi saw. I like the simplest answer the best: like the Shepherds in the fields, “the glory of the Lord shown around them.” Remember that the definition of an epiphany includes an event or experience that is simple, yet striking. In his introduction, John said, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” What could be more simple and striking than a light in the darkness?
If the Magi noticed the light, it was because they were looking for it. They went to Jerusalem because that was the logical place to find the King of the Jews. They must have been surprised when they arrived to see that nobody else seemed the least bit interested in the birth of the king. Herod calls together the religious leaders to find out where the king is to be born, and they find the answer in the prophecies of Micah. Think about this for a moment -- the chief priests and scribes are told of a sign that a prophecy has been fulfilled, yet NOBODY accompanies the Magi to Bethlehem. At this point, “ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was.” We might infer that the light appeared to inspire the Magi, disappeared while they traveled to Jerusalem, and then reappeared once their hunch was verified by scripture. If the star was the glory of the Lord, it wouldn’t have worked that way because the Glory of the Lord shines eternally -- it doesn’t just appear when we seek it. In other words, we don’t find God because God has never been lost.
When the Magi arrived, “they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” Much has been made of the specific gifts that were given: gold for Jesus the King, frankincense for Jesus the Priest, and Myrrh for Jesus the sacrifice. By focusing on the gifts, we miss the simple act of faith as these Gentile men kneel down before an infant, convinced by their own experience, their own encounter, their own epiphany. They get that there just might be more to the story than what they have been told. And therein lies the heart of our Christian faith. In the song that we have been using as our offertory hymn, we ask, “What can I give him, poor as I am?” The hymn suggests that we offer our hearts, but how? Fortunately, scripture gives us the answer: ‘“ruly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.” AMEN
Merry Christmas!
Does it feel awkward using that greeting almost a week after the holiday? All of the trappings of Christmas were on clearance on Wednesday; the world is ready to move on to the next thing, which is… Valentines Day? If we look at the word Christmas, it is pretty simple: Christ + Mas(s) = Christmas. As an adjective, the word mass means, relating to, done by, or affecting large numbers of people or things as in mass appeal or mass hysteria. As a verb, it means to assemble or cause to assemble as one body as in the refugees massed at the border crossing. As a noun, the masses are the ordinary people as in the unwashed masses. We don’t call our services masses, but we get the general idea.. So we could say that the mass appeal of the Christmas holiday caused many to mass at mass on Christmas Eve, while even the masses who didn’t attend services observed the holiday. Whew!
The liturgical use of the word mass comes from the Latin and actually refers to the prayer at the conclusion of a liturgy, sharing a root meaning with the word “dismiss.” Literally speaking, mass begins when we are dismissed from the service. Believe it or not, this leads us to today’s gospel reading! Today’s reading is important because it is the only glimpse we have into the lives of the Holy Family between Jesus’ circumcision and his baptism. Yes, there are gospels not included in the Bible that claim to tell the story of Jesus as a youth, but they were written much later and have been widely discredited. The single story that we have shows us both how Jesus begins to separate himself from the masses and how he returns to living among the masses.
Jesus was raised in a dedicated Jewish household. Both of his parents traveled to Jerusalem for the Passover every year, even though only Joseph was responsible for attending. They stayed for the whole eight days, although only the first two were required. It is likely that Joseph also made the trip to Jerusalem for the two other major religious festivals as well, in spite of the fact that the family was poor and he was the sole breadwinner. At the age of 12, Jesus was ready to demonstrate his understanding of the Torah in sort of a Bar Mitzvah, or as the church has traditionally asked confirmands to do. His performance with the teachers at the temple shows that he was more than prepared -- “all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.” This is the point where he rose above the masses, and it is also where we hear Jesus speak for the first time when he says to Mary, "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" This could also be translated, “I must be about my Father’s business.” To this point, all signs of Jesus’ special nature have been to or through others: the angel, Mary, Elizabeth, Zechariah, shepherds, Simeon, and Anna, but now he claims it for himself.
Barclay argues that this is the moment when Jesus realized who he was, so why did he go home with Mary and Joseph and why was he “obedient to them?” Even if he wasn’t ready to begin his ministry at the age of 12, wasn’t it time to apprentice him as when Samuel learned under Eli? Instead, Jesus waits another 18 years and begins his ministry seemingly from a standing start. Instead of trying to understand, maybe we should take our cue from Mary who again, “treasured all these things in her heart.” We could also learn from Jesus that the way to the Father is to be about the Father’s business. As Paul puts it, “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful.” AMEN
Does it feel awkward using that greeting almost a week after the holiday? All of the trappings of Christmas were on clearance on Wednesday; the world is ready to move on to the next thing, which is… Valentines Day? If we look at the word Christmas, it is pretty simple: Christ + Mas(s) = Christmas. As an adjective, the word mass means, relating to, done by, or affecting large numbers of people or things as in mass appeal or mass hysteria. As a verb, it means to assemble or cause to assemble as one body as in the refugees massed at the border crossing. As a noun, the masses are the ordinary people as in the unwashed masses. We don’t call our services masses, but we get the general idea.. So we could say that the mass appeal of the Christmas holiday caused many to mass at mass on Christmas Eve, while even the masses who didn’t attend services observed the holiday. Whew!
The liturgical use of the word mass comes from the Latin and actually refers to the prayer at the conclusion of a liturgy, sharing a root meaning with the word “dismiss.” Literally speaking, mass begins when we are dismissed from the service. Believe it or not, this leads us to today’s gospel reading! Today’s reading is important because it is the only glimpse we have into the lives of the Holy Family between Jesus’ circumcision and his baptism. Yes, there are gospels not included in the Bible that claim to tell the story of Jesus as a youth, but they were written much later and have been widely discredited. The single story that we have shows us both how Jesus begins to separate himself from the masses and how he returns to living among the masses.
Jesus was raised in a dedicated Jewish household. Both of his parents traveled to Jerusalem for the Passover every year, even though only Joseph was responsible for attending. They stayed for the whole eight days, although only the first two were required. It is likely that Joseph also made the trip to Jerusalem for the two other major religious festivals as well, in spite of the fact that the family was poor and he was the sole breadwinner. At the age of 12, Jesus was ready to demonstrate his understanding of the Torah in sort of a Bar Mitzvah, or as the church has traditionally asked confirmands to do. His performance with the teachers at the temple shows that he was more than prepared -- “all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.” This is the point where he rose above the masses, and it is also where we hear Jesus speak for the first time when he says to Mary, "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" This could also be translated, “I must be about my Father’s business.” To this point, all signs of Jesus’ special nature have been to or through others: the angel, Mary, Elizabeth, Zechariah, shepherds, Simeon, and Anna, but now he claims it for himself.
Barclay argues that this is the moment when Jesus realized who he was, so why did he go home with Mary and Joseph and why was he “obedient to them?” Even if he wasn’t ready to begin his ministry at the age of 12, wasn’t it time to apprentice him as when Samuel learned under Eli? Instead, Jesus waits another 18 years and begins his ministry seemingly from a standing start. Instead of trying to understand, maybe we should take our cue from Mary who again, “treasured all these things in her heart.” We could also learn from Jesus that the way to the Father is to be about the Father’s business. As Paul puts it, “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful.” AMEN
I remember whether or not my family always went to church on Christmas eve, but I do know that Luke’s nativity story was always read before we opened our presents. I don’t know which version of the Bible we had, but Mary and Joseph were “betrothed,” the shepherds were “sore afraid,” and Jesus was wrapped in “swaddling clothes.” I find it interesting the the early church wasn’t really that interested in celebrating Jesus’ birth. Epiphany, which is celebrated on January 6th, was seen as much more important. That makes sense because it was an observation of the baptism of Jesus, which included the revelation that Jesus was the Son of God and marked the beginning of His ministry.
Looking at the way that Luke tells the story, it isn’t surprising that it took a while for the church to observe Christmas -- it just isn’t a “high church” kind of story: Mary and Joseph are nobodies from nowhere -- a young girl and a carpenter. They are so poor that Joseph can’t even afford to have someone stay with his pregnant wife, so she has to walk 80 miles to Bethlehem. The birth itself is hardly miraculous: “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” When the angels finally appear, they aren’t even at the site of the birth. Instead, they appear to shepherds… that’s right… shepherds -- a class of people so looked down upon that their testimony was not admissible in court, and many towns had ordinances barring them from their city limits -- not to mention the fact that they were ritually unclean! To top it all off, the long-awaited messiah appears not as an angel, a lion, or an eagle, but as a normal, human infant. Even Martin Luther said, “If I had come to Bethlehem and seen it, I would have said: “This does not make sense. Can this be the Messiah? This is sheer nonsense.” I would not have let myself be found inside the stable.”
All of that is just fine with me because I’m not high-church either.The brilliance of Luke’s story lies in its simplicity. Luke shows us that God works through miracles, and that he works without them too. I’m not sure that I have ever witnessed a true miracle, but I can certainly identify with the vulnerability of first-time parents and a newborn baby. I can empathize with the mix of fear and hope that lead Mary and Joseph to accept their responsibility. How many of us are experiencing mixed emotions as we worry about the state of the country, how we are going to pay our bills, concern for loved ones with health issues? Mary and Joseph are people like us. The one attribute that set them apart was faith. If God could work through them, he can work through us as well.
And what about that helpless little baby lying in the manger? As far as we know, only the shepherds paid any attention to the little family, and it is only through them that Mary and Joseph know about the heavenly host appearing. Luther said that more people would have noticed if a dog had whelped or a cow had calved in the stable. “That there was no room in the inn was symbolic of what was to happen to Jesus. The only place where there was room for Him was on the cross. He sought an entry to the overcrowded hearts of men; He could not find it; and still His search -- and his rejection-- go on.” This little story about ordinary people holds the entire truth of our faith. Christmas means that God not only created space and time: God entered them, became our flesh and blood, our kin, our child.
“ The revelation of God is to be found in Jesus, embodied in his very person. Jesus may indeed speak the words of God, but even more centrally, he IS God’s creating word.” AMEN
Looking at the way that Luke tells the story, it isn’t surprising that it took a while for the church to observe Christmas -- it just isn’t a “high church” kind of story: Mary and Joseph are nobodies from nowhere -- a young girl and a carpenter. They are so poor that Joseph can’t even afford to have someone stay with his pregnant wife, so she has to walk 80 miles to Bethlehem. The birth itself is hardly miraculous: “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” When the angels finally appear, they aren’t even at the site of the birth. Instead, they appear to shepherds… that’s right… shepherds -- a class of people so looked down upon that their testimony was not admissible in court, and many towns had ordinances barring them from their city limits -- not to mention the fact that they were ritually unclean! To top it all off, the long-awaited messiah appears not as an angel, a lion, or an eagle, but as a normal, human infant. Even Martin Luther said, “If I had come to Bethlehem and seen it, I would have said: “This does not make sense. Can this be the Messiah? This is sheer nonsense.” I would not have let myself be found inside the stable.”
All of that is just fine with me because I’m not high-church either.The brilliance of Luke’s story lies in its simplicity. Luke shows us that God works through miracles, and that he works without them too. I’m not sure that I have ever witnessed a true miracle, but I can certainly identify with the vulnerability of first-time parents and a newborn baby. I can empathize with the mix of fear and hope that lead Mary and Joseph to accept their responsibility. How many of us are experiencing mixed emotions as we worry about the state of the country, how we are going to pay our bills, concern for loved ones with health issues? Mary and Joseph are people like us. The one attribute that set them apart was faith. If God could work through them, he can work through us as well.
And what about that helpless little baby lying in the manger? As far as we know, only the shepherds paid any attention to the little family, and it is only through them that Mary and Joseph know about the heavenly host appearing. Luther said that more people would have noticed if a dog had whelped or a cow had calved in the stable. “That there was no room in the inn was symbolic of what was to happen to Jesus. The only place where there was room for Him was on the cross. He sought an entry to the overcrowded hearts of men; He could not find it; and still His search -- and his rejection-- go on.” This little story about ordinary people holds the entire truth of our faith. Christmas means that God not only created space and time: God entered them, became our flesh and blood, our kin, our child.
“ The revelation of God is to be found in Jesus, embodied in his very person. Jesus may indeed speak the words of God, but even more centrally, he IS God’s creating word.” AMEN
It can be difficult to follow the lectionary during Advent. We began in Luke 21 with apocalyptic visions and warnings about the coming of the Kingdom of God from Jesus, who was preparing the disciples for his death. The middle two weeks were taken up with the story of John the Baptist as an adult. Today, we jump back two chapters and 30 years to the time immediately following the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary. Gabriel’s last words before departing are, “your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”
Our reading begins, “In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.” There are many different reasons why Marry might have hurried off to see Elizabeth, but the one that makes the most sense is that she has taken Gabriel’s message about Elizabeth as a sign. Martin Luther said that the Virgin’s faith was a greater miracle than the Virgin birth. She has just accepted news that is completely unbelievable as true, and there is no evidence to reassure her. Even if she conceived at the very moment of the promise, there was no accompanying sign -- not so much as a flash of light. It seems natural that she would want to bolster her faith by rushing off to see her pregnant relative.
There are also questions about how Elizabeth recognizes not only that Mary is pregnant, but that her baby will be the Lord. The simplest explanation is that Mary and Elizabeth greeted each other. The two lived 80-90 miles from each other, so it wasn’t like they were in regular contact (especially considering that there was no phone, internet, or postal service). Their greeting was surely far more than a quick hello -- it probably took place as a long, catching-up discussion which included, of course, their nearly identical stories about Gabriel’s visits. If anyone was prepared to understand and accept Mary’s story, it was Elizabeth. The other explanation for Elizabeth’s understanding comes directly from the text: “And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘"Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.’” Biblically speaking, being filled with the Holy Spirit means that God is speaking through you, as at Pentecost when the disciples “were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.” Also, John has given his first prophecy by leaping in the womb at the sound of Mary’s voice.
Elizabeth’s words, “And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord." serve both as a barb for Zechariah, who didn’t believe what Gabriel told him until he was struck dumb, and as a transition from her story to Mary’s. Elizabeth is old and her son will close an age; Mary is young and her son will usher in the new.
The Magnificat is filled with imagery from the Old Testament, especially, “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” Just as choosing a young nobody from nowhere to bear his son, God is turning the human world upside-down -- except it hasn’t been turned upside-down, has it? The powerful are still powerful, the rich are still rich, and the hungry are still hungry. Instead of measuring relative prosperity, maybe the point is more a change of mindset from scarcity to abundance. When we focus on scarcity, we become selfish, but when we think in terms of abundance, we become generous. This is an oversimplification, but trusting in God frees us from selfishness. Take Mary as an example: she is still poor and unmarried. She knows that there are tremendous dangers and hardships ahead, but God has looked with favor on her lowliness, and all generations will call her blessed. As Luther said, her faith is miraculous. Ours can be too. AMEN
Our reading begins, “In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.” There are many different reasons why Marry might have hurried off to see Elizabeth, but the one that makes the most sense is that she has taken Gabriel’s message about Elizabeth as a sign. Martin Luther said that the Virgin’s faith was a greater miracle than the Virgin birth. She has just accepted news that is completely unbelievable as true, and there is no evidence to reassure her. Even if she conceived at the very moment of the promise, there was no accompanying sign -- not so much as a flash of light. It seems natural that she would want to bolster her faith by rushing off to see her pregnant relative.
There are also questions about how Elizabeth recognizes not only that Mary is pregnant, but that her baby will be the Lord. The simplest explanation is that Mary and Elizabeth greeted each other. The two lived 80-90 miles from each other, so it wasn’t like they were in regular contact (especially considering that there was no phone, internet, or postal service). Their greeting was surely far more than a quick hello -- it probably took place as a long, catching-up discussion which included, of course, their nearly identical stories about Gabriel’s visits. If anyone was prepared to understand and accept Mary’s story, it was Elizabeth. The other explanation for Elizabeth’s understanding comes directly from the text: “And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘"Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.’” Biblically speaking, being filled with the Holy Spirit means that God is speaking through you, as at Pentecost when the disciples “were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.” Also, John has given his first prophecy by leaping in the womb at the sound of Mary’s voice.
Elizabeth’s words, “And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord." serve both as a barb for Zechariah, who didn’t believe what Gabriel told him until he was struck dumb, and as a transition from her story to Mary’s. Elizabeth is old and her son will close an age; Mary is young and her son will usher in the new.
The Magnificat is filled with imagery from the Old Testament, especially, “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” Just as choosing a young nobody from nowhere to bear his son, God is turning the human world upside-down -- except it hasn’t been turned upside-down, has it? The powerful are still powerful, the rich are still rich, and the hungry are still hungry. Instead of measuring relative prosperity, maybe the point is more a change of mindset from scarcity to abundance. When we focus on scarcity, we become selfish, but when we think in terms of abundance, we become generous. This is an oversimplification, but trusting in God frees us from selfishness. Take Mary as an example: she is still poor and unmarried. She knows that there are tremendous dangers and hardships ahead, but God has looked with favor on her lowliness, and all generations will call her blessed. As Luther said, her faith is miraculous. Ours can be too. AMEN
For the next two weeks, our gospel readings will focus on John the Baptist, of whom Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater.” As a quick refresher, the angel Gabriel visited Zechariah at the temple and promised that he and his wife, Elizabeth, would have a son in spite of their advanced age saying, “It is he who will go as a forerunner before Him in the spirit and power of Elijah, “to turn the hearts of the fathers back to the children,” and the disobedient to the attitude of the righteous, so as to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.” Because Zechariah doubted the news, he was kept from speaking until the birth of the child. Mary visited Elizabeth, who was her cousin, while pregnant with Jesus, probably because she needed a place to lay low because of the circumstances of her pregnancy. When John was born, Zechariah said, “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on before the Lord to prepare His ways; To give to His people the knowledge of salvation By the forgiveness of their sins,
Because of the tender mercy of our God, With which the Sunrise from on high will visit us, To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, To guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:76-79)
John the Baptist’s ministry probably began only a few months before he baptized Jesus, and he was imprisoned shortly thereafter. He was imprisoned for somewhere in the neighborhood of two years before Herod Antipas had him killed at the request of Herodias. Other than the snippet we will hear next week and his questioning from prison of whether or not Jesus was really the messiah, we know very little about John the Baptist’s ministry. The first disciple, Andrew, was originally a follower of John’s. John the baptist is generally considered to be the last of the prophets -- standing in the gap between the Hebrew prophets of old (like Isaiah) and the promised prophet to come (Jesus). John serves as the hinge of history, drawing to a close the age of the law and the prophets and ushering in the age of redemption.
The beginning of today’s reading is a list of names in descending order of earthly importance, ending with the humble John the Baptist in the wilderness. Of course, Pilate and the high priests will be important figures in the trial of Jesus, and Herod is responsible for the death of John the Baptist. Whatever attracted the people to John, we know that people were flocking to him at the River Jordan for a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” The quote from Isaiah was originally directed to the people as a promise to the people of Israel that God would provide a smooth and easy return from Exile. In Luke, the promise is reinterpreted to apply to John. John is the one who is preparing the path, and the people are called to contribute through repentance.
The baptism that John proclaims is not to be confused with the baptism, the one baptism, which Jesus brings. Rather, this might best be understood as the daily efforts to live into the grace, which is out in Christ Jesus. The word repentance for John meant more than a change of mind. The word “conversion” probably comes closer in our language. This makes sense because John is trying to bring people to Jesus, who will, in turn, make it possible for them to have their sins forgiven. The quote from Isaiah ends with “ all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
This is where it can get sticky for a Lutheran. From a Catholic perspective, this passage works much better, as our works devoted to preparing the way of the Lord are seen as a natural response to the message of Christ. Personally, I don’t see any reason for dispute. If we believe that the message is for all people -- that all flesh shall see the salvation of God -- it would seem only reasonable that we would, in gratitude and joy, share the experience of Christ with others. Something drew people into the wilderness to John the Baptist. As a response to this week’s reading, I ask that you explore the wilderness times and places in your lives and to examine where and how God is present in them. In addition, think about where God needs to work in the world and where we need to proclaim the reality of his saving work. AMEN
For you will go on before the Lord to prepare His ways; To give to His people the knowledge of salvation By the forgiveness of their sins,
Because of the tender mercy of our God, With which the Sunrise from on high will visit us, To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, To guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:76-79)
John the Baptist’s ministry probably began only a few months before he baptized Jesus, and he was imprisoned shortly thereafter. He was imprisoned for somewhere in the neighborhood of two years before Herod Antipas had him killed at the request of Herodias. Other than the snippet we will hear next week and his questioning from prison of whether or not Jesus was really the messiah, we know very little about John the Baptist’s ministry. The first disciple, Andrew, was originally a follower of John’s. John the baptist is generally considered to be the last of the prophets -- standing in the gap between the Hebrew prophets of old (like Isaiah) and the promised prophet to come (Jesus). John serves as the hinge of history, drawing to a close the age of the law and the prophets and ushering in the age of redemption.
The beginning of today’s reading is a list of names in descending order of earthly importance, ending with the humble John the Baptist in the wilderness. Of course, Pilate and the high priests will be important figures in the trial of Jesus, and Herod is responsible for the death of John the Baptist. Whatever attracted the people to John, we know that people were flocking to him at the River Jordan for a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” The quote from Isaiah was originally directed to the people as a promise to the people of Israel that God would provide a smooth and easy return from Exile. In Luke, the promise is reinterpreted to apply to John. John is the one who is preparing the path, and the people are called to contribute through repentance.
The baptism that John proclaims is not to be confused with the baptism, the one baptism, which Jesus brings. Rather, this might best be understood as the daily efforts to live into the grace, which is out in Christ Jesus. The word repentance for John meant more than a change of mind. The word “conversion” probably comes closer in our language. This makes sense because John is trying to bring people to Jesus, who will, in turn, make it possible for them to have their sins forgiven. The quote from Isaiah ends with “ all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
This is where it can get sticky for a Lutheran. From a Catholic perspective, this passage works much better, as our works devoted to preparing the way of the Lord are seen as a natural response to the message of Christ. Personally, I don’t see any reason for dispute. If we believe that the message is for all people -- that all flesh shall see the salvation of God -- it would seem only reasonable that we would, in gratitude and joy, share the experience of Christ with others. Something drew people into the wilderness to John the Baptist. As a response to this week’s reading, I ask that you explore the wilderness times and places in your lives and to examine where and how God is present in them. In addition, think about where God needs to work in the world and where we need to proclaim the reality of his saving work. AMEN
Luke 21 begins all the way back with the story of the widow’s mite and includes Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of the temple. The disciples’ question in verse 7, “when will this happen and how will we know that it is about to happen,” leads to a long apocalyptic discourse by Jesus that is interspersed with advice for the disciples. Today’s reading reaches a turning point when Jesus says, “when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” This is followed by a parable that isn’t really complex enough to be a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.” In other words, you’ll know it when you see it.
So what is it that we are waiting for? As I mentioned last week, I am still a little confused about Advent. It seems strange to be simultaneously moving toward Jesus’ death and his birth. As I prepared for this sermon, I came across a reminder that the Gospel is full of paradox. Luke’s Jesus is both a baby born in a manger and “a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Jesus says “Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it” Later, Jesus asks the disciples, “Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division,” yet when he returns, he declares, “Peace to you!” Jesus was both fully divine and fully human. We are simultaneously sinners and saints. Jesus, the only sinless human, became the world’s biggest sinner when he took all of our sins to the cross. Jesus died so that we could have eternal life. To believe in God is to accept paradox and contradiction.
When I assigned papers, the first question was always, “how long does it need to be.” My answer was, “long enough to have a beginning, a middle, and an end.” Don’t we think of our lives in the same way? We are taken care of as children, we are independant and/or caregivers as adults, and we may need to be taken care of again in our old age. When this pattern is broken, we get upset. It is not surprising that Jesus has something to say about that. First, he says that the kingdom of God is near. We usually look at this as a reference to time, but what if we think of it as a matter of proximity? When Jesus continues, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away,” we are reminded that the kingdom of God is eternal. Yes, we are living in the time between the life of Jesus and the return of Jesus, but that does not mean that we are living outside of the kingdom. The original hearers of the Gospel knew that Jesus had died, descended, risen and ascended, so the point was clear -- “Jesus predicted this, it did happen, and it could happen again.” The second coming isn’t a deadline; it is an invitation to live in the kingdome. The warning that ends our reading, “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man," is not a warning of a future event, but a reminder that we need to live into the kingdom, to share in the Son of Man’s glory.
The message of Advent is to take the time to ask ourselves the question, “Am I living as if God is present?” and then to take the time to sit back and figure out what to do with our answer. If we believe in the Kingdom of God we will pray, and we will hope for those without much hope left. And one more thing, one more tough thing. We will work in the same direction as we hope. AMEN
So what is it that we are waiting for? As I mentioned last week, I am still a little confused about Advent. It seems strange to be simultaneously moving toward Jesus’ death and his birth. As I prepared for this sermon, I came across a reminder that the Gospel is full of paradox. Luke’s Jesus is both a baby born in a manger and “a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Jesus says “Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it” Later, Jesus asks the disciples, “Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division,” yet when he returns, he declares, “Peace to you!” Jesus was both fully divine and fully human. We are simultaneously sinners and saints. Jesus, the only sinless human, became the world’s biggest sinner when he took all of our sins to the cross. Jesus died so that we could have eternal life. To believe in God is to accept paradox and contradiction.
When I assigned papers, the first question was always, “how long does it need to be.” My answer was, “long enough to have a beginning, a middle, and an end.” Don’t we think of our lives in the same way? We are taken care of as children, we are independant and/or caregivers as adults, and we may need to be taken care of again in our old age. When this pattern is broken, we get upset. It is not surprising that Jesus has something to say about that. First, he says that the kingdom of God is near. We usually look at this as a reference to time, but what if we think of it as a matter of proximity? When Jesus continues, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away,” we are reminded that the kingdom of God is eternal. Yes, we are living in the time between the life of Jesus and the return of Jesus, but that does not mean that we are living outside of the kingdom. The original hearers of the Gospel knew that Jesus had died, descended, risen and ascended, so the point was clear -- “Jesus predicted this, it did happen, and it could happen again.” The second coming isn’t a deadline; it is an invitation to live in the kingdome. The warning that ends our reading, “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man," is not a warning of a future event, but a reminder that we need to live into the kingdom, to share in the Son of Man’s glory.
The message of Advent is to take the time to ask ourselves the question, “Am I living as if God is present?” and then to take the time to sit back and figure out what to do with our answer. If we believe in the Kingdom of God we will pray, and we will hope for those without much hope left. And one more thing, one more tough thing. We will work in the same direction as we hope. AMEN
Is it just me, or is the church calendar kind of confusing? Here we are one month before Christmas, and our gospel reading takes us right to the brink of the crucifixion. Looking ahead to Advent, we will begin with Luke 21, which comes before the plot to kill Jesus. After that, we spend two weeks with the preaching of John the baptist, which happened 30 years after the birth of Christ and several years before the crucifixion. The fourth Sunday of Advent, we will read from Luke 1, the story of Mary and Elizabeth. We just finished celebrating Thanksgiving, the rest of the world has been putting up Christmas decorations since just after Halloween, and here we are dancing up to the edge of Jesus’ death. Thank you for letting me get that off of my chest. I’ll talk more about Advent itself next week.
While we are on the topic of things that make me uncomfortable, I would like to mention the idea of God as king. Almost every time that the prayers call for “sovereign,” I substitute something else. I am much more comfortable with the image of God as father than I am with the idea of God as king. I am somewhat comforted in both of my issues by the history of Christ the King Sunday. “In 1925, Pope Pius XI instituted a new liturgical observance, the Feast of Christ the King. The Pope felt that the followers of Christ were being lured away by the increasing secularism of the world. They were choosing to live in the “kingdom” of the world rather than in the reign of God. Therefore, as we prepare to begin a new church year with the First Sunday of Advent, the coming of Jesus, not only in Bethlehem, but the second coming as well, we pause and reflect upon who Jesus the Christ is in our lives. To challenge our thinking we turn, not to stables and shepherds, but to the final trial of Jesus. If we are to live in God’s reign we, like Pilate, need to know who this man Jesus is, “are you Christ the King?”
The gospel reading for today plays out as a drama where Pilate and Jesus go back and forth. Pilate’s first words can carry different meanings depending on how they are delivered. ARE you the king of the Jews, or are YOU the king of the Jews, for example. I imagine that there is an air of sarcasm about Pilate. After all, he is being asked to intervene in something that is really a religious squabble. Jesus replies, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?" He is putting Pilate on the spot. Pilate again seems to be looking down upon Jesus and the whole situation when he says “I am not a Jew, am I? What have you done?”
Jesus reply, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here." is the heart of the passage. Part of the reason that the Jewish officials were so upset is that they had expected a messiah who would overturn the governments of the world and deliver the chosen people back to their rightful place. We repeat this when we claim that God is on the side of one political party or another, or one country or another. That does not mean, however, that God’s kingdom is not of this world. The Kingdom of God is a space. It exists in every home where parents and children love each other. It exists in every region and country that cares for its weak and vulnerable. It exists in every organization and person that reaches out to the needy. The Kingdom of God is a time. It happens whenever someone feeds a hungry person, or shelters a homeless person, or shows care to a neglected person. It happens whenever we overturn an unjust law, or correct an injustice, or avert a war. It happens whenever people join in the struggle to overcome poverty, to erase ignorance, to pass on the faith. The Kingdom of God is in the past (in the life and work of Jesus of Nazareth); it is in the present (in the work of the Church and in the efforts of many others to create a world of goodness and justice); it is in the future (reaching its completion in the age to come). The Kingdom of God is a condition. Its symptoms are love, justice, and peace. That is what Jesus means when he says, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." AMEN
While we are on the topic of things that make me uncomfortable, I would like to mention the idea of God as king. Almost every time that the prayers call for “sovereign,” I substitute something else. I am much more comfortable with the image of God as father than I am with the idea of God as king. I am somewhat comforted in both of my issues by the history of Christ the King Sunday. “In 1925, Pope Pius XI instituted a new liturgical observance, the Feast of Christ the King. The Pope felt that the followers of Christ were being lured away by the increasing secularism of the world. They were choosing to live in the “kingdom” of the world rather than in the reign of God. Therefore, as we prepare to begin a new church year with the First Sunday of Advent, the coming of Jesus, not only in Bethlehem, but the second coming as well, we pause and reflect upon who Jesus the Christ is in our lives. To challenge our thinking we turn, not to stables and shepherds, but to the final trial of Jesus. If we are to live in God’s reign we, like Pilate, need to know who this man Jesus is, “are you Christ the King?”
The gospel reading for today plays out as a drama where Pilate and Jesus go back and forth. Pilate’s first words can carry different meanings depending on how they are delivered. ARE you the king of the Jews, or are YOU the king of the Jews, for example. I imagine that there is an air of sarcasm about Pilate. After all, he is being asked to intervene in something that is really a religious squabble. Jesus replies, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?" He is putting Pilate on the spot. Pilate again seems to be looking down upon Jesus and the whole situation when he says “I am not a Jew, am I? What have you done?”
Jesus reply, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here." is the heart of the passage. Part of the reason that the Jewish officials were so upset is that they had expected a messiah who would overturn the governments of the world and deliver the chosen people back to their rightful place. We repeat this when we claim that God is on the side of one political party or another, or one country or another. That does not mean, however, that God’s kingdom is not of this world. The Kingdom of God is a space. It exists in every home where parents and children love each other. It exists in every region and country that cares for its weak and vulnerable. It exists in every organization and person that reaches out to the needy. The Kingdom of God is a time. It happens whenever someone feeds a hungry person, or shelters a homeless person, or shows care to a neglected person. It happens whenever we overturn an unjust law, or correct an injustice, or avert a war. It happens whenever people join in the struggle to overcome poverty, to erase ignorance, to pass on the faith. The Kingdom of God is in the past (in the life and work of Jesus of Nazareth); it is in the present (in the work of the Church and in the efforts of many others to create a world of goodness and justice); it is in the future (reaching its completion in the age to come). The Kingdom of God is a condition. Its symptoms are love, justice, and peace. That is what Jesus means when he says, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." AMEN
Tonight’s gospel reading is a section of the Sermon on the Mount, which is most likely a collection of the sayings of Jesus rather than a cohesive sermon as we would think of it. I would contend that the section that we are looking at tonight should be viewed as poetry rather than prose. There are several reasons for this: It doesn’t make sense that we should model our lives after the birds and the lillies. Taken literally, this would mean that we are to simply sit quietly and wait for God to provide for us. I can’t think of another example of Jesus warning people about the dangers of work or rewarding them for idleness. When Martha and Mary disagree about the importance of preparing the meal vs. spending time with Jesus, Martha is not criticized for doing the work, but for being distracted by all of the preparations that had to be made. Jesus doesn’t tell her not to work -- he says, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” In a sermon on this text, Martin Luther said, “God gives us the wool, that he grows on the sheep; but it is not at once cloth, we must labor and make it into cloth; when it is cloth, it does not at once become a coat, the tailor must first work with the cloth before it is a coat; and so God does with all things, he cares for us, but we must toil and work.”
Another reason that this should be viewed at poetry is that it is not true that all birds are adequately fed and kept safe and that all lilies bloom beautifully. “Droughts and other catastrophes cut short the lives of both birds and flowers as well as of humans who trust in God.” We know that, in spite of Jesus words, “ strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well, that bad things happen to good people.The birds and flowers are meant to be symbols of God’s providential care for His creation that open our minds to the goodness of God.
So what is the message of this poetic passage? The words, “do not worry” are repeated three times, giving us a pretty strong hint. Although it is believed that these words are directed to his disciples, worry is universal; it lives in the homes of the poor and the wealthy, the young and the old. Worry is a part of the lives of people of every race, in every region. Men and women worry, married folks and singles worry. Worry is part of distracted days and sleepless nights. Worry takes on the past and the future. Worry is pointless, as Jesus says. “And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” We have all seen the importance of attitude in our everyday lives. When we hold on to the past and second guess ourselves, we are unable to deal with the present or plan for the future… we are defeated before we have begun. Worry isn’t caused by external circumstances. In the same situation, one person can be calm and even happy while another is worried to death. Most importantly, worry is essentially distrust of God.
I have some issues with the thought that God never gives us more than we can handle. I know that things happen that drive people to the breaking point and beyond. I don’t believe that God gives us misfortune any more than I believe that God promises us prosperity. What I do believe is that God has promised to be with us always. The ultimate faith is that which leads us to believe that we are called to do our best in every situation and leave the rest to God. At global mission last week, Pastor Kendall talked about living with open hands, believing that we have enough instead of living with our fists clenched. This sentiment is expressed brilliantly in a poem by Wendell Berry, a farmer, author, and environmentalist.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.
AMEN
Another reason that this should be viewed at poetry is that it is not true that all birds are adequately fed and kept safe and that all lilies bloom beautifully. “Droughts and other catastrophes cut short the lives of both birds and flowers as well as of humans who trust in God.” We know that, in spite of Jesus words, “ strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well, that bad things happen to good people.The birds and flowers are meant to be symbols of God’s providential care for His creation that open our minds to the goodness of God.
So what is the message of this poetic passage? The words, “do not worry” are repeated three times, giving us a pretty strong hint. Although it is believed that these words are directed to his disciples, worry is universal; it lives in the homes of the poor and the wealthy, the young and the old. Worry is a part of the lives of people of every race, in every region. Men and women worry, married folks and singles worry. Worry is part of distracted days and sleepless nights. Worry takes on the past and the future. Worry is pointless, as Jesus says. “And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” We have all seen the importance of attitude in our everyday lives. When we hold on to the past and second guess ourselves, we are unable to deal with the present or plan for the future… we are defeated before we have begun. Worry isn’t caused by external circumstances. In the same situation, one person can be calm and even happy while another is worried to death. Most importantly, worry is essentially distrust of God.
I have some issues with the thought that God never gives us more than we can handle. I know that things happen that drive people to the breaking point and beyond. I don’t believe that God gives us misfortune any more than I believe that God promises us prosperity. What I do believe is that God has promised to be with us always. The ultimate faith is that which leads us to believe that we are called to do our best in every situation and leave the rest to God. At global mission last week, Pastor Kendall talked about living with open hands, believing that we have enough instead of living with our fists clenched. This sentiment is expressed brilliantly in a poem by Wendell Berry, a farmer, author, and environmentalist.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.
AMEN
Today’s gospel reading picks up where last week’s left off -- Jesus and the disciples (and possibly others) are leaving the temple after observing those with money and the poor widow giving their offerings. One of the disciples is impressed with the size of the temple and the rocks upon which it sits. That is not surprising: the plaza of the temple covered an area the size of 29 football fields, and the largest of the stones is estimated to weigh 570 tons. Some scholars say that Jesus’ reply about the destruction of the temple is meant to give us the idea that the collapse is due to the corruption of the temple as an institution full of scribes in long robes and people giving to the church while ignoring the needs of the widow. Whatever the case might be, Mark 13 is an unusual section of the gospels that is heavily influenced by Jewish tradition.
As I have mentioned several other times, the gospels are not verbatim accounts of the life of Jesus. Time passed between the events and the reporting of the events. During that time, the history was kept alive in the oral tradition. In addition, the writers of the gospels chose, as all writers do, which details to include and emphasize and which to leave out. It is interesting in this reading that Jesus and the disciples chose to retire to the Mount of Olives, opposite the temple. This would have placed them squarely in a 3,000-year-old Jewish cemetery where victims of the Jewish war with Rome and destruction of the temple would eventually be buried. In this setting, Jesus shares some imagery that would have been quite familiar to Jewish listeners -- imagery from the Day of the Lord.
In my Hebrew Bible classes at seminary, we were told that the answer to almost every question was “the Babylonian exile.” Much writing and editing of the Old Testament, especially the work of the prophets, was shaped by the period when the Jews were banished from their homeland and the difficulties that they had when they were allowed to return. The idea of the Day of the Lord was a combination of optimism -- that a great period of earthly turmoil would result in victory for God’s chosen people -- and pessimism -- that there was no earthly way that the people of Israel could ever regain power.
It is only logical that the disciples want to know when the day is coming and what the sign will be. Mark 13 is Jesus’ last chance to share his message with the disciples before the Last Supper. “While the essential, last word for disciples in John is a command to be united in love with Christ and with one another and in Matthew and Luke the final order is to be engaged in the mission to the Gentiles, the central thrust of Jesus’ last will and testament in Mark is to watch for the coming of the Son of man.” The purpose of the watching, the waiting, and the observing is to experience and be changed by something altogether different from what we have known… to be transformed by something beyond ourselves that we can neither understand nor manage.
Today’s reading ends with birth pangs. There’s a new world coming, and it’s already here! The Son of God has come into this world of death and sin and borne it on shoulders. Death has been defeated, the grave is robbed of its power. The powers of evil, mighty though they seem, a doomed to destruction. Sin is forgiven, nailed to a cross. A new community of love and peace is forming all over the world, and people filled with hope are humbly serving the world in the name of Jesus. AMEN
As I have mentioned several other times, the gospels are not verbatim accounts of the life of Jesus. Time passed between the events and the reporting of the events. During that time, the history was kept alive in the oral tradition. In addition, the writers of the gospels chose, as all writers do, which details to include and emphasize and which to leave out. It is interesting in this reading that Jesus and the disciples chose to retire to the Mount of Olives, opposite the temple. This would have placed them squarely in a 3,000-year-old Jewish cemetery where victims of the Jewish war with Rome and destruction of the temple would eventually be buried. In this setting, Jesus shares some imagery that would have been quite familiar to Jewish listeners -- imagery from the Day of the Lord.
In my Hebrew Bible classes at seminary, we were told that the answer to almost every question was “the Babylonian exile.” Much writing and editing of the Old Testament, especially the work of the prophets, was shaped by the period when the Jews were banished from their homeland and the difficulties that they had when they were allowed to return. The idea of the Day of the Lord was a combination of optimism -- that a great period of earthly turmoil would result in victory for God’s chosen people -- and pessimism -- that there was no earthly way that the people of Israel could ever regain power.
It is only logical that the disciples want to know when the day is coming and what the sign will be. Mark 13 is Jesus’ last chance to share his message with the disciples before the Last Supper. “While the essential, last word for disciples in John is a command to be united in love with Christ and with one another and in Matthew and Luke the final order is to be engaged in the mission to the Gentiles, the central thrust of Jesus’ last will and testament in Mark is to watch for the coming of the Son of man.” The purpose of the watching, the waiting, and the observing is to experience and be changed by something altogether different from what we have known… to be transformed by something beyond ourselves that we can neither understand nor manage.
Today’s reading ends with birth pangs. There’s a new world coming, and it’s already here! The Son of God has come into this world of death and sin and borne it on shoulders. Death has been defeated, the grave is robbed of its power. The powers of evil, mighty though they seem, a doomed to destruction. Sin is forgiven, nailed to a cross. A new community of love and peace is forming all over the world, and people filled with hope are humbly serving the world in the name of Jesus. AMEN
Between text study and reading through a number of commentaries on today’s gospel reading, I have become aware that there are many different ways of understanding it. Some of the differences are minor, while others change the whole meaning of the text. To show you what I mean, I am going to reach back to my teacher days, so you need to prepare to be tested on what you read. Let’s begin with verses 38-40:
And in his teaching he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to go about in long robes, and to have salutations in the marketplaces and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, who devour widows’ houses and for a pretense make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”
What is a scribe anyway? We can tell from the name that a scribe would have been someone who could read and write -- a rare talent in biblical times. The main things that needed to be written and read were laws and religious texts, which had considerable overlap. As you can imagine, the ability to control information made the scribes a very important class of people. According to our text, they didn’t do a very good job of handling their power responsibly -- at least if the commas are in the right places. The comma was standardized by Aldus Manutius and his grandson, Aldus the Younger in the early 1500s. There wouldn’t have been commas in the original document. What happens to our understanding of the first section of text if we take out the commas? Instead of worrying about all scribes, we now only need to worry about those who get carried away with their power.. It changes the scribes from a stereotype to a diverse group. We are also given the responsibility for discerning the trustworthy from those who should be feared. This might seem minor, but it also affects how we look at the other half of the reading.
And he sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the multitude putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. And a poor widow came, and put in two copper coins, which make a penny. And he called his disciples to him, and said to them, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For they all contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, her whole living.”
Changing our perspective on the scribes keeps us from turning this story into a simple comparison and contrast of two groups: one good and the other evil. This is one of those stories that we have heard enough times to have decided what it means. We know that Jesus disliked Pharisees, scribes, all classes of religious officials, and rich people. We remember Jesus saying that one cannot serve both God and mammon, that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, and that the love of money is the root of all evil. The widow has put in everything that she had, and Jesus said,“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” and “any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.” The message must be that Jesus wants us to give up everything, as the disciples did.
Before we get too carried away, let me ask you a couple of questions about what we read:
Try to think about this story without letting guilt get in the way. Is there anything wrong with the rich people giving generously to support the church? Does Jesus say that there is? Sure, they have given out of their abundance, but they seem to be the kind of faithful givers that the church needs. We have no idea what has motivated them to give, and it seems pretty clear that our motives matter to Jesus. The widow is praised for giving all that she has, but the amount is so small that it doesn’t help the church, and it really wouldn’t do her any good either; she is no more or less dependent on the kindness of others after her donation.
I may have just taken a straightforward piece of teaching and made it unnecessarily complicated, but I believe that it is important to really think through scripture. Is there hope to be found? Well, Jesus did say that ““He who is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and he who is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much.” AMEN
And in his teaching he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to go about in long robes, and to have salutations in the marketplaces and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, who devour widows’ houses and for a pretense make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”
What is a scribe anyway? We can tell from the name that a scribe would have been someone who could read and write -- a rare talent in biblical times. The main things that needed to be written and read were laws and religious texts, which had considerable overlap. As you can imagine, the ability to control information made the scribes a very important class of people. According to our text, they didn’t do a very good job of handling their power responsibly -- at least if the commas are in the right places. The comma was standardized by Aldus Manutius and his grandson, Aldus the Younger in the early 1500s. There wouldn’t have been commas in the original document. What happens to our understanding of the first section of text if we take out the commas? Instead of worrying about all scribes, we now only need to worry about those who get carried away with their power.. It changes the scribes from a stereotype to a diverse group. We are also given the responsibility for discerning the trustworthy from those who should be feared. This might seem minor, but it also affects how we look at the other half of the reading.
And he sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the multitude putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. And a poor widow came, and put in two copper coins, which make a penny. And he called his disciples to him, and said to them, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For they all contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, her whole living.”
Changing our perspective on the scribes keeps us from turning this story into a simple comparison and contrast of two groups: one good and the other evil. This is one of those stories that we have heard enough times to have decided what it means. We know that Jesus disliked Pharisees, scribes, all classes of religious officials, and rich people. We remember Jesus saying that one cannot serve both God and mammon, that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, and that the love of money is the root of all evil. The widow has put in everything that she had, and Jesus said,“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” and “any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.” The message must be that Jesus wants us to give up everything, as the disciples did.
Before we get too carried away, let me ask you a couple of questions about what we read:
- How do the rich people behave when they give their offering?
- How does the widow behave as she gives her offering?
Try to think about this story without letting guilt get in the way. Is there anything wrong with the rich people giving generously to support the church? Does Jesus say that there is? Sure, they have given out of their abundance, but they seem to be the kind of faithful givers that the church needs. We have no idea what has motivated them to give, and it seems pretty clear that our motives matter to Jesus. The widow is praised for giving all that she has, but the amount is so small that it doesn’t help the church, and it really wouldn’t do her any good either; she is no more or less dependent on the kindness of others after her donation.
I may have just taken a straightforward piece of teaching and made it unnecessarily complicated, but I believe that it is important to really think through scripture. Is there hope to be found? Well, Jesus did say that ““He who is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and he who is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much.” AMEN
According to Nadia Volz-Weber, What we celebrate when we celebrate All Saints is not the superhuman faith and power of a select few but is God’s ability to use flawed people to do divine things. We celebrate all on whom God has acted in baptism, sealing them, as Ephesians says, with the mark of the promised Holy Spirit. We celebrate the fact that God creates faith in God’s people, and those people through ordinary acts of love, bring the Kingdom of Heaven closer to Earth. We celebrate that we have, in all who’ve gone before us, what St Paul calls such a great cloud of witnesses and that the faithful departed are as much the body of Christ as we are.
The story of Lazarus begins with Jesus finding out that Lazarus is ill, and that Mary and Martha want him to come. But when Jesus heard it he said, “This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it.” Here, Jesus makes John’s point that what is about to occur is meant as a sign. Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Laz′arus, so when he heard that he was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. This sentence makes no sense on the surface. Shouldn’t the “so” be a “but?”
Jesus tells the disciples that Lazarus is sick, and they are relieved, assuming that he will recover on his own.Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” For a second time, Jesus points out that the death of Lazarus is a sign. Jesus delays his trip to Bethany until Lazarus has been dead for four days. Martha rushes out to meet Jesus, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. And even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Like us, Martha is confused about the meaning of life in Jesus. She fails to understand that eternal life in Christ began at creation, exists in the present, and is without end. Jesus explains, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, he who is coming into the world.”
It is now Mary’s turn to speak to Jesus. She too says,“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled; and he said, “Where have you laid him?” Next come arguably the two most powerful lines in the story: They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” This echoes the calling of Philip and Nathanael, the simple words that God wants us to hear today, followed by the shortest verse in the Bible, Jesus wept. As Paul says in Hebrews, “we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses.”
Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha said to him, “Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?” This is a sign, not a test of the faith of Mary or the witnesses.
So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, “Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me. I knew that thou hearest me always, but I have said this on account of the people standing by, that they may believe that thou didst send me.” For the third time, Jesus points out that what he is doing is meant to be viewed as a sign. When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out.” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with bandages, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” The resurrection of Lazarus shows us where God is freeing us from death--not so that we can go to heaven, but so that we can serve and be living witnesses to the life-giving power of God
AMEN
Today’s text offer an embarrassment of riches: The reading from Jeremiah describes for the Israelites in exile God’s new covenant -- “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, "Know the Lord," for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” In addition to some beautiful images, the Psalm reminds us to “Be still, and know that I am God.” In the reading from Romans, Paul tells us that “ there is no distinction, 23 since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; 24 they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Finally, in John’s gospel, Jesus says, "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; 32 and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free."
On this Reformation Sunday, I imagine Martin Luther poring over his Bible, wondering why, in spite of his best efforts, he cannot seem to view himself as having a right relationship with God -- feeling that there is something just beyond his grasp that will answer all of his questions. Perhaps he, like I, struggled to see the fulfillment of God’s covenant recorded in Jeremiah. In spite of his monastic lifestyle, Luther still struggled with sin, in spite of God’s promise to “forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” I wonder if Luther found comfort in the words, “Be still, and know that I am God,” recognizing it as a reminder that our relationship with God doesn’t come from our understanding of God, but from God’s understanding of us. I know that Luther’s “aha” moment came while he was reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans.
The word that we use to describe our relationship with God through Christ is “justification,” which means the action of showing something to be right or reasonable, or an acceptable reason for doing something. Something that is “just” is based on or behaves according to what is morally right and fair, and “justice” is the process or result of using laws to fairly judge and punish crimes and criminals. If we say that we have a “just” God, that should mean that we get what we deserve. Of course, the problem is that, as Paul points out, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Luther resolves the issue with, “Simil justus et paccator -- we are simultaneously saints and sinners: believers are hardly free of sin; rather, they are recovering sinners, pilgrims in exodus, exiles on their way home. The journey begins with the truth-telling, with an honest assessment of the way things are, with that difficult escape from denial, with the grace that allows individuals to see themselves as lovable, forgiven, and beloved of God.”
Jesus words in John, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free,” are particularly striking as we find ourselves in the buildup to an election. It seems that both political parties, maybe even each candidate, are working to convince the world that they are the keepers of the truth so that we view our votes as a clear choice between right and wrong. “It is interesting that Jesus does not present himself as a self-evident truth. That is, he does not expect his hearers to grasp the fullness of his claim all at once or to assess its validity through logic or research. They will come to know him as "the truth" if they live with him and remain connected to him and his word. Experience, not deduction, is the key.”
We are freed not by our faith in Jesus, but"through Jesus Christ's faith," or "through the faith of Jesus Christ." By following Jesus, by abiding in Him, we are set free FROM sin, but what are we freed FOR? Abiding in Christ is active, we are to grow in our faith as we live in Christ. Progressing in our faith is far beyond professing our faith. Today at Baxter we have a baptism, where the parents will promise to help their child: “To live among God’s faithful people, to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people, following the example of Jesus, and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth.” This is the same promise that we made at our confirmations. “Yours and my faith is not something that we decided one day to choose on our own. It is not something we have done. Rather, it was something done to us. It was Christ who had the faith that saves us, a faith in God that took him all the way to the cross; and because he is risen, he can give that faith to us!” AMEN
On this Reformation Sunday, I imagine Martin Luther poring over his Bible, wondering why, in spite of his best efforts, he cannot seem to view himself as having a right relationship with God -- feeling that there is something just beyond his grasp that will answer all of his questions. Perhaps he, like I, struggled to see the fulfillment of God’s covenant recorded in Jeremiah. In spite of his monastic lifestyle, Luther still struggled with sin, in spite of God’s promise to “forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” I wonder if Luther found comfort in the words, “Be still, and know that I am God,” recognizing it as a reminder that our relationship with God doesn’t come from our understanding of God, but from God’s understanding of us. I know that Luther’s “aha” moment came while he was reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans.
The word that we use to describe our relationship with God through Christ is “justification,” which means the action of showing something to be right or reasonable, or an acceptable reason for doing something. Something that is “just” is based on or behaves according to what is morally right and fair, and “justice” is the process or result of using laws to fairly judge and punish crimes and criminals. If we say that we have a “just” God, that should mean that we get what we deserve. Of course, the problem is that, as Paul points out, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Luther resolves the issue with, “Simil justus et paccator -- we are simultaneously saints and sinners: believers are hardly free of sin; rather, they are recovering sinners, pilgrims in exodus, exiles on their way home. The journey begins with the truth-telling, with an honest assessment of the way things are, with that difficult escape from denial, with the grace that allows individuals to see themselves as lovable, forgiven, and beloved of God.”
Jesus words in John, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free,” are particularly striking as we find ourselves in the buildup to an election. It seems that both political parties, maybe even each candidate, are working to convince the world that they are the keepers of the truth so that we view our votes as a clear choice between right and wrong. “It is interesting that Jesus does not present himself as a self-evident truth. That is, he does not expect his hearers to grasp the fullness of his claim all at once or to assess its validity through logic or research. They will come to know him as "the truth" if they live with him and remain connected to him and his word. Experience, not deduction, is the key.”
We are freed not by our faith in Jesus, but"through Jesus Christ's faith," or "through the faith of Jesus Christ." By following Jesus, by abiding in Him, we are set free FROM sin, but what are we freed FOR? Abiding in Christ is active, we are to grow in our faith as we live in Christ. Progressing in our faith is far beyond professing our faith. Today at Baxter we have a baptism, where the parents will promise to help their child: “To live among God’s faithful people, to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people, following the example of Jesus, and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth.” This is the same promise that we made at our confirmations. “Yours and my faith is not something that we decided one day to choose on our own. It is not something we have done. Rather, it was something done to us. It was Christ who had the faith that saves us, a faith in God that took him all the way to the cross; and because he is risen, he can give that faith to us!” AMEN
As our gospel reading opens, Jesus is on the road again. The first line isn’t as clear as it might be: “They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid.” While I’m not sure who was there other than the Twelve, it doesn’t take long for Mark to remind us why those who followed were amazed and afraid. For the third time, and with great detail, Jesus explains what awaits him once they reach Jerusalem; he will be condemned, mocked, spit upon, flogged, and killed. For some reason, James and John feel like this is the appropriate time to say, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” At first reading, it seems unbelievable that the disciples are so thick-headed and childish that they would make such a statement. They are clearly not listening, right? Personally, I find it hard to stay on that particular high horse for very long; many of my prayers could be paraphrased, “God, I want you to do for me whatever I ask of you.” Sure, I frequently remember to thank God for all of the blessings in my life: my health, my family, the fact that I am allowed to do His work in this place surrounded by such wonderful people… , but I have noticed that I seldom bother to go very deep with my thanks. My prayers mostly ask for things to continue as they are until they get even better.
Jesus replies, “What is it you want me to do for you?” At first, this seems like it might be a trap for the disciples, and they certainly don’t do themselves any favors when they respond, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory." They respond to Jesus like a child might respond to Santa Claus. Jesus doesn’t ask if they have been naughty or nice, but he does ask, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” When James and John quickly say that they are, it seems like the other shoe is bound to drop.How can they claim to be ready when they clearly don’t understand the question? The image of drinking from the cup comes from the Mediterranean tradition where the head of the family fills the cups of all at table. Each one is expected to accept and drink what the head of the family has given. Drinking from the cup would represent accepting the lot in life which has been assigned to each person. Of course, Jesus’ lot in life is to be crucified, die, and be resurrected. The brothers have a different role to play, but Jesus assures them that they will be bound to Him through suffering and death.
This brings us to the part of the lesson where it is easy for me to get fuzzy: “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many." It is easy to talk about the virtues of service, but it is difficult to let go of the desire to “look out for number one.” Besides, if Jesus already gave his life as a ransom for mine, what responsibility do I have? Jesus asks, “What is it you want me to do for you?” I might be able to avoid answering Jesus as though he is Santa, but I may be tempted to view Him instead as the Wizard of Oz, ready to tell me that everything I desire has been inside of me all along. This would have been a great place for Mark to have included Jesus teaching the disciples The Lord’s Prayer. The basis of all of our prayers should be: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” AMEN
Jesus replies, “What is it you want me to do for you?” At first, this seems like it might be a trap for the disciples, and they certainly don’t do themselves any favors when they respond, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory." They respond to Jesus like a child might respond to Santa Claus. Jesus doesn’t ask if they have been naughty or nice, but he does ask, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” When James and John quickly say that they are, it seems like the other shoe is bound to drop.How can they claim to be ready when they clearly don’t understand the question? The image of drinking from the cup comes from the Mediterranean tradition where the head of the family fills the cups of all at table. Each one is expected to accept and drink what the head of the family has given. Drinking from the cup would represent accepting the lot in life which has been assigned to each person. Of course, Jesus’ lot in life is to be crucified, die, and be resurrected. The brothers have a different role to play, but Jesus assures them that they will be bound to Him through suffering and death.
This brings us to the part of the lesson where it is easy for me to get fuzzy: “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many." It is easy to talk about the virtues of service, but it is difficult to let go of the desire to “look out for number one.” Besides, if Jesus already gave his life as a ransom for mine, what responsibility do I have? Jesus asks, “What is it you want me to do for you?” I might be able to avoid answering Jesus as though he is Santa, but I may be tempted to view Him instead as the Wizard of Oz, ready to tell me that everything I desire has been inside of me all along. This would have been a great place for Mark to have included Jesus teaching the disciples The Lord’s Prayer. The basis of all of our prayers should be: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” AMEN
At the beginning of today’s gospel reading, Jesus is “setting out on a journey” when he is interrupted. If you think about it, Jesus’ entire ministry, from his baptism to his crucifixion, can be viewed as a series of interruptions. He attends a wedding, they run out of wine, and he has to fix the problem. He enters a temple, and a man possessed by an evil spirit confronts him. Wherever he goes, there is always someone who needs something from him. When he is able to get away from the crowds, he needs to explain things to the disciples. It is no wonder that it is noteworthy when he is able to take time for himself in order to pray.
This particular interruption occurs when a rich man runs up, drops to his knees and asks Jesus what he has to do to INHERIT ETERNAL LIFE. We are given a hint about the meaning of the story when the man uses the word “inherit” because there is really very little that one can do in order to inherit. In Jesus’ time, inheritance was the birthright of the firstborn son. The man has addressed Jesus as “good teacher,” and Jesus asks why he calls him good when only God is good. This seems odd at first, but it is likely Jesus’ way of taking the man’s focus from goodness to godliness.
Jesus mentions 6 of the commandments (almost all “shalt not” commandments). It is tempting to think that Jesus is setting a legalistic trap for the man like the Pharisees are continually doing to Jesus, but I believe that Jesus viewed following the commandments as an important step in faith development. When the man says that he has followed the commandments, Jesus doesn’t pounce, as we might expect. After all, we are sure that none of us are able to follow the commandments. It is interesting that The commandments that Jesus asks about are almost the “shalt not” commandments. How often do we congratulate ourselves for resisting temptation instead of admitting to the things that we have done wrong?
At this point, Jesus looks at him and loves him. I’m sure that the man is proud of himself and prepared to be commended. Instead, Jesus tells him, go, sell, give, come, and follow. This isn’t what the man wants to hear, and it isn’t what we want to hear either. Even if we don’t see this story as condemning riches, we are clearly being asked to follow the law by selling and giving instead of resting on the idea that faith alone will get us to Heaven. In addition, our faith is tied to coming and following… There is work to be done. The man leaves.
Jesus talks about how hard it is for the rich to enter the KINGDOM OF GOD. This is different than the question about eternal life. With the way that the world seems to be working, it is tempting to view the world as belonging mostly to Satan and Heaven as belonging to God. The Kingdom of God isn’t just Heaven -- we live in the Kingdom of God whether we choose to participate in it or not.
Like us, the disciples are surprised and wonder how anyone can get in. After all, aren’t riches the sign of being blessed? Jesus tells them that it is impossible for humans, but everything is possible for God. Even though God demands our all, God also loves us and waits for us to understand.
Peter (the talkative disciple) starts to say that they have already given up everything to follow Jesus. Jesus says that everyone who has given up home or family or land for him will get 100X more of all that they have given up plus persecution plus eternal life. I wonder what that means to us. In the first place, I cannot imagine giving up my family to follow God. My family is how I define myself (father, husband, grandfather…) I understand this to mean not that we abandon our homes or families, but that we accept that all that we have is a gift from God, freeing us to participate in the larger community of faith.
Jesus ends with a well-known saying: “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first." This is comforting to those who are last, but frightening to those who are first. The crux of this story is the understanding that we have to let go of our sense of self in order to live fully in the Kingdom of God. AMEN
When I taught at the middle school, the students carried a little book that they were supposed to keep track of their assignments in. If they needed a pass, they needed to write their destination in the book and bring it to the teacher, who would write the time and initial it. There was a group of 8th-grade boys who noticed that their study-hall teacher never read their passes before initialling them, so they decided to schedule a picnic in the commons area. Each of them brought some snacks and drinks, they filled out their pass books so that they read “picnic in the commons,” and they had the teacher initial them. When the principal walked through the commons and asked them what in the world they thought that they were doing, they calmly presented their signed pass books. The principal was beside himself. These boys were clearly violating school rules, but they were doing so with permission from a teacher. If he punished them, he would have to explain to their parents why they were given a pass in the first place if the activity was against the rules. In the end, they got a stern talking-to that they did their best not to laugh through.
The Pharisees who approach Jesus at the beginning of today’s gospel reading are a lot like those 8th-grade boys in that they are looking for a loophole that allows them to do what they want. The question about divorce is not a real question, but a trap that they hoped would put Jesus in the same position in which John the Baptist found himself when he criticized Herod for marrying the divorced Herodias. If we are not careful, we can fall into such a trap ourselves. As I thought about this sermon, I received a daily devotion that I found very helpful:
None of us loves perfectly. The gospel is not for the perfect and it is hardest on those who think they are. It is vital to notice that these potent words are not directed at people suffering a broken marriage. They are directed at arrogance ready to turn the law on others. None of us is above this vindictive temptation. Luther--drawing on St. Paul and St. Augustine--taught us to stand truthfully and humbly together, united in brokenness and lifted in mercy. Today's reading does not justify torpedoes directed against divorcees. Its words disarm any who may have forgotten their own imperfections. They help us stand together in vulnerability--as all who love are vulnerable. When Jesus blesses the children, there are no perfect children. There are only beloved and forgiven children.
In the reading from Genesis, God creates man and woman so that they can “become one flesh.” We don’t have to read much further to find out how long Adam and Eve are able to live into the paradise for which they were created. Right from the start, we have been unable to live the lives that God wants us to live. As much as we want for ourselves, God wants even more for us. Unfortunately, as Paul says in Romans 3:23, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
“Like the other wounds suffered by creatures throughout the creation, the tearing apart of those who have bound themselves to each other in marriage is not God’s intention. Neither does God intend the symptoms of brokenness that precede divorce: thoughtlessness, selfishness, deception, violence, and so on. Every week, we join together in worship, confessing these and other manifestations of sin and receiving the news that the God who forgives sin is making us new as well.” AMEN
The Pharisees who approach Jesus at the beginning of today’s gospel reading are a lot like those 8th-grade boys in that they are looking for a loophole that allows them to do what they want. The question about divorce is not a real question, but a trap that they hoped would put Jesus in the same position in which John the Baptist found himself when he criticized Herod for marrying the divorced Herodias. If we are not careful, we can fall into such a trap ourselves. As I thought about this sermon, I received a daily devotion that I found very helpful:
None of us loves perfectly. The gospel is not for the perfect and it is hardest on those who think they are. It is vital to notice that these potent words are not directed at people suffering a broken marriage. They are directed at arrogance ready to turn the law on others. None of us is above this vindictive temptation. Luther--drawing on St. Paul and St. Augustine--taught us to stand truthfully and humbly together, united in brokenness and lifted in mercy. Today's reading does not justify torpedoes directed against divorcees. Its words disarm any who may have forgotten their own imperfections. They help us stand together in vulnerability--as all who love are vulnerable. When Jesus blesses the children, there are no perfect children. There are only beloved and forgiven children.
In the reading from Genesis, God creates man and woman so that they can “become one flesh.” We don’t have to read much further to find out how long Adam and Eve are able to live into the paradise for which they were created. Right from the start, we have been unable to live the lives that God wants us to live. As much as we want for ourselves, God wants even more for us. Unfortunately, as Paul says in Romans 3:23, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
“Like the other wounds suffered by creatures throughout the creation, the tearing apart of those who have bound themselves to each other in marriage is not God’s intention. Neither does God intend the symptoms of brokenness that precede divorce: thoughtlessness, selfishness, deception, violence, and so on. Every week, we join together in worship, confessing these and other manifestations of sin and receiving the news that the God who forgives sin is making us new as well.” AMEN
Our gospel reading begins by placing Jesus and the disciples at Caesarea Philippi -- a place otherwise known as “the gates of hell” -- a place where no self-respecting Jew would visit. The main feature of Caesarea Philippi was a giant cliff with a cave at the base from which water flowed. This cave, which was too deep to measure, was thought to be a passageway by which various fertility gods travelled back and forth from earth to the underworld. As such, the city hosted multiple festivals designed to call forth various pagan gods from the underworld; it was a city of people eagerly knocking on the gates of Hell. In this setting, Jesus asks the disciples two questions: Who do people say that I am? and Who do you say that I am?
If the point of Jesus’ ministry to this point was to teach the disciples, the answers were not encouraging. The answer to the first question shows that people simply aren’t catching on to Jesus’ message and that they see him as a prophet rather than a savior. Things seem to look up when Peter answers the second question correctly, but it soon becomes apparent that he has no idea what it means that Jesus is the Messiah. It is no wonder that Jesus continues to tell people not to talk about what he has done!
Before we look at the remainder of the Gospel, let’s take a moment to think about the questions that were asked of the disciples and to imagine that they are being asked of us. Who do people say that Jesus is? I did some intense research on the subject, and found the following: According to gotquestions.org, “Unlike the question “Does God exist?” very few people question whether Jesus Christ existed. It is generally accepted that Jesus was truly a man who walked on the earth in Israel 2000 years ago. The debate begins when the subject of Jesus' full identity is discussed. Almost every major religion teaches that Jesus was a prophet or a good teacher or a godly man. The problem is that the Bible tells us that Jesus was infinitely more than a prophet, a good teacher, or a godly man.” This answer really hasn’t changed very much since Jesus asked the question himself. As for the second question, the answer probably reveals more about us than it does about Jesus. How would you describe Jesus to someone who had never heard of him? I know for sure that I wouldn’t attempt to explain the Trinity. Beyond that, I suppose that I would say that he was the Son of God and that he died on the cross, taking our sins upon himself so that we could be saved. Even as a say this, I can see that there would be follow-up questions and that my explanation of Jesus would be incomplete and messy.
Jesus goes on to tell not only the disciples, but also the crowd that has either followed him or gathered, “"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” This is what many interpreters refer to as the “hinge” of Mark’s gospel. From now on, Jesus is firmly fixed on his destination -- Jerusalem and the cross. Although the disciples and the crowds may have been excited by the possibility that Jesus had come to lead them to earthly victory, everything changes here. We can’t blame the disciples for wanting success and approval; we feel the same way.
Accepting our cross and giving up our lives means that, at some point, we have to make peace with the unalterable fact that frustration, disappointment, pain, misfortune, illness, unfairness, sadness, and death are a part of our lives and they must ultimately be accepted without bitterness. According to Richard Rohr, “we all reach a time of “necessary suffering” that causes us to realize that the life that we have made for ourselves is insufficient and shallow. This pushes us to decide between struggling to save the life that we have created for ourselves or to embrace the loss, take up the cross, let go of what is gone, and open our hands to receive the self God intended us to be from the beginning.” Paul explains it in Romans when he says, “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
I wonder if I have left the realm of practicality and begun to talk about a way of life that I’m not sure is even possible. In a way, I hope so. I know that it is not possible for humans to end poverty, abuse, and intolerance in the world, but I believe that our faith needs to outdistance our capacity if we are to be who we were created to be. In the end, it is not our task to end the sin and suffering of the world or to stop the mindless march of violence. It is, rather, to follow a different way: to take opportunities, small as they may be, to reduce hatred and carnage, to let go fears, and to entrust even our poor inadequacy to the hands of God. This is the taking up of our daily cross. AMEN
If the point of Jesus’ ministry to this point was to teach the disciples, the answers were not encouraging. The answer to the first question shows that people simply aren’t catching on to Jesus’ message and that they see him as a prophet rather than a savior. Things seem to look up when Peter answers the second question correctly, but it soon becomes apparent that he has no idea what it means that Jesus is the Messiah. It is no wonder that Jesus continues to tell people not to talk about what he has done!
Before we look at the remainder of the Gospel, let’s take a moment to think about the questions that were asked of the disciples and to imagine that they are being asked of us. Who do people say that Jesus is? I did some intense research on the subject, and found the following: According to gotquestions.org, “Unlike the question “Does God exist?” very few people question whether Jesus Christ existed. It is generally accepted that Jesus was truly a man who walked on the earth in Israel 2000 years ago. The debate begins when the subject of Jesus' full identity is discussed. Almost every major religion teaches that Jesus was a prophet or a good teacher or a godly man. The problem is that the Bible tells us that Jesus was infinitely more than a prophet, a good teacher, or a godly man.” This answer really hasn’t changed very much since Jesus asked the question himself. As for the second question, the answer probably reveals more about us than it does about Jesus. How would you describe Jesus to someone who had never heard of him? I know for sure that I wouldn’t attempt to explain the Trinity. Beyond that, I suppose that I would say that he was the Son of God and that he died on the cross, taking our sins upon himself so that we could be saved. Even as a say this, I can see that there would be follow-up questions and that my explanation of Jesus would be incomplete and messy.
Jesus goes on to tell not only the disciples, but also the crowd that has either followed him or gathered, “"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” This is what many interpreters refer to as the “hinge” of Mark’s gospel. From now on, Jesus is firmly fixed on his destination -- Jerusalem and the cross. Although the disciples and the crowds may have been excited by the possibility that Jesus had come to lead them to earthly victory, everything changes here. We can’t blame the disciples for wanting success and approval; we feel the same way.
Accepting our cross and giving up our lives means that, at some point, we have to make peace with the unalterable fact that frustration, disappointment, pain, misfortune, illness, unfairness, sadness, and death are a part of our lives and they must ultimately be accepted without bitterness. According to Richard Rohr, “we all reach a time of “necessary suffering” that causes us to realize that the life that we have made for ourselves is insufficient and shallow. This pushes us to decide between struggling to save the life that we have created for ourselves or to embrace the loss, take up the cross, let go of what is gone, and open our hands to receive the self God intended us to be from the beginning.” Paul explains it in Romans when he says, “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
I wonder if I have left the realm of practicality and begun to talk about a way of life that I’m not sure is even possible. In a way, I hope so. I know that it is not possible for humans to end poverty, abuse, and intolerance in the world, but I believe that our faith needs to outdistance our capacity if we are to be who we were created to be. In the end, it is not our task to end the sin and suffering of the world or to stop the mindless march of violence. It is, rather, to follow a different way: to take opportunities, small as they may be, to reduce hatred and carnage, to let go fears, and to entrust even our poor inadequacy to the hands of God. This is the taking up of our daily cross. AMEN
At the beginning of today’s gospel reading, it seems that Jesus is trying to hide by leaving the area around the sea of Galilee for the coastal city of Tyre. He may have thought that by leaving Israel he could get away from the crowds that had been following him wherever he went. Even in a region populated mostly by Gentiles, Jesus could not escape notice. It seems that a desperate woman followed him into the house where he was hiding. The result was a vivid display of the true humanity of Jesus. Instead of being all warm and fuzzy as we would expect, Jesus calls the woman a dog -- unworthy of his help, at least at this time. There are many interpreters who try to explain away Jesus’ harsh words to the woman as a test or even sarcasm, but I don’t buy it. Instead, I believe that Jesus is tired and just wants some uninterrupted peace and quiet, so he snaps when yet another person, especially a woman and a gentile, asks for his help. After all, if we don’t believe that Jesus was subject to the same kinds of stresses and pitfalls that we face, do we really believe that he was human? It wouldn’t take any strength at all to lead a sinless life if one couldn’t be tempted.
Fortunately for us and for Jesus, the woman is too quick-witted and determined to be pushed aside. She and her daughter might be dogs, but even dogs are allowed to feed on the crumbs that fall to the floor. Her belief in Jesus meant that she would not take no for an answer because she knew, deep down, that he could not turn her away. Her words show us how to respond to God’s promises in prayer. God has promised to hear and respond to the one praying, despite his or her unworthiness. Humans respond when they pray regularly, honestly, and frequently. In its rawest and most basic form, faith is the stubbornness that refuses to accept a “no” from God. The key to making this work seems to be looking at prayer as dialogue. There is no guarantee that God will give us what we ask for -- only that God is listening. Through persistent prayer, we can become more aware of the presence of God and of the various ways in which our prayers are being answered.
So we learn about prayer from the woman, and we are reminded that
Jesus was truly and completely human. What else can we learn from today’s readings? Personally, I am hung up on the interaction between Jesus and the woman in light of James’s words about favoritism: especially, “You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors.”
These words remind me of Nina, a woman who I met this weekend in the cities. Tami and I, my daughter and son-in-law had just arrived at the hotel when Nina locked in on us from across the parking lot. Although it was mid-afternoon, she was wearing pajama pants, and her hair was a mess. As she approached, my son-in-law locked my granddaughter in the truck. I was holding two small dogs. Nina plopped down on the curb, took a dog under each arm, and declared them “delicious.” By the time that we got our things loaded on the cart, Nina knew all of our names (including the dogs), where we were from, and that my son-in-law is a fireman. Every time that we took the dogs out, took the elevator, or went to the lobby, Nina was there. My kids found her creepy and irritating, so they avoided her, and I don’t blame them. I wondered what my response should be as someone who stands up here and talks in generalities about being a Christian every week. Nina seemed to be either mentally ill or on some kind of drugs. I imagine that she was living at the hotel on some kind of vouchers from the government. She was also fighting to get her father, a Korean war vet, out of the place where he was staying. She said that he was dying and that they weren’t caring for him properly. We overheard both sides of phone conversations with a person from that facility. Nina didn’t have a car or money for a cab, and there was no bus that would get her nearer than a mile from her father. I briefly considered offering her a ride, but I don’t think that it was a real thought. Instead, I built myself up for being so patient with her. I listened to her and let her pet the dogs whenever I saw her, but I wasn’t really listening. When I read James’s words, “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? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead,” it seems to me that those words are addressed directly to me. I am learning that practicing faith is a much different thing than claiming faith. AMEN
Fortunately for us and for Jesus, the woman is too quick-witted and determined to be pushed aside. She and her daughter might be dogs, but even dogs are allowed to feed on the crumbs that fall to the floor. Her belief in Jesus meant that she would not take no for an answer because she knew, deep down, that he could not turn her away. Her words show us how to respond to God’s promises in prayer. God has promised to hear and respond to the one praying, despite his or her unworthiness. Humans respond when they pray regularly, honestly, and frequently. In its rawest and most basic form, faith is the stubbornness that refuses to accept a “no” from God. The key to making this work seems to be looking at prayer as dialogue. There is no guarantee that God will give us what we ask for -- only that God is listening. Through persistent prayer, we can become more aware of the presence of God and of the various ways in which our prayers are being answered.
So we learn about prayer from the woman, and we are reminded that
Jesus was truly and completely human. What else can we learn from today’s readings? Personally, I am hung up on the interaction between Jesus and the woman in light of James’s words about favoritism: especially, “You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors.”
These words remind me of Nina, a woman who I met this weekend in the cities. Tami and I, my daughter and son-in-law had just arrived at the hotel when Nina locked in on us from across the parking lot. Although it was mid-afternoon, she was wearing pajama pants, and her hair was a mess. As she approached, my son-in-law locked my granddaughter in the truck. I was holding two small dogs. Nina plopped down on the curb, took a dog under each arm, and declared them “delicious.” By the time that we got our things loaded on the cart, Nina knew all of our names (including the dogs), where we were from, and that my son-in-law is a fireman. Every time that we took the dogs out, took the elevator, or went to the lobby, Nina was there. My kids found her creepy and irritating, so they avoided her, and I don’t blame them. I wondered what my response should be as someone who stands up here and talks in generalities about being a Christian every week. Nina seemed to be either mentally ill or on some kind of drugs. I imagine that she was living at the hotel on some kind of vouchers from the government. She was also fighting to get her father, a Korean war vet, out of the place where he was staying. She said that he was dying and that they weren’t caring for him properly. We overheard both sides of phone conversations with a person from that facility. Nina didn’t have a car or money for a cab, and there was no bus that would get her nearer than a mile from her father. I briefly considered offering her a ride, but I don’t think that it was a real thought. Instead, I built myself up for being so patient with her. I listened to her and let her pet the dogs whenever I saw her, but I wasn’t really listening. When I read James’s words, “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? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead,” it seems to me that those words are addressed directly to me. I am learning that practicing faith is a much different thing than claiming faith. AMEN
Today’s gospel revolves around a dispute between Jesus and the Pharisees over ritual hand washing. It seems that the Pharisees are picking a fight with Jesus. Maybe they are trying to make him look bad, or maybe they are afraid that the casual attitude of Jesus and his disciple toward the law will undermine respect for God’s law. Looking at the first lesson, it is easy to see why they see the law as so important: … “keep the commandments of the Lord your God with which I am charging you. You must observe them diligently, for this will show your wisdom and discernment to the peoples, who, when they hear all these statutes, will say, "Surely this great nation is a wise and discerning people!" These are the words of Moses, the most important man in the history of their faith. The Pharisees observance of the law is meant to be a witness to others -- to give glory to God. Jesus responds by calling the Pharisees hypocrites, which means “actors.” Their righteousness is merely play acting. Keep in mind that the Pharisees are doing their best to follow the only scripture that they have, and that the stakes are extremely high, as shown by this week’s Psalm, Psalm 15: 1 O Lord, who may abide in your tent? Who may dwell on your holy hill? 2 Those who walk blamelessly, and do what is right, and speak the truth from their heart; 3 who do not slander with their tongue, and do no evil to their friends, nor take up a reproach against their neighbors; 4 in whose eyes the wicked are despised, but who honor those who fear the Lord; who stand by their oath even to their hurt; 5 who do not lend money at interest, and do not take a bribe against the innocent. Those who do these things shall never be moved.
Who do you know who fits all of these criteria all of the time? I believe that the answer is nobody. When Jesus says, “there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile,” he is trying to explain that there is nothing that we can do to “dwell on the Lord’s holy hill” because of the condition of the human heart: “Out of your heart come evil thoughts, vulgar deeds, stealing, murder, unfaithfulness in marriage, greed, meanness, deceit, indecency, envy, insults, pride, and foolishness. All of these come from your heart, and they are what make you unfit to worship God.”
Where does that leave us? Thankfully, the text from James helps us fill in the blanks. First of all, we are told that every gift that is received in this world comes from an unchanging God. We are then given some sound advice: “let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God's righteousness.” I find the part about the mirror the most helpful. I don’t know about you, but we don’t have a lot of mirrors in our house, and I spend as little time as possible looking in the mirror. When I do look in the mirror, I might notice that I need a haircut, that I nicked myself shaving, that I have some crazy, out of control eyebrows coming in, or that I should probably learn to use an iron. It is much easier to ignore these problems when I walk away from the mirror. According to James, looking in the mirror is like comparing yourself to God’s laws. If you are honest, you will become aware of the many areas in which you fall short.
There is only one solution -- Jesus. If we look in the mirror and see someone who has been blessed by God's gifts, someone who has been brought to new life through God's word--a person who is a first fruit, set aside as someone who belongs to God, we will no longer be fighting to obtain the impossible. James says that, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” Freed from the need to prove ourselves to God, we can serve our neighbors. Understanding that the potential for sin will never leave us, we can let the blood of the Lamb wash us clean. AMEN
Who do you know who fits all of these criteria all of the time? I believe that the answer is nobody. When Jesus says, “there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile,” he is trying to explain that there is nothing that we can do to “dwell on the Lord’s holy hill” because of the condition of the human heart: “Out of your heart come evil thoughts, vulgar deeds, stealing, murder, unfaithfulness in marriage, greed, meanness, deceit, indecency, envy, insults, pride, and foolishness. All of these come from your heart, and they are what make you unfit to worship God.”
Where does that leave us? Thankfully, the text from James helps us fill in the blanks. First of all, we are told that every gift that is received in this world comes from an unchanging God. We are then given some sound advice: “let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God's righteousness.” I find the part about the mirror the most helpful. I don’t know about you, but we don’t have a lot of mirrors in our house, and I spend as little time as possible looking in the mirror. When I do look in the mirror, I might notice that I need a haircut, that I nicked myself shaving, that I have some crazy, out of control eyebrows coming in, or that I should probably learn to use an iron. It is much easier to ignore these problems when I walk away from the mirror. According to James, looking in the mirror is like comparing yourself to God’s laws. If you are honest, you will become aware of the many areas in which you fall short.
There is only one solution -- Jesus. If we look in the mirror and see someone who has been blessed by God's gifts, someone who has been brought to new life through God's word--a person who is a first fruit, set aside as someone who belongs to God, we will no longer be fighting to obtain the impossible. James says that, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” Freed from the need to prove ourselves to God, we can serve our neighbors. Understanding that the potential for sin will never leave us, we can let the blood of the Lamb wash us clean. AMEN
At the beginning of John 6, Jesus is speaking to a generic crowd that is following him in hopes of seeing signs and miracles. Later, he interacts with his critics. In today’s reading, he is addressing first the disciples and then the twelve. This particular group has seen Jesus heal the sick, they were a part of the 5,000 that was fed with five loaves and two fish, and now they were hearing firsthand how to gain eternal life. I would guess that most people would say that they would have become followers of Jesus if they had all of the advantages of this group of disciples. That is what makes verse 66, “After this many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him.” so perplexing.
Our first clue to why the disciples deserted Jesus is when they say, “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?” I have had more students than I can count say “I don’t get it” as a response to instructions and assignments. When prompted to be more specific about what part of it they didn’t understand, the typical response was, “all of it.” Several years ago, we had a group of Micronesians at summer school. We had no interpreter, and only one of the girls spoke much English. Typically, I would hand out the assignment and explain it to her; she would talk to the others, turn to me, and proclaim, “Mister, this is too, too hard” with a look meant to reassure me that, although nothing would make them happier than to please me, it was simply impossible for them to do what I asked.
The Greek word translated “hard” doesn’t mean hard to understand; it means hard to accept or hard to tolerate. The disciples don’t like what they are hearing. I can imagine that their murmuring might have included, “What stuff is this? Eat the flesh, and drink the blood, of the Son of man! If it is to be understood figuratively, it doesn’t make any sense; if he means it literally, we are being asked to do something that is forbidden by our religion and disgusting to boot. What! Are we supposed to become cannibals?” They also convince themselves that since they oppose it, so will anyone else with an ounce of common sense. Now that they have convinced themselves that Jesus is making an unreasonable request, they are free to go home with their self-righteousness intact.
Another part of Jesus’ message that probably turned the disciples away was the idea of abiding with Jesus. Staying with Jesus and learning from him is a long process. For many, a quick fix would be more attractive. The original attraction of Jesus was as a Moses figure who could work miracles and provide political victories. As time went on, they began to realize that Jesus is not offering an easy victory, but the long road of discipleship.
An amazing detail of this reading is the fact that Jesus had known all
along not only that many of the so-called disciples would abandon him, but also which ones it would be. Even so, he made no effort to punish them, push them aside, or even to expose them. Jesus was completely devoid of self-interest -- can you imagine? When Jesus says, “some of you do not believe,” he is really saying that many are incapable of trusting him. If those who literally learned at the feet of Jesus can fall into the “what have you done for me lately?” trap, what hope is there for us?
Look at Jesus’ response to the disciples’ complaints: “Do you take offense at this? Then what if you were to see the Son of man ascending where he was before?” The way that I interpret this, Jesus is throwing down the gauntlet. “So, you think that I am asking too much of you? Like the Israelites, you grumble every time that your mouth isn’t full? Well, would it even matter if you saw me ascend into Heaven? Would that be enough for real belief, or will nothing ever be enough. If you want to pretend to be offended in order to save face, go ahead.” Of course, Jesus would never say any of this. Instead, we are left with a paradox.
Faith only comes as we are drawn by God, yet we are asked for a response. Peter and the others of the twelve choose to remain, but the reality is that they have been chosen. In the words of Barclay, “No man can accept Jesus unless he is moved by the Spirit of God to do so, but to the end of the day a man can resist that Spirit, and such a man is not shut out by God; he is shut out by himself. Christianity is not a philosophy which we accept; it is not a theory to which we give allegiance; it is not something which is thought out; it is not something which is intellectually arrived at. It is a personal response to Jesus Christ.” AMEN
Our first clue to why the disciples deserted Jesus is when they say, “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?” I have had more students than I can count say “I don’t get it” as a response to instructions and assignments. When prompted to be more specific about what part of it they didn’t understand, the typical response was, “all of it.” Several years ago, we had a group of Micronesians at summer school. We had no interpreter, and only one of the girls spoke much English. Typically, I would hand out the assignment and explain it to her; she would talk to the others, turn to me, and proclaim, “Mister, this is too, too hard” with a look meant to reassure me that, although nothing would make them happier than to please me, it was simply impossible for them to do what I asked.
The Greek word translated “hard” doesn’t mean hard to understand; it means hard to accept or hard to tolerate. The disciples don’t like what they are hearing. I can imagine that their murmuring might have included, “What stuff is this? Eat the flesh, and drink the blood, of the Son of man! If it is to be understood figuratively, it doesn’t make any sense; if he means it literally, we are being asked to do something that is forbidden by our religion and disgusting to boot. What! Are we supposed to become cannibals?” They also convince themselves that since they oppose it, so will anyone else with an ounce of common sense. Now that they have convinced themselves that Jesus is making an unreasonable request, they are free to go home with their self-righteousness intact.
Another part of Jesus’ message that probably turned the disciples away was the idea of abiding with Jesus. Staying with Jesus and learning from him is a long process. For many, a quick fix would be more attractive. The original attraction of Jesus was as a Moses figure who could work miracles and provide political victories. As time went on, they began to realize that Jesus is not offering an easy victory, but the long road of discipleship.
An amazing detail of this reading is the fact that Jesus had known all
along not only that many of the so-called disciples would abandon him, but also which ones it would be. Even so, he made no effort to punish them, push them aside, or even to expose them. Jesus was completely devoid of self-interest -- can you imagine? When Jesus says, “some of you do not believe,” he is really saying that many are incapable of trusting him. If those who literally learned at the feet of Jesus can fall into the “what have you done for me lately?” trap, what hope is there for us?
Look at Jesus’ response to the disciples’ complaints: “Do you take offense at this? Then what if you were to see the Son of man ascending where he was before?” The way that I interpret this, Jesus is throwing down the gauntlet. “So, you think that I am asking too much of you? Like the Israelites, you grumble every time that your mouth isn’t full? Well, would it even matter if you saw me ascend into Heaven? Would that be enough for real belief, or will nothing ever be enough. If you want to pretend to be offended in order to save face, go ahead.” Of course, Jesus would never say any of this. Instead, we are left with a paradox.
Faith only comes as we are drawn by God, yet we are asked for a response. Peter and the others of the twelve choose to remain, but the reality is that they have been chosen. In the words of Barclay, “No man can accept Jesus unless he is moved by the Spirit of God to do so, but to the end of the day a man can resist that Spirit, and such a man is not shut out by God; he is shut out by himself. Christianity is not a philosophy which we accept; it is not a theory to which we give allegiance; it is not something which is thought out; it is not something which is intellectually arrived at. It is a personal response to Jesus Christ.” AMEN
This is my fourth and final week of sermons about bread (wait for applause). In the verse that ended last week’s reading and begins this week’s, Jesus says “the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” Of course, this leads modern readers to think of communion, but it wouldn’t have worked that way for the original listeners, and I don’t believe that was John’s intent. In the beautiful language of William Barclay, “It is the wondrous thought of John that the communion table, and the dinner table, and the picnic on the seashore or the hillside are all alike in that at all of them we can taste and touch and handle the bread and the wine which bring us Christ. Christianity would be a poor thing if Christ were confined to Churches. It is John’s belief that we can find Christ anywhere in a Christ-filled world.”
What I like best about this reading is that Jesus isn’t just using bread as a metaphorical sermon illustration. He concern isn’t explaining himself; he simply wants his hearers to eat. Understanding may or may not result, but, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” Rejecting Jesus means rejecting life, while those who eat Jesus’ flesh and drink his blood are promised several things: they will have eternal life and be raised up on the last day. They will abide in Jesus and He in them. They will live because of Jesus and will live forever.
I know that I have talked about this before, but there is a difference between living forever and eternal life. Jesus is not offering us a separate, heavenly life that we might or might not obtain depending on how well we follow the rules here on earth. This eternal or forever life is qualitatively different from regular human life; it is the kind of life that belongs only to the divine. By trusting in Jesus, eating his flesh and drinking his blood, we participate in this divine life even now. While we believe that Jesus will come again in judgement, today’s message of being raised on the last day is not touched by fear of that judgement. Jesus is offering to abide in us while we abide in Him. This doesn’t come through understanding correctly or believing the right things. Being in close communion with Jesus is to remain in Jesus and to have Jesus remain in us.
Barclay compares this internalization of Jesus with the reading of a book. Owning a book doesn’t make you any smarter, and displaying a book on the shelf doesn’t do anything for you either. It is only by reading the book that what was once outside of us becomes a part of us. It is easy to take this metaphor straight to the reading of scripture. If we don’t open the Bible, of course there is no way for its message to reach us. If we simply use the Bible as a reference book, looking for information to support our current beliefs, or as a history book that gives us names and dates, we are not gaining anything that contributes to our eternal life either. It is only by reading the Bible as the living word of God that the message can become a part of us, much like the impact of reading a great novel, play, or poem.
The bread which is Jesus is a free gift, but there is a cost of sorts. Jesus promises to abide in us as we eat, and His abiding presence will not leave us the same. We will be leaving behind some of the things that have made us the most comfortable in the past -- things like measuring ourselves against our neighbors. We will need to let go of our illusions of being in control. Instead, we will be in relationship with God, who will continue to form and reform us.
By eating Christ’s flesh and drinking his blood, we can become his flesh and blood. As Paul explained in Ephesians 1:5, “God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” Not only are we the body of Christ in the world, we are the sons and daughters of God. AMEN
What I like best about this reading is that Jesus isn’t just using bread as a metaphorical sermon illustration. He concern isn’t explaining himself; he simply wants his hearers to eat. Understanding may or may not result, but, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” Rejecting Jesus means rejecting life, while those who eat Jesus’ flesh and drink his blood are promised several things: they will have eternal life and be raised up on the last day. They will abide in Jesus and He in them. They will live because of Jesus and will live forever.
I know that I have talked about this before, but there is a difference between living forever and eternal life. Jesus is not offering us a separate, heavenly life that we might or might not obtain depending on how well we follow the rules here on earth. This eternal or forever life is qualitatively different from regular human life; it is the kind of life that belongs only to the divine. By trusting in Jesus, eating his flesh and drinking his blood, we participate in this divine life even now. While we believe that Jesus will come again in judgement, today’s message of being raised on the last day is not touched by fear of that judgement. Jesus is offering to abide in us while we abide in Him. This doesn’t come through understanding correctly or believing the right things. Being in close communion with Jesus is to remain in Jesus and to have Jesus remain in us.
Barclay compares this internalization of Jesus with the reading of a book. Owning a book doesn’t make you any smarter, and displaying a book on the shelf doesn’t do anything for you either. It is only by reading the book that what was once outside of us becomes a part of us. It is easy to take this metaphor straight to the reading of scripture. If we don’t open the Bible, of course there is no way for its message to reach us. If we simply use the Bible as a reference book, looking for information to support our current beliefs, or as a history book that gives us names and dates, we are not gaining anything that contributes to our eternal life either. It is only by reading the Bible as the living word of God that the message can become a part of us, much like the impact of reading a great novel, play, or poem.
The bread which is Jesus is a free gift, but there is a cost of sorts. Jesus promises to abide in us as we eat, and His abiding presence will not leave us the same. We will be leaving behind some of the things that have made us the most comfortable in the past -- things like measuring ourselves against our neighbors. We will need to let go of our illusions of being in control. Instead, we will be in relationship with God, who will continue to form and reform us.
By eating Christ’s flesh and drinking his blood, we can become his flesh and blood. As Paul explained in Ephesians 1:5, “God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” Not only are we the body of Christ in the world, we are the sons and daughters of God. AMEN
At Bible school on Wednesday, I attempted to explain the Holy Spirit to a group of very young kids. I told them that Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to live inside of everyone so that God is always with us. Of course, one young man immediately raised his hand and asked, “What if we don’t want the Spirit to be inside of us?” I think that this was an excellent question. There are many people in the world today who want to deny the power of God in their lives, and the Gospel reading shows us that this has been true since the time of Jesus.
In last week’s reading, Jesus told the crowd that they had followed him because he had fed them -- not because they had seen the hand of God in the feeding of the 5,000. We begin today where we left off last Sunday: Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Excuse the pun, but this is just too much for the listeners to swallow. They know who Jesus is and where he came from. They are also sure that they understand how the relationship between man and God is supposed to work, and we all know how difficult it is to listen with an open mind when what is being said conflicts with what we know to be true. Unfortunately, they get caught up in arguing with each other and never consider turning to God for the answers. I can imagine different members of the group quoting different scriptures to support their points of view. As a result, they listened to the words of Jesus without learning.
Those of us here today can look at Jesus’ words differently. We are in church because we already believe that Jesus was the Son of God, that he died for our sins, and that He is the way to eternal life. One of the hardest things for most of us to explain is how faith works. Jesus explains it as follows: “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. It is written in the prophets, "And they shall all be taught by God.' Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father.” The word for being drawn is the same as the one that describes how a fisherman pulls a net into the boat. The image of God dragging all of us toward Jesus is quite striking. In addition to the fisherman, it reminds me of the tractor beam that pulled the Millenium Falcon toward the Death Star in Star Wars and gravity. Whichever metaphor you choose, the first step is an act of God that in no way relies on human action. We can struggle like a fish in a net, try to use reverse thrust like Han Solo, or deny that gravity exists because we can’t see it. In the end, it doesn’t matter; the pull of God is a force that exists without our help or even acknowledgement.
So, where is God pulling us? The Gospel tells us that we are being pulled to Jesus. Since Jesus comes from God, he is what we would call a primary source. The words of Jesus are the words of God, and the actions of Jesus are the actions of God. If we try to untangle this or break it down so that we can understand it, we risk missing out not only on the meaning but on the result. It is really quite simple. “To refuse Jesus is to refuse the essential of life, and miss life in this world and in the world to come. On the other hand, to accept the offer of Jesus is to find life, a life which gives real life in this world, and glory in the world to come.”
It is one thing to accept these words from the mouth of Jesus, but how do we bring them forward today? Of course, we need to read and study the scriptures in order to be “taught by God,” but, just as Jesus pulled the Word forward by his presence, we need to do our part today. As I mentioned last week, we are the hands of God in the world today. In addition, we were made in the image of God. As the Synod of Catholic Bishops said, “Because every man is truly a visible image of the invisible God and a brother of Christ, the Christian finds in every man God himself and God's absolute demand for justice and love.” The reading from Ephesians shows us how we are to live in order to make God visible: “So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil… Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” It might seem that these are just platitudes and that it can’t possibly be that simple, but these are the beliefs upon which our faith is built. AMEN
In last week’s reading, Jesus told the crowd that they had followed him because he had fed them -- not because they had seen the hand of God in the feeding of the 5,000. We begin today where we left off last Sunday: Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Excuse the pun, but this is just too much for the listeners to swallow. They know who Jesus is and where he came from. They are also sure that they understand how the relationship between man and God is supposed to work, and we all know how difficult it is to listen with an open mind when what is being said conflicts with what we know to be true. Unfortunately, they get caught up in arguing with each other and never consider turning to God for the answers. I can imagine different members of the group quoting different scriptures to support their points of view. As a result, they listened to the words of Jesus without learning.
Those of us here today can look at Jesus’ words differently. We are in church because we already believe that Jesus was the Son of God, that he died for our sins, and that He is the way to eternal life. One of the hardest things for most of us to explain is how faith works. Jesus explains it as follows: “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. It is written in the prophets, "And they shall all be taught by God.' Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father.” The word for being drawn is the same as the one that describes how a fisherman pulls a net into the boat. The image of God dragging all of us toward Jesus is quite striking. In addition to the fisherman, it reminds me of the tractor beam that pulled the Millenium Falcon toward the Death Star in Star Wars and gravity. Whichever metaphor you choose, the first step is an act of God that in no way relies on human action. We can struggle like a fish in a net, try to use reverse thrust like Han Solo, or deny that gravity exists because we can’t see it. In the end, it doesn’t matter; the pull of God is a force that exists without our help or even acknowledgement.
So, where is God pulling us? The Gospel tells us that we are being pulled to Jesus. Since Jesus comes from God, he is what we would call a primary source. The words of Jesus are the words of God, and the actions of Jesus are the actions of God. If we try to untangle this or break it down so that we can understand it, we risk missing out not only on the meaning but on the result. It is really quite simple. “To refuse Jesus is to refuse the essential of life, and miss life in this world and in the world to come. On the other hand, to accept the offer of Jesus is to find life, a life which gives real life in this world, and glory in the world to come.”
It is one thing to accept these words from the mouth of Jesus, but how do we bring them forward today? Of course, we need to read and study the scriptures in order to be “taught by God,” but, just as Jesus pulled the Word forward by his presence, we need to do our part today. As I mentioned last week, we are the hands of God in the world today. In addition, we were made in the image of God. As the Synod of Catholic Bishops said, “Because every man is truly a visible image of the invisible God and a brother of Christ, the Christian finds in every man God himself and God's absolute demand for justice and love.” The reading from Ephesians shows us how we are to live in order to make God visible: “So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil… Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” It might seem that these are just platitudes and that it can’t possibly be that simple, but these are the beliefs upon which our faith is built. AMEN
Our gospel reading for today picks up the day after the feeding of the 5,000. Jesus had slipped away because the crowd had begun to view him as the Messiah, and he knew that their next move would be to attempt to crown him king. The people have now caught up with him on the other side of the sea. At the beginning of last week’s gospel, we were told that the crowds were there because of the signs -- specifically the healings that had been performed by Jesus. Today’s reading is a conversation between Jesus and the crowd characterized by misunderstandings. First, Jesus is asked when he arrived. Jesus replies, “you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” Then Jesus tells them not to work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life. The crowd picks up on the word “work,” and asks what they need to do to perform the works of God. When Jesus tells them that the work of God is “that you believe in him whom he has sent,” the crowd returns to the idea of signs… they want to know how they will be able to tell that they are doing it right. At this point, they reach into the past for an example of a sign: the provision of manna in the wilderness. Jesus explains that the manna was a gift from God, not Moses, and that “that you believe in him whom he has sent.” They reply that this is the bread that they are after, and that they would like to have it forever. The reading concludes with the statement, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
What can we learn from this passage? First of all, I don’t think that Jesus is telling the crowd that it was wrong to want more bread because they are hungry again. What disappoints Jesus is that they don’t ask for more than bread. Aren’t we often guilty of the same thing? We pray for things like health, success, and favorable weather, but how much time do we spend working on our relationship with God? Again, this doesn’t mean that we are to abandon all earthly comforts and pursuits. There is nothing inherently evil about taking care of our needs and those of our families. I know that there are passages in scripture where Jesus tells those with much that they must give it all up if they are to follow him, but I think that those cases are used to make specific points rather than as a general rule. Even when the disciples are sent out with just the clothes on their back, it is to reinforce the idea that we can trust God for everything that we need.
If Jesus wants us to ask for more, what does that mean? As I have been saying, it is not about making a choice between the worldly and the spiritual. What we need to realize is that the line between meeting peoples tangible needs and inviting them to enter into a relationship with God is not a biblical line, but a human one. Jesus tells the crowd that their work is simply to believe in the one who was sent. They ask how they know that they are believing hard enough or if they are doing it right. As an example, they bring up the manna in the wilderness as proof that Moses and God were there for them. Their mistake is that Jesus doesn’t play the role of Moses, but, instead, he is the manna. There is danger here as well. If we respond to the idea that there is nothing that we can do to perform the works of God, we might respond by living lives that don’t have much to do with God at all. If all that we have to do is believe, we can certainly do that by baptizing our children, making sure that they are confirmed, and maintaining an association with a church. This is a slippery slope because it bases everything about faith in the past and the future. Because Jesus lived a couple of thousand years ago, we will go to Heaven when we die. It totally ignores the reality of Christ in the present.
Bringing our relationship with God into the present means that we, like Jesus, must become the bread of life in our communities. “In the community of persons we are the true bread for one another. We have power to provide what is necessary, what is essential for satisfying living. We give the love that builds people and binds lives together. We share the joys of living. We give forgiveness when someone has hurt us. We provide encouragement for the discouraged. We pick up the fallen. We lighten the sorrowing spirit. We are the true bread for one another! Our lives have been given the power of that aliveness. We can, by our Creator’s gift, be a generating, power-giving source of life for one another. We can be for the other what is essential. We are the body of Christ in this time and in this place. It is right to say in the family of man, we are the bread of life for one another! Our brother, Jesus, has showed us the way! AMEN
What can we learn from this passage? First of all, I don’t think that Jesus is telling the crowd that it was wrong to want more bread because they are hungry again. What disappoints Jesus is that they don’t ask for more than bread. Aren’t we often guilty of the same thing? We pray for things like health, success, and favorable weather, but how much time do we spend working on our relationship with God? Again, this doesn’t mean that we are to abandon all earthly comforts and pursuits. There is nothing inherently evil about taking care of our needs and those of our families. I know that there are passages in scripture where Jesus tells those with much that they must give it all up if they are to follow him, but I think that those cases are used to make specific points rather than as a general rule. Even when the disciples are sent out with just the clothes on their back, it is to reinforce the idea that we can trust God for everything that we need.
If Jesus wants us to ask for more, what does that mean? As I have been saying, it is not about making a choice between the worldly and the spiritual. What we need to realize is that the line between meeting peoples tangible needs and inviting them to enter into a relationship with God is not a biblical line, but a human one. Jesus tells the crowd that their work is simply to believe in the one who was sent. They ask how they know that they are believing hard enough or if they are doing it right. As an example, they bring up the manna in the wilderness as proof that Moses and God were there for them. Their mistake is that Jesus doesn’t play the role of Moses, but, instead, he is the manna. There is danger here as well. If we respond to the idea that there is nothing that we can do to perform the works of God, we might respond by living lives that don’t have much to do with God at all. If all that we have to do is believe, we can certainly do that by baptizing our children, making sure that they are confirmed, and maintaining an association with a church. This is a slippery slope because it bases everything about faith in the past and the future. Because Jesus lived a couple of thousand years ago, we will go to Heaven when we die. It totally ignores the reality of Christ in the present.
Bringing our relationship with God into the present means that we, like Jesus, must become the bread of life in our communities. “In the community of persons we are the true bread for one another. We have power to provide what is necessary, what is essential for satisfying living. We give the love that builds people and binds lives together. We share the joys of living. We give forgiveness when someone has hurt us. We provide encouragement for the discouraged. We pick up the fallen. We lighten the sorrowing spirit. We are the true bread for one another! Our lives have been given the power of that aliveness. We can, by our Creator’s gift, be a generating, power-giving source of life for one another. We can be for the other what is essential. We are the body of Christ in this time and in this place. It is right to say in the family of man, we are the bread of life for one another! Our brother, Jesus, has showed us the way! AMEN
The feeding of the 5,000 is one of the best-known stories in the Bible. It is in all four gospels, along with two accounts of Jesus feeding 4,000 people. It is no wonder that this story is popular -- it portrays Jesus as everything that we want him to be. He and his disciples are travelling around the countryside healing the sick wherever they go. Word has spread, so large crowds are following him everywhere. It seems that the people trust Jesus so much that they forget about everyday concerns like packing a lunch when they wander out into the wilderness. Of course, this is no problem for Jesus who whips up a banquet from five measly barley loaves and two tiny, pickled fish. Scholars continue to debate whether the meal was actually a sacramental meal in which the people were filled figuratively with the wonder of the presence of Jesus and the reality of God, a giant potluck where people reluctantly shared their lunches with each other, or if the abundance of food is meant to be taken literally as a miracle performed by Jesus. I really don’t think that it matters which way we look at it, but I prefer to take it literally.
I can imagine the scene when the disciples tell the people to sit down on the grass. Most likely, there are 5,000 men plus a large number of women and children. I see them in clusters; the other gospels say that they were seated in groups of 50 or 100. In this version of the story, Jesus feeds everyone himself. Even if we cap the number of people at 5,000, there would have been between 50 and 100 groups of people sitting on the grass waiting to be fed. Without a stage or a microphone, it is unlikely that all of the people could see or hear Jesus, so let’s put him on a small hill or a big rock. There were likely more than 12 disciples here, because we have not yet reached the point in John where several disciples abandon Jesus. So, as the crowds look at Jesus, they see him holding up the meagre loaves of bread and the tiny fish. They know that he is saying the traditional blessing, “Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who causest to come forth bread from the earth.” As Jesus comes down and begins serving the first group, there must be murmurs throughout the crowd -- “There will never be enough food for everyone. He will never get to us. How come we always pick the table furthest from the buffet table?” It had to be more stressful than when the crowd is bigger than expected at church and the communion assistant begins to count people left to commune and cups of wine in the tray!
At some point, it becomes apparent that something strange is going on here. Jesus is going from group to group serving food without ever needing to replenish his supplies. What an amazing feeling it must have been to realize that this man, this healer, is able to provide an abundant meal from virtually nothing. I imagine the change from grumbling nervousness to laughter and joy as people began to understand that they will be fed and, more importantly, that they are witnessing the work of the long-awaited messiah. As the leftovers are collected and displayed, the mood must have been festive. As I said earlier, Jesus, at this moment, is everything that we want him to be: generous without limits, powerful beyond understanding, and interested in our comfort and wellbeing like today’s Psalm says, “You open your hand, satisfying the desire of every living thing.”
This is a great feel-good story until it crashes into reality. Jesus knows that he needs to get away from the people before they make him their king by force. He understands that their expectations of him will be that he smite their enemies, cure their illnesses, and protect them from harm. As long as they get what they want for their earthly comfort, they will follow him. The story of the disciples in the boat completes the reality check. We don’t know why the disciples leave without Jesus. Maybe it is as simple as how we walk away from the communion rail, out the doors of the church, and back into our daily lives. The disciples encounter a storm, but there is really nothing unusual about that. In this version, they seem to be managing just fine. When they see Jesus, they are frightened, but they do recognize him. I wonder if their fright has something to do with a feeling of guilt that they left him behind. Jesus doesn’t calm the storm in John’s account. This might remind us that there is difficulty in life -- even for Christians. Jesus tells them, "It is I; do not be afraid." Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going. Jesus doesn’t even need to get into the boat for the disciples to reach their destination -- they merely have to desire his presence.
Today’s gospel is full of food for thought about our relationships with God. Instead of trusting Jesus, Philip checks the books and reports that there is not enough money in the account to help the needy. Andrew locates some resources, but he cannot see how what little he has found can make a difference. The crowds follow Jesus because he gives them what they want. Finally, even the disciples leave Jesus behind after their needs have been satisfied. Like the crowds and the disciples we want the big things. Healing from horrible diseases. Instant money when the house is in foreclosure. A miracle for the child who cannot overcome addictions. Sometimes this is the miracle that we get. How often is it, though, that all that is needed is a simple reassurance that, indeed, Jesus the Christ is present? AMEN
I can imagine the scene when the disciples tell the people to sit down on the grass. Most likely, there are 5,000 men plus a large number of women and children. I see them in clusters; the other gospels say that they were seated in groups of 50 or 100. In this version of the story, Jesus feeds everyone himself. Even if we cap the number of people at 5,000, there would have been between 50 and 100 groups of people sitting on the grass waiting to be fed. Without a stage or a microphone, it is unlikely that all of the people could see or hear Jesus, so let’s put him on a small hill or a big rock. There were likely more than 12 disciples here, because we have not yet reached the point in John where several disciples abandon Jesus. So, as the crowds look at Jesus, they see him holding up the meagre loaves of bread and the tiny fish. They know that he is saying the traditional blessing, “Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who causest to come forth bread from the earth.” As Jesus comes down and begins serving the first group, there must be murmurs throughout the crowd -- “There will never be enough food for everyone. He will never get to us. How come we always pick the table furthest from the buffet table?” It had to be more stressful than when the crowd is bigger than expected at church and the communion assistant begins to count people left to commune and cups of wine in the tray!
At some point, it becomes apparent that something strange is going on here. Jesus is going from group to group serving food without ever needing to replenish his supplies. What an amazing feeling it must have been to realize that this man, this healer, is able to provide an abundant meal from virtually nothing. I imagine the change from grumbling nervousness to laughter and joy as people began to understand that they will be fed and, more importantly, that they are witnessing the work of the long-awaited messiah. As the leftovers are collected and displayed, the mood must have been festive. As I said earlier, Jesus, at this moment, is everything that we want him to be: generous without limits, powerful beyond understanding, and interested in our comfort and wellbeing like today’s Psalm says, “You open your hand, satisfying the desire of every living thing.”
This is a great feel-good story until it crashes into reality. Jesus knows that he needs to get away from the people before they make him their king by force. He understands that their expectations of him will be that he smite their enemies, cure their illnesses, and protect them from harm. As long as they get what they want for their earthly comfort, they will follow him. The story of the disciples in the boat completes the reality check. We don’t know why the disciples leave without Jesus. Maybe it is as simple as how we walk away from the communion rail, out the doors of the church, and back into our daily lives. The disciples encounter a storm, but there is really nothing unusual about that. In this version, they seem to be managing just fine. When they see Jesus, they are frightened, but they do recognize him. I wonder if their fright has something to do with a feeling of guilt that they left him behind. Jesus doesn’t calm the storm in John’s account. This might remind us that there is difficulty in life -- even for Christians. Jesus tells them, "It is I; do not be afraid." Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going. Jesus doesn’t even need to get into the boat for the disciples to reach their destination -- they merely have to desire his presence.
Today’s gospel is full of food for thought about our relationships with God. Instead of trusting Jesus, Philip checks the books and reports that there is not enough money in the account to help the needy. Andrew locates some resources, but he cannot see how what little he has found can make a difference. The crowds follow Jesus because he gives them what they want. Finally, even the disciples leave Jesus behind after their needs have been satisfied. Like the crowds and the disciples we want the big things. Healing from horrible diseases. Instant money when the house is in foreclosure. A miracle for the child who cannot overcome addictions. Sometimes this is the miracle that we get. How often is it, though, that all that is needed is a simple reassurance that, indeed, Jesus the Christ is present? AMEN
Most of today’s gospel reading is a flashback inserted by Mark in the middle of the story of the disciples being sent out and returning. It is challenging to find any “good news” in the story of the beheading of John the Baptist, which reads more like a modern soap opera than an ancient story. Herod the Great was married many times, and he had many children (although he became paranoid in his later years and murdered many members of his family). The two brothers in our story, Herod Philip and Herod Antipas were half-brothers. Herodias, who was married first to Herod Philip and then to Herod Antipas, was the daughter of yet another half-brother. Herod’s dancing daughter, Salome, was simultaneously his daughter, his niece, and his great niece. She later married to Philip the Tetrarch, who was -- you guessed it -- half-brother to the Herods.
It is tempting to dismiss Herod’s actions because we view him simply as a caricature of an evil man who had the power to turn his evil desires into action. We would never behave so badly -- besides, we don’t have the power to commit the kinds of atrocities that Herod committed. We are, after all, better people than Herod. Or at least we have the advantage of hindsight. This is a dangerous position because it keeps us from learning anything from the story of Herod and John the Baptist.
In spite of the fact that John dares to confront Herod over his marriage to Herodias, “Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.” Something inside of Herod was able to respond to the message of John. Even though he had him imprisoned, he must have visited with him on occasion. Herodias, on the other hand, had nothing but hatred for John. It is likely that this hatred could have been a sign of fear of and respect for John.
Like all of us, Herod and Herodias are motivated by a combination of confidence and insecurity. Although Herod is called a king in the reading, he was never able to attain that rank. When Herod married Herodias, his former wife fled to her father, an Arabian king who avenged his daughter’s dishonor by invading Herod’s territory and defeating him soundly. Years later, Herod went to Rome to plead for the title of king; he was banished to Gaul for having the insolence of asking. In addition to lacking a title, Herod showed a lack of power that came from a lack of self-control. One would have to guess that at least part of his attraction to Herodias was because she was unavailable. He was unable to truly open up to John the Baptist, even though he respected him. His ultimate decision to have John beheaded was the result of two weaknesses: his strange and disturbing attraction to a young woman who was related to him in multiple ways and his fear of public opinion if he broke his promise to her. His power is completely undercut by his inability to do what he knows is right.
This is an important message at this point in Mark because it foreshadows what will happen to Jesus and the disciples. The account of the disciples being commissioned, going forth, and returning to report success is tempered by the flashback to John’s beheading. Instead of attaining earthly success, John has become significant through his faithful witness and death at the hands of a reluctant government official -- just as Jesus will. The disciples’ path, like ours, will be interrupted by moments when we give in to our insecurities and the pressure to be viewed as successful. AMEN
It is tempting to dismiss Herod’s actions because we view him simply as a caricature of an evil man who had the power to turn his evil desires into action. We would never behave so badly -- besides, we don’t have the power to commit the kinds of atrocities that Herod committed. We are, after all, better people than Herod. Or at least we have the advantage of hindsight. This is a dangerous position because it keeps us from learning anything from the story of Herod and John the Baptist.
In spite of the fact that John dares to confront Herod over his marriage to Herodias, “Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.” Something inside of Herod was able to respond to the message of John. Even though he had him imprisoned, he must have visited with him on occasion. Herodias, on the other hand, had nothing but hatred for John. It is likely that this hatred could have been a sign of fear of and respect for John.
Like all of us, Herod and Herodias are motivated by a combination of confidence and insecurity. Although Herod is called a king in the reading, he was never able to attain that rank. When Herod married Herodias, his former wife fled to her father, an Arabian king who avenged his daughter’s dishonor by invading Herod’s territory and defeating him soundly. Years later, Herod went to Rome to plead for the title of king; he was banished to Gaul for having the insolence of asking. In addition to lacking a title, Herod showed a lack of power that came from a lack of self-control. One would have to guess that at least part of his attraction to Herodias was because she was unavailable. He was unable to truly open up to John the Baptist, even though he respected him. His ultimate decision to have John beheaded was the result of two weaknesses: his strange and disturbing attraction to a young woman who was related to him in multiple ways and his fear of public opinion if he broke his promise to her. His power is completely undercut by his inability to do what he knows is right.
This is an important message at this point in Mark because it foreshadows what will happen to Jesus and the disciples. The account of the disciples being commissioned, going forth, and returning to report success is tempered by the flashback to John’s beheading. Instead of attaining earthly success, John has become significant through his faithful witness and death at the hands of a reluctant government official -- just as Jesus will. The disciples’ path, like ours, will be interrupted by moments when we give in to our insecurities and the pressure to be viewed as successful. AMEN
There is a lot going on in this week’s gospel reading -- and in Mark’s account of Jesus’ ministry. We have been following Jesus and the disciples around the countryside. Crowds gather and disperse, healings and teaching occur, and the disciples are exposed more and more to the work of Jesus. At the beginning of today’s reading, Jesus and the disciples return to Nazareth. The last time that they were here, Jesus’ family tried to bring him home because they were afraid that he was losing his mind. This time, the crowd at the synagogue seems to go from impressed to repulsed by Jesus in a matter of minutes. I love the way that “The Message” translation puts it: “They tripped over what little they knew about him and fell, sprawling. And they never got any further.” We all know how powerful preconceptions can be. In the words of William Barclay, “There can be no preaching in the wrong atmosphere… In an atmosphere of expectancy the poorest effort can catch fire. In an atmosphere of critical coldness or bland indifference, the most Spirit-packed utterance can fall lifeless to the earth. There can be no peace-making in the wrong atmosphere. If people have come together to hate, they will hate. If people have come together to refuse to understand, they will misunderstand. If people have come together to see no other point of view but their own, they will see no other.”
“Ultimately, what didn't happen in Nazareth is not much of a surprise. A miracle is not just an event but it is an interpreted event. If Jesus is not regarded to be capable of healing, any healing that does happen won't be attributed to him. So, there is nothing here to see. Move along, move along…” At this point, Jesus really has no good options in Nazareth. He was doomed no matter what he did. Do more miracles, and the people write him off as a showboat (and/or as someone drawing off power from dubious sources). If he refused to do miracles, maybe a few would say, “What now?! We’re not good enough for ya, not WORTHY of your wonder-working power!?” What is really important is not how any person or group responded to Jesus, but the overall mission of Jesus. The title of “prophet” is not one that we are comfortable giving Jesus -- it just seems too small. It helps to look at a definition: “a biblical prophet is one who speaks to the people in the name of God—mainly with reference to the present, though past and future are invoked as they pertain to the present (calling for repentance and offering hope). Typically, prophets speak against “business as usual,” and therefore they are normally resisted and rejected.”
The combination of the negative mindset in Nazareth and the importance of Jesus mission made the next step a logical one. Jesus resumed his teaching and sent the disciples out into the mission field as well. This is the point where many of us feel uncomfortable being referred to as disciples -- we simply can’t imagine ourselves as adequate for the task of prophecy. It reminds me of when one of the neighbors who was struggling to find a job decided to sell Amway. By the time that my mom answered the doorbell, he was already back at the bottom of the stairs. His “sales pitch” was a mumbled, “Hi, I’m selling Amway products, but I’m sure that you don’t want any. I’m sorry that I bothered you.” If mom wouldn’t have insisted that he come in, I’m sure that he would have been running by the time he got to his car. The facts that we were his neighbors and had never treated him unkindly and that Amway had given him a script to read were not enough to overcome his lack of confidence.
Is that where the church is today? According to Barclay, “The spiritual climate of a congregation, its sense of expectancy, its openness to the power of God at work through Jesus Christ, will in fact have a great deal to do with how much God’s power can accomplish in that particular community.” When we wonder, “Why the lack of missionary zeal? Why the lack of concern for the poor and needy? Why the lack of spirituality? It is unbelief. We need more faith.” Remember that faith is a mutual act between Jesus and a person. He offers to give himself to each of us. We (often) receive him. A failure in faith is like closing or even locking the doors to our hearts. Those who expect nothing from God will not be disappointed.
So, what is the key to accepting the role of disciple, apostle, or even prophet? We need to remember that,“When the apostles went out to preach to men, they did not CREATE a message; they BROUGHT a message.” “The disciple sent in Jesus’ name and spirit is not to impose his or her agenda on another. He or she is to travel light… the directions given to the apostles also demonstrate the need for Jesus’ people not to show up so encumbered by their own ‘stuff’ that they are not able to be truly present in the face of another’s need. Before attempting to SHARE the good news, Jesus’ people first need to honor and love others with open ears and an attentive heart.” Amen
“Ultimately, what didn't happen in Nazareth is not much of a surprise. A miracle is not just an event but it is an interpreted event. If Jesus is not regarded to be capable of healing, any healing that does happen won't be attributed to him. So, there is nothing here to see. Move along, move along…” At this point, Jesus really has no good options in Nazareth. He was doomed no matter what he did. Do more miracles, and the people write him off as a showboat (and/or as someone drawing off power from dubious sources). If he refused to do miracles, maybe a few would say, “What now?! We’re not good enough for ya, not WORTHY of your wonder-working power!?” What is really important is not how any person or group responded to Jesus, but the overall mission of Jesus. The title of “prophet” is not one that we are comfortable giving Jesus -- it just seems too small. It helps to look at a definition: “a biblical prophet is one who speaks to the people in the name of God—mainly with reference to the present, though past and future are invoked as they pertain to the present (calling for repentance and offering hope). Typically, prophets speak against “business as usual,” and therefore they are normally resisted and rejected.”
The combination of the negative mindset in Nazareth and the importance of Jesus mission made the next step a logical one. Jesus resumed his teaching and sent the disciples out into the mission field as well. This is the point where many of us feel uncomfortable being referred to as disciples -- we simply can’t imagine ourselves as adequate for the task of prophecy. It reminds me of when one of the neighbors who was struggling to find a job decided to sell Amway. By the time that my mom answered the doorbell, he was already back at the bottom of the stairs. His “sales pitch” was a mumbled, “Hi, I’m selling Amway products, but I’m sure that you don’t want any. I’m sorry that I bothered you.” If mom wouldn’t have insisted that he come in, I’m sure that he would have been running by the time he got to his car. The facts that we were his neighbors and had never treated him unkindly and that Amway had given him a script to read were not enough to overcome his lack of confidence.
Is that where the church is today? According to Barclay, “The spiritual climate of a congregation, its sense of expectancy, its openness to the power of God at work through Jesus Christ, will in fact have a great deal to do with how much God’s power can accomplish in that particular community.” When we wonder, “Why the lack of missionary zeal? Why the lack of concern for the poor and needy? Why the lack of spirituality? It is unbelief. We need more faith.” Remember that faith is a mutual act between Jesus and a person. He offers to give himself to each of us. We (often) receive him. A failure in faith is like closing or even locking the doors to our hearts. Those who expect nothing from God will not be disappointed.
So, what is the key to accepting the role of disciple, apostle, or even prophet? We need to remember that,“When the apostles went out to preach to men, they did not CREATE a message; they BROUGHT a message.” “The disciple sent in Jesus’ name and spirit is not to impose his or her agenda on another. He or she is to travel light… the directions given to the apostles also demonstrate the need for Jesus’ people not to show up so encumbered by their own ‘stuff’ that they are not able to be truly present in the face of another’s need. Before attempting to SHARE the good news, Jesus’ people first need to honor and love others with open ears and an attentive heart.” Amen
Today’s gospel reading is a story within a story. Both stories are about sickness and healing. One of the healed is a 12 year old girl whose father is an important man in the community, while the other is a woman who has spent all that she had seeking a cure for her sickness. They have two things in common: desperation and a belief that Jesus has the power to heal them. These stories tell us that Jesus’ healing authority knows no boundaries. There is nothing that is beyond his power, and earthly boundaries like ethnicity and gender mean nothing to him. They show us how simple faith, even faith born of desperation, can bring healing. No matter who we are, God hears us, even if we don’t speak… even when we are ignoring God’s voice. Most importantly, these stories teach us that God wants more for us than we want for ourselves.
Like any father, Jairus wants his daughter to be restored to health. We have no idea of what other steps he has taken, but it seems unlikely that he would have put all of his trust in Jesus. As a leader of the synagogue, he surely prayed for her recovery. She was probably even on the synagogue prayer list. Had it been me, there would have been some anger and bargaining involved in the prayer. “Lord, I spend most of my time doing your work. Why are you punishing me when there are so many really bad people in the world?” or “If you heal my daughter, I promise that I will start a Wednesday night Torah study to help spread your word.” A combination of what medical resources were available and folk remedies was likely used as well. By the time that Jesus arrived, Jairus knew that time was short for his daughter. When he saw Jesus, he “fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, "My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live."
It must have driven Jairus crazy when Jesus stopped to find out who had touched him in the crowd. In the first place, everyone was jostling for the opportunity to touch Jesus. In the second place, they were on their way to save a life. Nevertheless, Jesus did stop because he was “aware that power had gone forth from him.” The woman had not been able to screw up the courage to tell Jesus what she needed in the midst of the crowd. Instead, she simply reached out and touched the hem of his robe, and “Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.” She could easily have slipped away in the crowd. Instead, “ knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth.”Jesus replied, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." I believe that the distinction between being made well and being healed of her disease is important. This woman has received something more valuable than a return to physical health -- more valuable, even, than being returned to her community. She has been claimed as a daughter; Her faith has saved her. Now words and a promise have been added to the new reality in her life. She receives Jesus’ benediction that invites her to leave and live in the peace of Jesus.
As this healing is concluding, the news comes that Jairus’s daughter has died. Jesus says simply, "Do not fear, only believe." We, the readers, have known all along that Jesus would raise the little girl from the dead. As far as we know, she goes on to live a full life. The fact that both the woman and the girl will eventually die points out that earthly healing is incomplete. “Yet in the middle of all our infirmities -- of heart, mind, body, soul -- Jesus reaches out his hand to connect us to something larger, greater, and infinitely more health filled than the world around us, and says, ‘Little one, get up! Now take my body, and eat.’” AMEN
Like any father, Jairus wants his daughter to be restored to health. We have no idea of what other steps he has taken, but it seems unlikely that he would have put all of his trust in Jesus. As a leader of the synagogue, he surely prayed for her recovery. She was probably even on the synagogue prayer list. Had it been me, there would have been some anger and bargaining involved in the prayer. “Lord, I spend most of my time doing your work. Why are you punishing me when there are so many really bad people in the world?” or “If you heal my daughter, I promise that I will start a Wednesday night Torah study to help spread your word.” A combination of what medical resources were available and folk remedies was likely used as well. By the time that Jesus arrived, Jairus knew that time was short for his daughter. When he saw Jesus, he “fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, "My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live."
It must have driven Jairus crazy when Jesus stopped to find out who had touched him in the crowd. In the first place, everyone was jostling for the opportunity to touch Jesus. In the second place, they were on their way to save a life. Nevertheless, Jesus did stop because he was “aware that power had gone forth from him.” The woman had not been able to screw up the courage to tell Jesus what she needed in the midst of the crowd. Instead, she simply reached out and touched the hem of his robe, and “Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.” She could easily have slipped away in the crowd. Instead, “ knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth.”Jesus replied, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." I believe that the distinction between being made well and being healed of her disease is important. This woman has received something more valuable than a return to physical health -- more valuable, even, than being returned to her community. She has been claimed as a daughter; Her faith has saved her. Now words and a promise have been added to the new reality in her life. She receives Jesus’ benediction that invites her to leave and live in the peace of Jesus.
As this healing is concluding, the news comes that Jairus’s daughter has died. Jesus says simply, "Do not fear, only believe." We, the readers, have known all along that Jesus would raise the little girl from the dead. As far as we know, she goes on to live a full life. The fact that both the woman and the girl will eventually die points out that earthly healing is incomplete. “Yet in the middle of all our infirmities -- of heart, mind, body, soul -- Jesus reaches out his hand to connect us to something larger, greater, and infinitely more health filled than the world around us, and says, ‘Little one, get up! Now take my body, and eat.’” AMEN
Today’s gospel reading has three parts: two parables and a description of Jesus’ teaching method: “With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.” A parable is an earthly story with a heavenly meaning. Something on earth is compared with something in heaven so that the heavenly truth can be better understood. Notice the line, “as they were able to hear it.” Jesus is trying to explain an abstract concept -- the kingdom of God, by using the concrete agricultural images to crowds of people who had experience with growing things. Ideally, here’s how it would work: Jesus would share a parable or series of parables with the crowd; those who were interested enough would think about their experience with the concrete part of the parable and try to figure out how that could explain the heavenly truth. Because each person has different experiences and different thought processes, conversation would be a natural result. Some would get nothing from the parable and move on, others would come to a satisfying conclusion, and a few, the most diligent learners, would bring their ideas back to Jesus, who could then “fill in the blanks” for them. As Barclay says, “true teaching consists in sharing and discovering truth together. It is a joint exploration of the countries of the mind.”
So, let’s take a run at understanding the two parables included in today’s gospel. The first seems rather nondescript; the heavenly meaning is the kingdom of God. In the earthly story, someone plants some seeds, which proceed to grow. The planter follows the normal pattern of sleeping and waking. Meanwhile, “ the earth produces of itself,” although the planter doesn’t understand how. Finally, the grain ripens, and the planter takes a sickle to it. The meaning of this parable depends on what part stands out to you -- what you emphasize. What did you notice? The fact that the one who planted the seeds didn’t tend to them, but they grew anyway? The idea that the seeds depended on the earth for growth? Did the image of the sickle and the harvest bring judgement to your mind? There are a couple of dangers when analyzing parables. One is simply picking the first thing that comes to your mind and calling it truth. For example, we could say that this parable shows that the kingdom of God is like a seed because it comes without our help just like the seed becomes a plant without the help of the planter. While this might be true, it can’t be the whole truth. For one thing, that is a simple enough idea that it probably doesn’t need a whole parable. For another thing, someone did plant the seeds in the story and that same someone picked up the sickle at the end. The other danger is torturing the parable in an effort to eliminate any ambiguity. If the heavenly truth wasn’t ambiguous, the parable wouldn’t be needed.
The second parable is more familiar, probably because it is in all three of the synoptic gospels. Again, we begin with the sowing of seeds. This time, it is a mustard seed, which is referred to as “the smallest of all the seeds on earth.” In spite of the small seed, the result is “the greatest of all shrubs” which “puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade." Once again, your interpretation of the parable will depend on what you choose to emphasize. Of course, the most obvious lesson in this parable is that faith the size of a mustard seed can result in a kingdom that provides shelter for the birds of the air. A little background information is helpful for understanding this parable. First of all, mustard isn’t the kind of plant that most of Jesus’ listeners would have considered cultivating -- it falls more into the category of a useful weed. Secondly, it is likely that Jesus is exaggerating for effect when he calls mustard the “king of all shrubs.” It is very dense and reaches heights of 6-8 feet, but it is hardly majestic or comparable to the mighty cedars of Lebanon. Besides, king of shrubs seems like an oxymoron like jumbo shrimp. This additional information adds some possibilities for depth in our understanding of the parable. I can imagine a rich discussion of what it means to be a useful weed -- if those of us with fields, gardens, and yards can even get our heads around such a concept. The idea that the kingdom of God is being compared to a plant that is unimpressive, and even viewed as an invasive nuisance, provides more food for thought. Up to a point, the more time that we give this parable, the more that we can learn from it.
Reading the parables is a good reminder of the importance not only of reading the Bible, but of taking the time for thought and discussion. “In a time when faith sometimes gets equated with the certainty that ‘we’ know God and are right and ‘they’ do not know God and are wrong, we can explore the role of mystery in our discipleship. AMEN
So, let’s take a run at understanding the two parables included in today’s gospel. The first seems rather nondescript; the heavenly meaning is the kingdom of God. In the earthly story, someone plants some seeds, which proceed to grow. The planter follows the normal pattern of sleeping and waking. Meanwhile, “ the earth produces of itself,” although the planter doesn’t understand how. Finally, the grain ripens, and the planter takes a sickle to it. The meaning of this parable depends on what part stands out to you -- what you emphasize. What did you notice? The fact that the one who planted the seeds didn’t tend to them, but they grew anyway? The idea that the seeds depended on the earth for growth? Did the image of the sickle and the harvest bring judgement to your mind? There are a couple of dangers when analyzing parables. One is simply picking the first thing that comes to your mind and calling it truth. For example, we could say that this parable shows that the kingdom of God is like a seed because it comes without our help just like the seed becomes a plant without the help of the planter. While this might be true, it can’t be the whole truth. For one thing, that is a simple enough idea that it probably doesn’t need a whole parable. For another thing, someone did plant the seeds in the story and that same someone picked up the sickle at the end. The other danger is torturing the parable in an effort to eliminate any ambiguity. If the heavenly truth wasn’t ambiguous, the parable wouldn’t be needed.
The second parable is more familiar, probably because it is in all three of the synoptic gospels. Again, we begin with the sowing of seeds. This time, it is a mustard seed, which is referred to as “the smallest of all the seeds on earth.” In spite of the small seed, the result is “the greatest of all shrubs” which “puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade." Once again, your interpretation of the parable will depend on what you choose to emphasize. Of course, the most obvious lesson in this parable is that faith the size of a mustard seed can result in a kingdom that provides shelter for the birds of the air. A little background information is helpful for understanding this parable. First of all, mustard isn’t the kind of plant that most of Jesus’ listeners would have considered cultivating -- it falls more into the category of a useful weed. Secondly, it is likely that Jesus is exaggerating for effect when he calls mustard the “king of all shrubs.” It is very dense and reaches heights of 6-8 feet, but it is hardly majestic or comparable to the mighty cedars of Lebanon. Besides, king of shrubs seems like an oxymoron like jumbo shrimp. This additional information adds some possibilities for depth in our understanding of the parable. I can imagine a rich discussion of what it means to be a useful weed -- if those of us with fields, gardens, and yards can even get our heads around such a concept. The idea that the kingdom of God is being compared to a plant that is unimpressive, and even viewed as an invasive nuisance, provides more food for thought. Up to a point, the more time that we give this parable, the more that we can learn from it.
Reading the parables is a good reminder of the importance not only of reading the Bible, but of taking the time for thought and discussion. “In a time when faith sometimes gets equated with the certainty that ‘we’ know God and are right and ‘they’ do not know God and are wrong, we can explore the role of mystery in our discipleship. AMEN
There is a lot going on in today’s gospel reading: Jesus and the disciples return to Jesus’ home, followed by a crowd so dense that they don’t even have room to eat a meal. His family is trying to reach him because they are afraid that he has lost his mind. The scribes from Jerusalem -- 100 miles away -- are accusing Jesus of working for the king of demons. How could Jesus have possibly been prepared for the pressures of his ministry? In many ways, the manner in which this situation is handled seems disturbing.
Jesus easily dismisses the accusations of the scribes by pointing out the illogic of Satan working through him to fight Satan. The part that gets me is verse 27, “ But no one can enter a strong man's house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.” The way that I understand it, Satan is the strong man, the world is the house, and Jesus is the one who ties up the strong man and plunders the house. Aside from the image of Jesus as plunderer (which would make an interesting stained-glass window) this parable seems to set up a scenario where God and Satan are fighting it out on roughly even terms. Sure, Jesus is stronger and able to overcome the strong man, but the strong man is only bound -- temporarily disabled and likely to return more wary and angrier than ever. Looking at the headlines, it is tempting to view the world as the Devil’s playground, but I am uncomfortable with that. After all, we are created in God’s image, and all of creation belongs to God. As we were reminded in the first lesson, humanity got off to a rough start in the Garden as temptation met human nature to produce the Original Sin.
Maybe I’m overthinking this. Perhaps the strong man is our sinful nature, the house is our soul, and Jesus is the force that can tie up the strong man. Viewed this way, Jesus as plunderer is causing radical change in our lives. Sure, sin will find a way to get the upper hand again, but there is no threat there that God can’t handle. That leads us to another tripping point in this gospel: the idea of unforgivable sin. In verses 28-29, Jesus says, "Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin" Jesus is referring here to the scribes giving Satan credit for the work of the Holy Spirit. This passage has caused many believers to question their potential salvation; If there are some sins that even God won’t forgive, how can we feel secure? The best explanation that I found for what it means to blaspheme against the Holy Spirit is this: “What happens if when God forgives you, you turn away from him instead of cleaving to him and fearing him? If you turn away from God even when God forgives you, then there is nothing left that God can do for you, is there? The gift of God’s forgiveness is there for you. But if you won’t open to receive it, then even God can’t give it.”
This tells us that the stakes are high, and that our choices do have consequences. If we view forgiveness and salvation as gifts, then it makes sense that we can accept or refuse them. The gifts exist either way -- we don’t earn them or wish them into being. All that we need to do is to be open to the work of the Lord. AMEN
Jesus easily dismisses the accusations of the scribes by pointing out the illogic of Satan working through him to fight Satan. The part that gets me is verse 27, “ But no one can enter a strong man's house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.” The way that I understand it, Satan is the strong man, the world is the house, and Jesus is the one who ties up the strong man and plunders the house. Aside from the image of Jesus as plunderer (which would make an interesting stained-glass window) this parable seems to set up a scenario where God and Satan are fighting it out on roughly even terms. Sure, Jesus is stronger and able to overcome the strong man, but the strong man is only bound -- temporarily disabled and likely to return more wary and angrier than ever. Looking at the headlines, it is tempting to view the world as the Devil’s playground, but I am uncomfortable with that. After all, we are created in God’s image, and all of creation belongs to God. As we were reminded in the first lesson, humanity got off to a rough start in the Garden as temptation met human nature to produce the Original Sin.
Maybe I’m overthinking this. Perhaps the strong man is our sinful nature, the house is our soul, and Jesus is the force that can tie up the strong man. Viewed this way, Jesus as plunderer is causing radical change in our lives. Sure, sin will find a way to get the upper hand again, but there is no threat there that God can’t handle. That leads us to another tripping point in this gospel: the idea of unforgivable sin. In verses 28-29, Jesus says, "Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin" Jesus is referring here to the scribes giving Satan credit for the work of the Holy Spirit. This passage has caused many believers to question their potential salvation; If there are some sins that even God won’t forgive, how can we feel secure? The best explanation that I found for what it means to blaspheme against the Holy Spirit is this: “What happens if when God forgives you, you turn away from him instead of cleaving to him and fearing him? If you turn away from God even when God forgives you, then there is nothing left that God can do for you, is there? The gift of God’s forgiveness is there for you. But if you won’t open to receive it, then even God can’t give it.”
This tells us that the stakes are high, and that our choices do have consequences. If we view forgiveness and salvation as gifts, then it makes sense that we can accept or refuse them. The gifts exist either way -- we don’t earn them or wish them into being. All that we need to do is to be open to the work of the Lord. AMEN
To quote the warden from “Cool Hand Luke,” What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.” The Pharisees in the gospel reading seem to be following Jesus around Galilee in order to catch him doing something wrong. Jesus takes the dispute to the synagogue where he heals a man with a withered hand, seemingly in order to make a point. The reading ends with the Pharisees conspiring with the Herodians to destroy Jesus. The defining characteristics of this passage are the unwillingness of the group of Pharisees to listen to Jesus and the fact that this made Jesus angry.
So where do you see yourself in this story? I doubt that any of us want to identify ourselves as the hard-hearted Pharisees, but I have to admit that I resemble them in some ways. I have been involved in many conversations about the struggles of the church and society that have been legalistic. I have mourned the passing of the times when businesses simply weren’t open on Sundays. I have complained about the scheduling of sporting events on Sundays. I have spent a great deal of time in discussions lamenting the fact that young people today seem to lack a healthy respect for, or is it fear of, authority. It is absolutely true that I had no choice but to attend church almost every Sunday until I graduated from high school and that I was obedient in school mostly because I was afraid of getting in trouble at home. I am afraid that I live in a world more concerned with receiving than with giving, more interested in rights than responsibilities, and more focused on being loved than on loving. As a result, I worry about myself instead of others. Like the Pharisees in the gospel, I turn my insecurities into blame and accusations.
I don’t have the self-confidence to put myself in the role of Jesus, and the disciples don’t exactly have a track record of understanding what Jesus is teaching them, so I really only have one remaining option for putting myself in the story: the man with the withered hand. The uncomfortable part of choosing this role is that it forces me to let go of any illusions that I have of being in control. There is speculation that the man was brought to the synagogue by the Pharisees in order to test Jesus. It is also possible that he was there in hope that Jesus would heal him. Either way, he is not a main character, but a supporting one. His defining characteristic is his handicap. He has no lines, and all that is said to him is “come forward” and “stretch out your hand.” Although we hear no more of this man, we do know that his life has been changed through his encounter with Jesus. Think about that for a minute: the man is suffering, and he probably has no idea what to do about it. Jesus reaches out to him and he is healed. Could it be that he is our key to understanding what Jesus meant when he said, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath”?
The gospel reading makes it clear that Jesus believed that people were more important than ceremony. The way that the Pharisees behaved showed that they had completely lost sight of the connection between religion and humanity. Whether the man was brought to the synagogue or came on his own, the key to his healing was his encounter with Jesus. We know that Jesus performed countless other healings -- most of them outside of the church. Is it possible that observing the Sabbath is a matter of being open to the action of Christ in our lives… of being willing to be vulnerable... of being willing to stretch out our hands when we are asked to do so? I would like to think so. AMEN
So where do you see yourself in this story? I doubt that any of us want to identify ourselves as the hard-hearted Pharisees, but I have to admit that I resemble them in some ways. I have been involved in many conversations about the struggles of the church and society that have been legalistic. I have mourned the passing of the times when businesses simply weren’t open on Sundays. I have complained about the scheduling of sporting events on Sundays. I have spent a great deal of time in discussions lamenting the fact that young people today seem to lack a healthy respect for, or is it fear of, authority. It is absolutely true that I had no choice but to attend church almost every Sunday until I graduated from high school and that I was obedient in school mostly because I was afraid of getting in trouble at home. I am afraid that I live in a world more concerned with receiving than with giving, more interested in rights than responsibilities, and more focused on being loved than on loving. As a result, I worry about myself instead of others. Like the Pharisees in the gospel, I turn my insecurities into blame and accusations.
I don’t have the self-confidence to put myself in the role of Jesus, and the disciples don’t exactly have a track record of understanding what Jesus is teaching them, so I really only have one remaining option for putting myself in the story: the man with the withered hand. The uncomfortable part of choosing this role is that it forces me to let go of any illusions that I have of being in control. There is speculation that the man was brought to the synagogue by the Pharisees in order to test Jesus. It is also possible that he was there in hope that Jesus would heal him. Either way, he is not a main character, but a supporting one. His defining characteristic is his handicap. He has no lines, and all that is said to him is “come forward” and “stretch out your hand.” Although we hear no more of this man, we do know that his life has been changed through his encounter with Jesus. Think about that for a minute: the man is suffering, and he probably has no idea what to do about it. Jesus reaches out to him and he is healed. Could it be that he is our key to understanding what Jesus meant when he said, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath”?
The gospel reading makes it clear that Jesus believed that people were more important than ceremony. The way that the Pharisees behaved showed that they had completely lost sight of the connection between religion and humanity. Whether the man was brought to the synagogue or came on his own, the key to his healing was his encounter with Jesus. We know that Jesus performed countless other healings -- most of them outside of the church. Is it possible that observing the Sabbath is a matter of being open to the action of Christ in our lives… of being willing to be vulnerable... of being willing to stretch out our hands when we are asked to do so? I would like to think so. AMEN
At my ordination, Pastor Bill talked about me as being set apart for God. In tonights readings, we see two men who are set apart. Nicodemus is set apart because he is a Pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin, the highest governing body of the Jewish people. He is a “teacher of Israel.” Isaiah is set apart through a call from God, manifested through the visitation of the Seraphs. Isaiah responds,"Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.” Nicodemus’s response to the teachings of Jesus was, “How can these things be?” Isaiah’s problem is quickly solved: within two verses his lips are touched with a hot coal from the altar, removing his sin and guilt, the Lord calls him, and he responds, “Here am I, send me!”
While I can appreciate Isaiah’s vision and response, I can identify better with the struggles of Nicodemus. I wonder what Nicodemus expected when he went to meet Jesus. Some say that he went at night because he was afraid of being seen, while others say that the visit happened at night because it was the only time when he could be sure of having some uninterrupted time with Jesus. Whatever the case may be, the important thing is that he went. If he expected a simple, teacher-to-teacher talk, he was disappointed. Instead of answering his questions, Jesus ends up questioning his ability as a teacher, saying, “If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?” The whole interaction reminds me of being interviewed by a panel of seminary faculty as a part of the endorsement process. In spite of his years of study, Nicodemus is simply unable to grasp Jesus’ message -- and that is the point. Jesus tells Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."
Our gospel reading ends with the most famous verse in the Bible, John 3:16, “"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Well, it doesn’t quite end there -- verse 17 is included as well, "Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” During the faculty interview that I mentioned earlier, I was asked how I would explain these two verses to someone who was not a Christian. I don’t remember how I responded other than that I was told that I needed to at least try to say something of substance and asked if I could at least recite John 3:16. I don’t claim to be much smarter today, but if I was asked that question again, I think that I would use the passage from Romans as a part of my answer: “you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, "Abba! Father!" it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”
The distinction between earthly and heavenly things is not the same as the difference between good and evil. According to Barclay, “The spirit is the symbol of power. When Jesus takes possession of our lives it is not only that the past is forgotten and forgiven; if that were all, we might well proceed to make the same mess of life all over again; but into life there enters this new power which enables us to be what by ourselves we could never be, and to do what by ourselves we could never do.” As Paul says, the key to being children of God is to be led by the Spirit of God. Fortunately, that doesn’t include the ability to navigate. AMEN
While I can appreciate Isaiah’s vision and response, I can identify better with the struggles of Nicodemus. I wonder what Nicodemus expected when he went to meet Jesus. Some say that he went at night because he was afraid of being seen, while others say that the visit happened at night because it was the only time when he could be sure of having some uninterrupted time with Jesus. Whatever the case may be, the important thing is that he went. If he expected a simple, teacher-to-teacher talk, he was disappointed. Instead of answering his questions, Jesus ends up questioning his ability as a teacher, saying, “If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?” The whole interaction reminds me of being interviewed by a panel of seminary faculty as a part of the endorsement process. In spite of his years of study, Nicodemus is simply unable to grasp Jesus’ message -- and that is the point. Jesus tells Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."
Our gospel reading ends with the most famous verse in the Bible, John 3:16, “"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Well, it doesn’t quite end there -- verse 17 is included as well, "Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” During the faculty interview that I mentioned earlier, I was asked how I would explain these two verses to someone who was not a Christian. I don’t remember how I responded other than that I was told that I needed to at least try to say something of substance and asked if I could at least recite John 3:16. I don’t claim to be much smarter today, but if I was asked that question again, I think that I would use the passage from Romans as a part of my answer: “you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, "Abba! Father!" it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”
The distinction between earthly and heavenly things is not the same as the difference between good and evil. According to Barclay, “The spirit is the symbol of power. When Jesus takes possession of our lives it is not only that the past is forgotten and forgiven; if that were all, we might well proceed to make the same mess of life all over again; but into life there enters this new power which enables us to be what by ourselves we could never be, and to do what by ourselves we could never do.” As Paul says, the key to being children of God is to be led by the Spirit of God. Fortunately, that doesn’t include the ability to navigate. AMEN
It is fitting that we are honoring our graduating seniors on the Day of Pentecost. Pentecost is sometimes referred to as the birthday of the church or the baptism of the church. Most of all, it is a celebration of the unifying work of the Holy Spirit. Scripture begins with the spirit: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” In the reading from Ezekiel, God tells the people arisen from the dry bones, “I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken it and performed it.” The Spirit was the agent of creation and the Spirit was with God’s people on their Old Testament journey. How does the Spirit that we read about in the New Testament apply to you graduates here and now?
When the children come up front for the Children’s sermon, they are very willing to agree with me that God is with us here on Earth -- some of them actually think that I am either God or Jesus. I want you to know that the Holy Spirit is more than a simple reassurance that God is with us when we need Him. The Holy Spirit is both a gift and a responsibility. Jesus described the disciples as witnesses, and so are we.. According to J. Phillip Wogoman, “Although we have never seen Christ, the chronological chain of witnesses has been unbroken from the beginning. Each of us has received the story, not only from written Scripture but from the testimony of the generation preceding our own, which in turn received it from its preceding generation, and so on back to the beginning -- without a break. We are all links in a historical chain.”
What does it mean for you graduates, or for any of us, to be witnesses to Christ? First of all, to be a witness is to experience Christ in your daily life. A witness is someone who can say from personal experience, “This is true, and I KNOW it.” As you go out into the world, your faith will be challenged by both internal and external forces. You will meet people who tell you that faith is weakness and that people of faith are just too simple-minded to deal with the complexity of life. If you are thoughtful, you will also wonder how to maintain faith in the face of the horrendous mess in which humanity seems to have made of this world. It is easy to get caught up in the bad news with which we are surrounded. It is essential that you counter this with your belief in the good news that is Christ.
The second mark of a witness is authenticity. Throughout your lives, it is essential that you continue to examine your faith. I hope that you continue to attend church, but it is more important that you develop your personal relationship with Christ through prayer and reading scripture. Take advantage of opportunities to learn from those who think and believe differently than you do. Become the kind of person who speaks truth out of conviction.
The final mark of a witness is outward testimony. I am not suggesting that any of you become pastors or that you go around trying to persuade others to become Christians. Let the way that you live your life be your testimony. Remember that the greatest commandment is to love your neighbor, and live in response to the abiding love that you have received. AMEN
When the children come up front for the Children’s sermon, they are very willing to agree with me that God is with us here on Earth -- some of them actually think that I am either God or Jesus. I want you to know that the Holy Spirit is more than a simple reassurance that God is with us when we need Him. The Holy Spirit is both a gift and a responsibility. Jesus described the disciples as witnesses, and so are we.. According to J. Phillip Wogoman, “Although we have never seen Christ, the chronological chain of witnesses has been unbroken from the beginning. Each of us has received the story, not only from written Scripture but from the testimony of the generation preceding our own, which in turn received it from its preceding generation, and so on back to the beginning -- without a break. We are all links in a historical chain.”
What does it mean for you graduates, or for any of us, to be witnesses to Christ? First of all, to be a witness is to experience Christ in your daily life. A witness is someone who can say from personal experience, “This is true, and I KNOW it.” As you go out into the world, your faith will be challenged by both internal and external forces. You will meet people who tell you that faith is weakness and that people of faith are just too simple-minded to deal with the complexity of life. If you are thoughtful, you will also wonder how to maintain faith in the face of the horrendous mess in which humanity seems to have made of this world. It is easy to get caught up in the bad news with which we are surrounded. It is essential that you counter this with your belief in the good news that is Christ.
The second mark of a witness is authenticity. Throughout your lives, it is essential that you continue to examine your faith. I hope that you continue to attend church, but it is more important that you develop your personal relationship with Christ through prayer and reading scripture. Take advantage of opportunities to learn from those who think and believe differently than you do. Become the kind of person who speaks truth out of conviction.
The final mark of a witness is outward testimony. I am not suggesting that any of you become pastors or that you go around trying to persuade others to become Christians. Let the way that you live your life be your testimony. Remember that the greatest commandment is to love your neighbor, and live in response to the abiding love that you have received. AMEN
This is a busy and confusing time in many ways. My wife and I were shopping for mother’s day cards the other day, and I couldn’t figure out why she was buying so many. I finally asked, “How many mothers do we have?” She then pointed out that our daughter and one of our daughters in law also needed mother’s day cards this year. We celebrated a baptism at Baxter last week, it is confirmation Sunday at Saron today, my ordination is on Saturday, senior recognition day is next Sunday, my installation is on the 23rd, and, of course, today is mother’s day. Believe me, I am not bragging about how busy I am, but I am feeling some pressure right now. I am especially concerned that I have something significant to say at confirmation. I am a realist; I don’t expect anything that I say to instantly transform anyone’s life. What I am hoping for is to plant a seed that causes one of the confirmands to look back someday and remark, “hey, that guy who confirmed us actually made some good points.”
As you know, the process of writing a sermon begins with Tuesday morning text study. After the gospel reading for this week had been read aloud, there was total silence in the room until someone asked, “are any of you going to preach on this text?” One pastor replied that he was using the ascension texts, another that she had used the snow day in April as an opportunity to avoid this text, and another said that he was preaching from the narrative lectionary. When I said that I had confirmation, I got some consoling looks from the other pastors. John 17 wraps up the farewell discourse as Jesus prays for the disciples. Our discussion on Tuesday mostly focused on details of the text, and no larger message emerged. It just didn’t feel like a confirmation text.
The first lesson from Acts tells the story of how Matthias was chosen by casting lots to replace Judas. Again, it was difficult to imagine using this text for confirmation. Psalm one seemed to show some promise. It is a real pulpit-thumper that clearly lays out the difference between good and evil: “Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish.” Who would choose to be chaff when they could be a tree planted by a stream, right? Well, pulpit thumping isn’t really my style, so I needed to keep looking.
I have to admit that I didn’t have much hope by the time that I reached the second lesson, the ending of 1 John. How many more times would anyone be willing to listen to me talk about love or abiding or abiding in love? Almost immediately, this text smacked me (and the other pastors at text study) right in the face. “Those who believe in the Son of God have the testimony in their hearts. Those who do not believe in God have made him a liar by not believing in the testimony that God has given concerning his Son.” First of all, this goes beyond believing that the principles of the Bible are true: that we should treat others as we want to be treated and love our neighbors as ourselves. This text was not written to convert, it was written to those who already believed, and it called for a real commitment to belief. If we who have had the benefit of reading and hearing the scriptures do not believe in what God gave us through Jesus, we are calling God a liar. This leads us to the nugget of truth that I hope that the confirmands can carry with them throughout their lives: “Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.” Notice that we don’t know the Son, follow the Son, or listen to the Son -- we HAVE the Son. This may seem like a strange way to describe the relationship, but it is apt. “Jesus, we read elsewhere in the New Testament, “gave himself up” for us. And he also flat out gave himself for us. He laid down his life for us and gave us his whole being, his whole self. And so there is a sense in which when the gift of faith comes to us by grace alone, what we receive is nothing short of Christ and all his benefits. Christ clothed with the Gospel. We receive Jesus. We have the Son and all the eternal life within him because that is exactly what Jesus wants for us.” Whoever has the Son has life! AMEN
As you know, the process of writing a sermon begins with Tuesday morning text study. After the gospel reading for this week had been read aloud, there was total silence in the room until someone asked, “are any of you going to preach on this text?” One pastor replied that he was using the ascension texts, another that she had used the snow day in April as an opportunity to avoid this text, and another said that he was preaching from the narrative lectionary. When I said that I had confirmation, I got some consoling looks from the other pastors. John 17 wraps up the farewell discourse as Jesus prays for the disciples. Our discussion on Tuesday mostly focused on details of the text, and no larger message emerged. It just didn’t feel like a confirmation text.
The first lesson from Acts tells the story of how Matthias was chosen by casting lots to replace Judas. Again, it was difficult to imagine using this text for confirmation. Psalm one seemed to show some promise. It is a real pulpit-thumper that clearly lays out the difference between good and evil: “Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish.” Who would choose to be chaff when they could be a tree planted by a stream, right? Well, pulpit thumping isn’t really my style, so I needed to keep looking.
I have to admit that I didn’t have much hope by the time that I reached the second lesson, the ending of 1 John. How many more times would anyone be willing to listen to me talk about love or abiding or abiding in love? Almost immediately, this text smacked me (and the other pastors at text study) right in the face. “Those who believe in the Son of God have the testimony in their hearts. Those who do not believe in God have made him a liar by not believing in the testimony that God has given concerning his Son.” First of all, this goes beyond believing that the principles of the Bible are true: that we should treat others as we want to be treated and love our neighbors as ourselves. This text was not written to convert, it was written to those who already believed, and it called for a real commitment to belief. If we who have had the benefit of reading and hearing the scriptures do not believe in what God gave us through Jesus, we are calling God a liar. This leads us to the nugget of truth that I hope that the confirmands can carry with them throughout their lives: “Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.” Notice that we don’t know the Son, follow the Son, or listen to the Son -- we HAVE the Son. This may seem like a strange way to describe the relationship, but it is apt. “Jesus, we read elsewhere in the New Testament, “gave himself up” for us. And he also flat out gave himself for us. He laid down his life for us and gave us his whole being, his whole self. And so there is a sense in which when the gift of faith comes to us by grace alone, what we receive is nothing short of Christ and all his benefits. Christ clothed with the Gospel. We receive Jesus. We have the Son and all the eternal life within him because that is exactly what Jesus wants for us.” Whoever has the Son has life! AMEN
At first glance, it might seem like the metaphor of Jesus as the vine is passive and concerned mostly with the idea of connectedness. A little investigation reveals that the relationship between vine, vine grower, and branch is a depiction of an extremely active faith life. The basic, fundamental aspect of the relationship is the connection between branch and vine. In a vineyard, some branches grow naturally from the vine while others are grafted by the vine grower. Either way, the branches depend completely on the vine for their sustenance. The secret to a productive branch is its attachment to the vine, its relationship to Jesus and his community, a theme expressed by the idea of abiding, remaining, or residing. Clearly, we are to seek that kind of connection with Christ. This can be difficult in a world that is dominated by justification by calendar. Just think about how many of your conversations revolve around how busy you are. We act like being busy is something to brag about, but it results in more stress and pushes the branch that is us further from the vine that is Christ, producing plenty of foliage but not always a lot of fruit. Instead, we need to devote more time to worship and prayer so that we can discover God’s will and bear more fruit. I believe that our connection to the vine, the abiding, goes both ways; Christ has promised to abide in us, but we have some responsibility for abiding in Him.
The best part about this metaphor is that it goes even deeper than the ideas of being connected vs. being disconnected and bearing fruit vs being barren. Bearing fruit is not, after all, an act of will by the vine. It takes the knowledge and actions of the vine grower to maximize fruit production by pruning so that the energy of the plant is directed toward bearing fruit instead of producing extra vines and leaves. To the untrained eye, the work of the vine grower probably looks excessive, especially if the vine was capable of producing some fruit without being pruned. There are also external factors like pests, disease, and weather that influence the productivity of the vine. We certainly experience times in our lives when it seems impossible that we would ever be fruitful. We doubt ourselves, we suffer a major setback, our faith is tested; it becomes hard to believe that God abides in us or that we are worthy to abide in God. On the other hand, it is sometimes easy to convince ourselves that we are bearing enough fruit, and it is difficult to admit that there are areas of our lives that need to be trimmed back. Think for a minute about what it means to bear fruit. Are you listing good deeds? Relationships? If you are like me, the fruit-bearing is sporadic. There are times when I could probably just as well be chopped off and thrown into the fire, and times when I seem to be doing pretty well. There are also some persistent examples of unproductive growth that should be trimmed away.
The image of Christ as the vine makes us think about what we can do to improve our faith lives, but focusing there simply isn’t enough. Just like I know that I should spend less money than I make and consume fewer calories than I burn, I have a basic awareness of what God expects of me. For the same reasons that I am broke and out of shape, I have miles to go before I bear fruit suitable to glorify God. John leaves no doubt of the results of trying to be fruitful without God, saying “apart from me you can do nothing.” There is also no doubt about what happens when we abide in God: “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Like the vine and the branches, our wishes will be indistinguishable from those of God. Our eternal lives in his presence will have begun. AMEN
The best part about this metaphor is that it goes even deeper than the ideas of being connected vs. being disconnected and bearing fruit vs being barren. Bearing fruit is not, after all, an act of will by the vine. It takes the knowledge and actions of the vine grower to maximize fruit production by pruning so that the energy of the plant is directed toward bearing fruit instead of producing extra vines and leaves. To the untrained eye, the work of the vine grower probably looks excessive, especially if the vine was capable of producing some fruit without being pruned. There are also external factors like pests, disease, and weather that influence the productivity of the vine. We certainly experience times in our lives when it seems impossible that we would ever be fruitful. We doubt ourselves, we suffer a major setback, our faith is tested; it becomes hard to believe that God abides in us or that we are worthy to abide in God. On the other hand, it is sometimes easy to convince ourselves that we are bearing enough fruit, and it is difficult to admit that there are areas of our lives that need to be trimmed back. Think for a minute about what it means to bear fruit. Are you listing good deeds? Relationships? If you are like me, the fruit-bearing is sporadic. There are times when I could probably just as well be chopped off and thrown into the fire, and times when I seem to be doing pretty well. There are also some persistent examples of unproductive growth that should be trimmed away.
The image of Christ as the vine makes us think about what we can do to improve our faith lives, but focusing there simply isn’t enough. Just like I know that I should spend less money than I make and consume fewer calories than I burn, I have a basic awareness of what God expects of me. For the same reasons that I am broke and out of shape, I have miles to go before I bear fruit suitable to glorify God. John leaves no doubt of the results of trying to be fruitful without God, saying “apart from me you can do nothing.” There is also no doubt about what happens when we abide in God: “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Like the vine and the branches, our wishes will be indistinguishable from those of God. Our eternal lives in his presence will have begun. AMEN
There is a serious problem with the image of God as the good shepherd -- it makes us sheep. While sheep are a useful animal for both food and fiber, they are not exactly noble or well-respected. Sheep are not known for their intelligence or leadership abilities. To be called a sheep is to be told that you are incapable of thinking for yourself. We might even get “fleeced” by someone more intelligent. Sure, we get the benefit of the protection of the shepherd, but what kind of life is the life of a sheep? Where are the rewards? The first sin was caused by the desire to be like God, knowing good and evil, but the sheep cannot become the shepherd -- that just isn’t how it works.
How, then, does the metaphor of God as shepherd help us understand our place in God’s creation? Psalm 23’s green pastures and still waters show the relationship between man and nature as mutually beneficial. We see God protecting us even in the valley of the shadow of death. God provides for us so abundantly that our cup runs over. The gospel reading tells us that Jesus is willing to lay down his life for us. There is no question that we live in a world where protection is often welcomed and needed, but what does a sheep have to bring to the table?
The reading from 1 John gives us the answer to that question, building off of both the gospel reading and the psalm. It begins, “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” Although we cannot become shepherds, we can follow the example of the shepherd by loving one another. Now, the word love has been abused almost to the point of uselessness. In a way, it is just as mysterious and elusive as the idea of God. It is one thing for Jesus to give his life -- he can take it up again. What about us?
The key to understanding comes from the last line of Psalm 23:
“ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.” How do we get there? We get there by knowing and responding to God’s voice. When John talks about being condemned by our hearts, he is talking about a failure to listen to God. We can trust God to see the good in us even when we can’t see it ourselves. John also says, “let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him.” The result of acting and living in love is that we abide with God and God abides with us. Instead of viewing life as an audition for heaven, which means that we need to know the rules so that we can follow them, we are invited to begin our eternal life with Christ now, today.
What does it mean to be a sheep of the flock of the good shepherd? It means that God knows us, provides for us, and wants the best for us. It means that we are free to look for fulfillment within the community instead of struggling to fill our lives with our own accomplishments. It means listening instead of talking -- trusting instead of doubting. In many ways, this is counter to the messages that the world sends us, but if we truly believe that the Spirit abides with us, what do we have to fear? AMEN
How, then, does the metaphor of God as shepherd help us understand our place in God’s creation? Psalm 23’s green pastures and still waters show the relationship between man and nature as mutually beneficial. We see God protecting us even in the valley of the shadow of death. God provides for us so abundantly that our cup runs over. The gospel reading tells us that Jesus is willing to lay down his life for us. There is no question that we live in a world where protection is often welcomed and needed, but what does a sheep have to bring to the table?
The reading from 1 John gives us the answer to that question, building off of both the gospel reading and the psalm. It begins, “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” Although we cannot become shepherds, we can follow the example of the shepherd by loving one another. Now, the word love has been abused almost to the point of uselessness. In a way, it is just as mysterious and elusive as the idea of God. It is one thing for Jesus to give his life -- he can take it up again. What about us?
The key to understanding comes from the last line of Psalm 23:
“ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.” How do we get there? We get there by knowing and responding to God’s voice. When John talks about being condemned by our hearts, he is talking about a failure to listen to God. We can trust God to see the good in us even when we can’t see it ourselves. John also says, “let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him.” The result of acting and living in love is that we abide with God and God abides with us. Instead of viewing life as an audition for heaven, which means that we need to know the rules so that we can follow them, we are invited to begin our eternal life with Christ now, today.
What does it mean to be a sheep of the flock of the good shepherd? It means that God knows us, provides for us, and wants the best for us. It means that we are free to look for fulfillment within the community instead of struggling to fill our lives with our own accomplishments. It means listening instead of talking -- trusting instead of doubting. In many ways, this is counter to the messages that the world sends us, but if we truly believe that the Spirit abides with us, what do we have to fear? AMEN
They say that seeing is believing, but sometimes that can be reversed. Let me give you an example: Last week, New York City police officers responded to three 911 calls about a man threatening people with a gun. When they arrived, the man pointed a shiny, metallic object at them in what was described as a “two-handed shooter’s stance.” The five police officers who responded shot the man nine times, killing him. It turned out that the object was not a gun, but a piece of pipe. Complicating the matter are the facts that the man was bipolar and black. It is not my intention to get political, but this is a vivid example of the kind of situation where preconceptions will make it impossible for people to ever agree on what happened and why.
Family members and people from the neighborhood viewed the man as a harmless eccentric who was incapable of hurting anyone. They cannot understand how anyone could see the man as a threat, and they wonder why the police didn’t spend more time assessing the situation before they opened fire. The officers who responded were not given any background information on past interactions with the man or told that he was mentally ill. They were told that he had a gun, he was pointing something metal at them as if it was a gun, so they responded as if it was a gun. Finally, there are many people who feel that the fact that the man was black is the only truly relevant detail. They see the shooting as another example of police violence toward people of color. Depending on your perspective, this is the story of the tragic consequences of untreated mental illness, a cautionary tale about how difficult it is to be a policeman, or evidence of the disregard for black lives by law enforcement. No matter how much time is spent examining and discussing this tragedy, it is difficult to imagine people moving from one point of view to another.
There is an old saying that goes: “Without faith, no evidence is sufficient; with faith, no evidence is necessary.” As the situation above shows, this can be a slippery slope that keeps our minds closed as we adjust the facts to fit our beliefs. It also seems too cut-and-dried to be really useful. At confirmation this week, I began by asking the students, “How would you answer someone who asked you why you believe in God?” Their answers included that we have grown up believing, that we continue to learn about God, that the world had to have come from somewhere, and that we just do. As we imagined how someone would respond to our answers, it became clear that it is virtually impossible to “prove” that God exists, especially to someone who is convinced that He doesn’t. The next question was, “Can you think of a time when you found it hard to believe that God existed?” Answers to this included: in science class, when some parts of the Bible don’t seem to make sense, when someone close to us dies, and when tragedies happen (school shootings were mentioned several times). This question seemed to be much easier for the kids to answer. I would guess that we have all had our moments of doubt -- moments when we have longed for evidence of God.
If we can doubt with all of our advantages: the Bible and the history of Christianity, to name a couple, how can we possibly blame the disciples for having their doubts? Jesus told the first disciples to “come and see.” He responded to the Samaritan woman’s “Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” and Nicodemus’ “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” with patient teaching. When Mary mistakes him for the gardener at the tomb, he is not angry or offended. Throughout his ministry, Jesus used doubt to build faith, and that is what he does when he enters the locked room in today’s gospel. It is not just Thomas who needs to be convinced that Jesus has been raised from the dead; Jesus shows his hands and his side to all of the disciples before he breathes the spirit into them, giving them new lives. Even the disciples have to make the leap of faith when they saw him. This is what makes it possible for us to make the same leap. AMEN
Family members and people from the neighborhood viewed the man as a harmless eccentric who was incapable of hurting anyone. They cannot understand how anyone could see the man as a threat, and they wonder why the police didn’t spend more time assessing the situation before they opened fire. The officers who responded were not given any background information on past interactions with the man or told that he was mentally ill. They were told that he had a gun, he was pointing something metal at them as if it was a gun, so they responded as if it was a gun. Finally, there are many people who feel that the fact that the man was black is the only truly relevant detail. They see the shooting as another example of police violence toward people of color. Depending on your perspective, this is the story of the tragic consequences of untreated mental illness, a cautionary tale about how difficult it is to be a policeman, or evidence of the disregard for black lives by law enforcement. No matter how much time is spent examining and discussing this tragedy, it is difficult to imagine people moving from one point of view to another.
There is an old saying that goes: “Without faith, no evidence is sufficient; with faith, no evidence is necessary.” As the situation above shows, this can be a slippery slope that keeps our minds closed as we adjust the facts to fit our beliefs. It also seems too cut-and-dried to be really useful. At confirmation this week, I began by asking the students, “How would you answer someone who asked you why you believe in God?” Their answers included that we have grown up believing, that we continue to learn about God, that the world had to have come from somewhere, and that we just do. As we imagined how someone would respond to our answers, it became clear that it is virtually impossible to “prove” that God exists, especially to someone who is convinced that He doesn’t. The next question was, “Can you think of a time when you found it hard to believe that God existed?” Answers to this included: in science class, when some parts of the Bible don’t seem to make sense, when someone close to us dies, and when tragedies happen (school shootings were mentioned several times). This question seemed to be much easier for the kids to answer. I would guess that we have all had our moments of doubt -- moments when we have longed for evidence of God.
If we can doubt with all of our advantages: the Bible and the history of Christianity, to name a couple, how can we possibly blame the disciples for having their doubts? Jesus told the first disciples to “come and see.” He responded to the Samaritan woman’s “Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” and Nicodemus’ “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” with patient teaching. When Mary mistakes him for the gardener at the tomb, he is not angry or offended. Throughout his ministry, Jesus used doubt to build faith, and that is what he does when he enters the locked room in today’s gospel. It is not just Thomas who needs to be convinced that Jesus has been raised from the dead; Jesus shows his hands and his side to all of the disciples before he breathes the spirit into them, giving them new lives. Even the disciples have to make the leap of faith when they saw him. This is what makes it possible for us to make the same leap. AMEN
Mark’s account of the resurrection is distinguished by amazement, fear, and astonishment. Even though Jesus had told them that he would be raised on the third day, his followers proceeded as if this was not so. The disciples were locked in a room in fear, and the women who went to the tomb were prepared to find Jesus’ body there. Instead, they find the stone rolled away and an angelic messenger tells them “Tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee, there you will see him, as he told you.” Our reading, and the original text of the book of Mark, end with, “they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” That is it -- no appearances of the risen Christ are reported by Mark. In the reading from 1 Corinthians, Paul reports that Jesus appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve, then more than 500 brothers and sisters at one time, then James, then all the apostles, and then Paul. The reading from Acts tells us that Jesus appeared, “not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.” Regardless of how many appearances Jesus made between the resurrection and the ascension, we believe that the resurrection happened -- that is why we are here today.
The reading from Acts gives us a glimpse into how the first Christians told the story of Jesus. We sometimes divide the work of God according to the old and new testaments. In the beginning, there was an angry God who was constantly being disappointed by humans. The relationship between God and man was a constant cycle of forgiveness, disobedience, and punishment. We treat Jesus almost as if he was the child who came along and saved a marriage. The truth is that God sent his son, the word incarnate, because he loved us. God has always been faithful to his people and Jesus is a result of that, not the cause. Speaking of his people, that is another area that the early Christians needed to deal with. In the Old Testament, God is portrayed as a representative of Israel against the Gods of other nations. Of course, there are countless stories in the old testament of God’s people turning against him and of people of other lands turning to God. Jesus was sent with the message that “in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.”
The next section of the reading from Acts tells us that Jesus, “went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil.” It sounds kind of random when you put it that way, doesn’t it. The message is that Jesus was here for us. His main concern was to rid the world of pain and sorrow. This description also reminds us what government and religious officials found so disturbing about Jesus. How bad did it make them look to have someone who cared about everyone and who had the power to help them on the loose? As a result, they put him to death in one of the most public and painful ways possible. The fact that this is only given one sentence speaks volumes about the power of God vs. the power of man, as God raised him on the third day.
This brings us back to the idea of Jesus appearing after the resurrection. Again, Acts states that Jesus appeared “not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.” I believe that this list includes all of us here today who will soon be partaking in the Lord’s Supper. If we believe that God shows no partiality and that Jesus was sent for all mankind, that means that we have been chosen by God as witnesses. This means that the next lines apply to us as well. It is our responsibility to extend God’s invitation to others so that they too can receive the gift of Christ which is forgiveness of sin and a new relationship with God.
It is easy to identify with the women on the way to the tomb on Easter morning. Their sorrow, their concern over how they will move the stone, and their sense of responsibility overwhelm their faith and keep them from living in hope. The good news, when it comes, is too much for them to handle. Perhaps they are afraid that they will not believe, or maybe they fear that saying it out loud will break the spell. Although Mark doesn’t say so, I’m sure that they did eventually share the good news because Jesus had told the disciples that he would return. My faith is not built on that belief. Instead, I believe because God has invited me to believe through the scriptures, through my baptism, and through the witness of others. Most of all, God has invited me to believe through the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus. He is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Aleluia!
The reading from Acts gives us a glimpse into how the first Christians told the story of Jesus. We sometimes divide the work of God according to the old and new testaments. In the beginning, there was an angry God who was constantly being disappointed by humans. The relationship between God and man was a constant cycle of forgiveness, disobedience, and punishment. We treat Jesus almost as if he was the child who came along and saved a marriage. The truth is that God sent his son, the word incarnate, because he loved us. God has always been faithful to his people and Jesus is a result of that, not the cause. Speaking of his people, that is another area that the early Christians needed to deal with. In the Old Testament, God is portrayed as a representative of Israel against the Gods of other nations. Of course, there are countless stories in the old testament of God’s people turning against him and of people of other lands turning to God. Jesus was sent with the message that “in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.”
The next section of the reading from Acts tells us that Jesus, “went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil.” It sounds kind of random when you put it that way, doesn’t it. The message is that Jesus was here for us. His main concern was to rid the world of pain and sorrow. This description also reminds us what government and religious officials found so disturbing about Jesus. How bad did it make them look to have someone who cared about everyone and who had the power to help them on the loose? As a result, they put him to death in one of the most public and painful ways possible. The fact that this is only given one sentence speaks volumes about the power of God vs. the power of man, as God raised him on the third day.
This brings us back to the idea of Jesus appearing after the resurrection. Again, Acts states that Jesus appeared “not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.” I believe that this list includes all of us here today who will soon be partaking in the Lord’s Supper. If we believe that God shows no partiality and that Jesus was sent for all mankind, that means that we have been chosen by God as witnesses. This means that the next lines apply to us as well. It is our responsibility to extend God’s invitation to others so that they too can receive the gift of Christ which is forgiveness of sin and a new relationship with God.
It is easy to identify with the women on the way to the tomb on Easter morning. Their sorrow, their concern over how they will move the stone, and their sense of responsibility overwhelm their faith and keep them from living in hope. The good news, when it comes, is too much for them to handle. Perhaps they are afraid that they will not believe, or maybe they fear that saying it out loud will break the spell. Although Mark doesn’t say so, I’m sure that they did eventually share the good news because Jesus had told the disciples that he would return. My faith is not built on that belief. Instead, I believe because God has invited me to believe through the scriptures, through my baptism, and through the witness of others. Most of all, God has invited me to believe through the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus. He is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Aleluia!
The Triumphal Procession to Jerusalem isn’t an isolated incident, but the end of a long journey. Jesus and the disciples are not lone travelers, but part of throngs of pilgrims headed to Jerusalem for the passover. Today’s gospel reading begins as the journey is reaching its end; the Mount of Olives is the last obstacle before the city is reached. Imagine what it would have felt like to have been on the road, only a few miles from your destination -- the excitement that comes at the end of a long trip. Imagine how much that excitement would increase when you recognized that one of your fellow travelers was Jesus, the teacher who had spent the past three years performing miracles and healing, the man who many said was the Son of God sent to restore the Jews to their previous glory. Anyone who overheard Jesus’ instructions to his disciples regarding the colt would have raced to share the news -- the words of the prophets were coming to fruition. Just as Zephaniah said,
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on an ass,
on a colt the foal of an ass.”
Those on the road with Jesus felt that they were present for the making of history. They would be entering Jerusalem with the King of the Jews. Once the colt arrived, the travelers gave Jesus their version of the red carpet treatment by spreading their cloaks and branches that they cut from the fields on the road in front of him. The crowd must have grown as the people began to chant “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is coming! Hosanna in the highest!”
Those who saw the procession approaching the gates of Jerusalem must have been puzzled. Why was this group of pilgrims chanting and covering the road and who was this man riding on a colt without so much as a saddle? Was this supposed to be a mockery of the arrival of someone important? The whole process must have made the disciples nervous. They knew that the religious officials in Jerusalem were growing increasingly angry about the effect that Jesus was having on the people, and they must have wondered why Jesus was allowing the crowd to make such a spectacle of him. It just wasn’t like Jesus to be the center of attention like this, and Jesus had told them that he would be handed over and killed in Jerusalem. Why would he tempt fate like this?
It seems that the procession broke up when the gates of Jerusalem were reached. One of the most noteworthy parts of Mark’s description is Jesus’ silence. Were those who had chanted their way into town expecting more, or was it just time to head for their final destinations? Is it possible that the uneventful end of the procession was the beginning of the disillusionment of the crowd, many of whom were probably in the group that later screamed, “crucify him” instead of “Hosanna?” As for Jesus and the disciples, they simply looked around the temple and returned to Bethany. While they may have been relieved not to have been met by resistance, the disciples must have known that the other shoe was about to drop and that the return to Bethany was only a temporary break in the action.
Why did Jesus and the disciples return to Bethany? As a matter of fact, the gospel reading begins and ends in Bethany. We know that Bethany was the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, probably the closest friends of Jesus. It was at the home of Simon in Bethany where the woman poured perfume on Jesus, which he said was a preparation for his burial. Bethany will also be the site of Jesus’ ascension. In many ways, Bethany seems to stand as an opposite to Jerusalem -- a place of spiritual goodness centered on loving the neighbor, a place where faith is not a matter of following the laws of organized religion so much as following one’s heart. The simple people of Bethany, along with the group of pilgrims who processed into Jerusalem with Jesus stand in stark contrast to the attitude of the religious officials who view Jesus only as a threat to their authority. As we move into Holy Week, we should strive for the simple faith of the friends of Jesus. AMEN
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on an ass,
on a colt the foal of an ass.”
Those on the road with Jesus felt that they were present for the making of history. They would be entering Jerusalem with the King of the Jews. Once the colt arrived, the travelers gave Jesus their version of the red carpet treatment by spreading their cloaks and branches that they cut from the fields on the road in front of him. The crowd must have grown as the people began to chant “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is coming! Hosanna in the highest!”
Those who saw the procession approaching the gates of Jerusalem must have been puzzled. Why was this group of pilgrims chanting and covering the road and who was this man riding on a colt without so much as a saddle? Was this supposed to be a mockery of the arrival of someone important? The whole process must have made the disciples nervous. They knew that the religious officials in Jerusalem were growing increasingly angry about the effect that Jesus was having on the people, and they must have wondered why Jesus was allowing the crowd to make such a spectacle of him. It just wasn’t like Jesus to be the center of attention like this, and Jesus had told them that he would be handed over and killed in Jerusalem. Why would he tempt fate like this?
It seems that the procession broke up when the gates of Jerusalem were reached. One of the most noteworthy parts of Mark’s description is Jesus’ silence. Were those who had chanted their way into town expecting more, or was it just time to head for their final destinations? Is it possible that the uneventful end of the procession was the beginning of the disillusionment of the crowd, many of whom were probably in the group that later screamed, “crucify him” instead of “Hosanna?” As for Jesus and the disciples, they simply looked around the temple and returned to Bethany. While they may have been relieved not to have been met by resistance, the disciples must have known that the other shoe was about to drop and that the return to Bethany was only a temporary break in the action.
Why did Jesus and the disciples return to Bethany? As a matter of fact, the gospel reading begins and ends in Bethany. We know that Bethany was the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, probably the closest friends of Jesus. It was at the home of Simon in Bethany where the woman poured perfume on Jesus, which he said was a preparation for his burial. Bethany will also be the site of Jesus’ ascension. In many ways, Bethany seems to stand as an opposite to Jerusalem -- a place of spiritual goodness centered on loving the neighbor, a place where faith is not a matter of following the laws of organized religion so much as following one’s heart. The simple people of Bethany, along with the group of pilgrims who processed into Jerusalem with Jesus stand in stark contrast to the attitude of the religious officials who view Jesus only as a threat to their authority. As we move into Holy Week, we should strive for the simple faith of the friends of Jesus. AMEN
In the book of John, the resurrection of Lazarus is the last straw for Jesus’ enemies. Even though he knows this, Jesus willingly travels to Jerusalem to meet his fate. At this point, there are still many people who have heard of Jesus and want to get a closer look at him. The excitement is building as more and more people begin to understand that there is something special about Jesus, although they don’t know what to make of him. Imagine how Jesus’ listeners must have reacted when he said, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” The Jews have been waiting for the Son of Man to come and lead them to victory over their enemies, and Jesus has just told them that it is time! Their excitement was short-lived, however, as Jesus began to make it clear that glory has more than one meaning.
John does not include Jesus asking the cup to be taken from him in the garden. “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say--"Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.” is as close as it gets. John’s Jesus understands that his life is not his own, and he tries to explain that those who follow him are putting themselves in the same situation. He begins by comparing himself to a seed. Spending a winter day with the Gurney’s catalog can be a great way to fight cabin fever, but we can’t fall in love with the potential of seeds unless we are willing to put them in the cold, spring ground. Jesus is asking us to look at our lives in the same way -- we are to live in a way that increases our potential, not to dwell on how wonderful that potential might make us feel. At harvest, the best crops are kept back for seed.
I don’t know about you, but there have been times when I have loved my life and times when I have hated it. It only seems logical that we would work toward spending more time loving our lives than hating them, but Jesus says, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” Does this mean that only those whose lives are bad are going to Heaven? We make a big deal about the kind of people that Jesus spent his time with: the poor, the sick, and those rejected by society. Are our chances at eternal life based on whether or not we fit in during this life? That just doesn’t sound right to me. I understand being rewarded for struggles, but are those who succeed destined for punishment? I believe that the key to this verse is the word “their.” Those who love their lives to the point that they don’t care about others or whose happiness comes at the extent of others are in for a rude surprise in the next life while those who put the needs of others first will be rewarded. The next section, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.” makes me wonder a bit about the reward. Sure, we will be with God, but we will be there as servants. Isn’t that aiming kind of low? Shouldn’t we, like the disciples, want to be seated at the table with the father and not working in the kitchen? Jesus clears that up with the next verse,which is where we started, “"Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say--"Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.”
Glory belongs to God, not to us. The remarkable thing about Jesus is that he stayed true to his purpose throughout his life, in spite of the fact that he had every opportunity to be sidetracked by pride and selfishness. Our purpose is the same as Jesus’ -- we are to live in service to God.
John does not include Jesus asking the cup to be taken from him in the garden. “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say--"Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.” is as close as it gets. John’s Jesus understands that his life is not his own, and he tries to explain that those who follow him are putting themselves in the same situation. He begins by comparing himself to a seed. Spending a winter day with the Gurney’s catalog can be a great way to fight cabin fever, but we can’t fall in love with the potential of seeds unless we are willing to put them in the cold, spring ground. Jesus is asking us to look at our lives in the same way -- we are to live in a way that increases our potential, not to dwell on how wonderful that potential might make us feel. At harvest, the best crops are kept back for seed.
I don’t know about you, but there have been times when I have loved my life and times when I have hated it. It only seems logical that we would work toward spending more time loving our lives than hating them, but Jesus says, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” Does this mean that only those whose lives are bad are going to Heaven? We make a big deal about the kind of people that Jesus spent his time with: the poor, the sick, and those rejected by society. Are our chances at eternal life based on whether or not we fit in during this life? That just doesn’t sound right to me. I understand being rewarded for struggles, but are those who succeed destined for punishment? I believe that the key to this verse is the word “their.” Those who love their lives to the point that they don’t care about others or whose happiness comes at the extent of others are in for a rude surprise in the next life while those who put the needs of others first will be rewarded. The next section, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.” makes me wonder a bit about the reward. Sure, we will be with God, but we will be there as servants. Isn’t that aiming kind of low? Shouldn’t we, like the disciples, want to be seated at the table with the father and not working in the kitchen? Jesus clears that up with the next verse,which is where we started, “"Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say--"Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.”
Glory belongs to God, not to us. The remarkable thing about Jesus is that he stayed true to his purpose throughout his life, in spite of the fact that he had every opportunity to be sidetracked by pride and selfishness. Our purpose is the same as Jesus’ -- we are to live in service to God.
The story of the Bible is one of God deciding how to deal with the sinful nature of man. Time and time again, God’s chosen people let God down. The first lesson for this week is a typical interaction between the people, Moses, and God. The people, not some of the people, a few of the people, or most of the people, are impatient and whiney. God decides that the people are more trouble than they are worth and sends poisonous snakes among them. The people ask Moses to intercede, and he does. The resolution, however, is a bit unusual: God has Moses make a serpent of bronze and mounts it on a pole. Whenever someone is bitten, they look at the bronze serpent and live. At the beginning of our gospel reading, Jesus uses this story in his attempt to explain eternal life to Nicodemus. This makes it worthwhile to look at the story from Numbers more carefully.
As I already mentioned, the serpents were placed among all of the people because all of the people were sinful. There is no attempt to differentiate between the amount or type of sinfulness either. The people complained that they had been brought out into the wilderness to die, and the consequence was, appropriately, death by snakebite. I guess that the people deserve some credit for realizing that they needed Moses’ help if any of them were to survive. Knowing the reaction that God had to the golden calf, it must have seemed odd to Moses to be making a bronze serpent instead of using his staff to drive out the snakes. Wouldn’t it confuse the people who had been warned about idolatry? It seems likely that some of the people would have seen the bronze serpent as responsible for their healing instead of giving thanks to God. It also seems risky to use the serpent, the original accomplice to human sinfulness, as a sign of healing. There is only one way that this story makes sense to me: in order to overcome the consequences of sin, one must confront sin. This is where I believe that the two stories come together.
Nicodemus would have been very comfortable with the story of the Israelites their interactions with God. As a Jewish religious official, Nicodemus would have been focused on understanding how to live a life free of sin in order to please God. Jesus’ ideas must have seemed frighteningly radical because they were focused on spirituality and eternity. Jesus tells Nicodemus that, “just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” This goes far beyond mere physical healing and opens up worlds that are far beyond the human mind. The Israelites acknowledged their sin and were allowed to live (although they continued to be bitten by serpents). Jesus is offering the possibility of a new kind of relationship with God, but it is not based on simply determining who is doing the best job of following the rules. In fact, Jesus says, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” It is ironic,then, that John 3:16 is often used to condemn those of other faiths.
It doesn’t take much for us to believe that Jesus existed and that he was the son of God, but Jesus is asking for more. Jesus says, “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.” To “believe” this Good News in a way that brings salvation requires more than “believing that;” it requires “trusting in.” To “trust in” Jesus is not simply to believe something about what happened long ago, but also to let our own lives be transformed by the Jesus we encounter in this story. As the author of Ephesians said, “For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”
Like the people in the story in Numbers, we have already been bitten or are in imminent danger of being bitten. Death is inevitable. When the bronze serpent is brought into the world, we look and live, or we do not. As Jesus comes into the world, we trust that which bears God's gracious love, or we do not. We receive eternal life or we continue to live apart from God, condemned. If we want to please God, we simply need to accept God’s invitation and step into the light. Of course, this will reveal some things that we would rather keep to ourselves, but that is the path to forgiveness. It is not about being less sinful or more religious than others -- it is about trusting God to keep his promises. AMEN
As I already mentioned, the serpents were placed among all of the people because all of the people were sinful. There is no attempt to differentiate between the amount or type of sinfulness either. The people complained that they had been brought out into the wilderness to die, and the consequence was, appropriately, death by snakebite. I guess that the people deserve some credit for realizing that they needed Moses’ help if any of them were to survive. Knowing the reaction that God had to the golden calf, it must have seemed odd to Moses to be making a bronze serpent instead of using his staff to drive out the snakes. Wouldn’t it confuse the people who had been warned about idolatry? It seems likely that some of the people would have seen the bronze serpent as responsible for their healing instead of giving thanks to God. It also seems risky to use the serpent, the original accomplice to human sinfulness, as a sign of healing. There is only one way that this story makes sense to me: in order to overcome the consequences of sin, one must confront sin. This is where I believe that the two stories come together.
Nicodemus would have been very comfortable with the story of the Israelites their interactions with God. As a Jewish religious official, Nicodemus would have been focused on understanding how to live a life free of sin in order to please God. Jesus’ ideas must have seemed frighteningly radical because they were focused on spirituality and eternity. Jesus tells Nicodemus that, “just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” This goes far beyond mere physical healing and opens up worlds that are far beyond the human mind. The Israelites acknowledged their sin and were allowed to live (although they continued to be bitten by serpents). Jesus is offering the possibility of a new kind of relationship with God, but it is not based on simply determining who is doing the best job of following the rules. In fact, Jesus says, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” It is ironic,then, that John 3:16 is often used to condemn those of other faiths.
It doesn’t take much for us to believe that Jesus existed and that he was the son of God, but Jesus is asking for more. Jesus says, “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.” To “believe” this Good News in a way that brings salvation requires more than “believing that;” it requires “trusting in.” To “trust in” Jesus is not simply to believe something about what happened long ago, but also to let our own lives be transformed by the Jesus we encounter in this story. As the author of Ephesians said, “For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”
Like the people in the story in Numbers, we have already been bitten or are in imminent danger of being bitten. Death is inevitable. When the bronze serpent is brought into the world, we look and live, or we do not. As Jesus comes into the world, we trust that which bears God's gracious love, or we do not. We receive eternal life or we continue to live apart from God, condemned. If we want to please God, we simply need to accept God’s invitation and step into the light. Of course, this will reveal some things that we would rather keep to ourselves, but that is the path to forgiveness. It is not about being less sinful or more religious than others -- it is about trusting God to keep his promises. AMEN
Aristotle once said, “Nature abhors a vacuum,” meaning that empty or unfilled spaces are unnatural. Wherever there is a void, the universe seeks to fill it. An easy way for me to envision this concept is to try to picture an empty outbuilding -- I can’t do it. Just as the empty spaces in nature are filled by water or air or some other gas, and my sheds fill up with things that my kids don’t need in their homes, auction finds, salvage lumber, and other essentials, our hearts and lives are also filled. I read a sermon this week in which the pastor said, “The true weakness of every man is that he must have a master, and, if it not be God, then someone or something else will emerge.” In his explanation of the first commandment, Luther says, “To have a god is to have something in which the heart trusts completely.” In Matthew, Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.”
In our Gospel today, Jesus seems to get truly angry at the way that the temple is being used -- so angry that he makes a whip and drives out the livestock, overturns the tables of the money-changers, and dumps their money on the floor. This reminds the disciples of a line from Psalm 69: “Zeal for your house will consume me.” By his reaction, Jesus shows us that even a gracious God has limits and standards. There is simply not room for God in a temple filled with commercial activity.
So how do we go about filling our lives with God so that there is no room for idols? Luther said, “Anything on which your heart relies and depends, I say, that is really your God.” This is not a matter of spending all of your time in prayer and study. It does not involve turning your back on the world and judging it as impure. Instead, it means making our daily lives and relationships revolve around God. Fortunately, God was kind enough to give us the framework for doing this in the Ten Commandments.
It is tempting to dismiss the Commandments as Jewish law that doesn’t apply to enlightened Christians who have been saved by the death and resurrection of Christ. Can we really believe in a God who says “I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments”? This is especially difficult in light of the fact that we, as mere humans, are not capable of keeping the commandments perfectly. Why should we do all of the work of trying to keep the commandments when we are bound to fail? More importantly, what does it mean to keep the commandments in today’s world?
This is not a new question; it is a fundamental part of what Luther was trying to explain when he wrote the Small Catechism. Like the promises that parents and sponsors make at baptism, the Catechism is focused on the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments. As you probably remember from confirmation, Luther begins the explanation of each commandment with, “we are to fear and love God, so that…” It is important that we begin by understanding the fear of God. Luther said that there were two kinds of fear: servile fear, the fear of punishment, and filial fear, the fear of disappointing the beloved. Society needs to use the threat of punishment to prevent crime; if speeding tickets were replaced by lectures from disappointed highway patrolmen, I would guess that incidents of speeding would go up. The Ten Commandments aren’t that kind of rules. They are designed for the common good, not as a device to measure morality or to establish cause for punishment. We are to put God first so that we use God’s name in prayer and eagerly learn as much as we can about God’s word. We are to love and respect our parents, our spouses and our neighbors so that we don’t anger, harm, deceive, or betray them, but instead obey, support, honor, help, defend and serve them. This is our responsibility as Christians.
Before Jesus died on the cross for our sins, he drove the businessmen out of the temple because their sins mattered. Those at the temple reduced faith to a transaction between man and God. If the proper sacrifices and donations were made, God would be pleased and appeased. That is not what it means to fear, love and trust God. God wants us to repent, to turn away from sin and toward God. Just as Jesus transformed fear and hatred into love and death into life, living according to the Ten Commandments can make our lives transformative. Perhaps it is time to go through our buildings and clear out the clutter. AMEN
In our Gospel today, Jesus seems to get truly angry at the way that the temple is being used -- so angry that he makes a whip and drives out the livestock, overturns the tables of the money-changers, and dumps their money on the floor. This reminds the disciples of a line from Psalm 69: “Zeal for your house will consume me.” By his reaction, Jesus shows us that even a gracious God has limits and standards. There is simply not room for God in a temple filled with commercial activity.
So how do we go about filling our lives with God so that there is no room for idols? Luther said, “Anything on which your heart relies and depends, I say, that is really your God.” This is not a matter of spending all of your time in prayer and study. It does not involve turning your back on the world and judging it as impure. Instead, it means making our daily lives and relationships revolve around God. Fortunately, God was kind enough to give us the framework for doing this in the Ten Commandments.
It is tempting to dismiss the Commandments as Jewish law that doesn’t apply to enlightened Christians who have been saved by the death and resurrection of Christ. Can we really believe in a God who says “I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments”? This is especially difficult in light of the fact that we, as mere humans, are not capable of keeping the commandments perfectly. Why should we do all of the work of trying to keep the commandments when we are bound to fail? More importantly, what does it mean to keep the commandments in today’s world?
This is not a new question; it is a fundamental part of what Luther was trying to explain when he wrote the Small Catechism. Like the promises that parents and sponsors make at baptism, the Catechism is focused on the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments. As you probably remember from confirmation, Luther begins the explanation of each commandment with, “we are to fear and love God, so that…” It is important that we begin by understanding the fear of God. Luther said that there were two kinds of fear: servile fear, the fear of punishment, and filial fear, the fear of disappointing the beloved. Society needs to use the threat of punishment to prevent crime; if speeding tickets were replaced by lectures from disappointed highway patrolmen, I would guess that incidents of speeding would go up. The Ten Commandments aren’t that kind of rules. They are designed for the common good, not as a device to measure morality or to establish cause for punishment. We are to put God first so that we use God’s name in prayer and eagerly learn as much as we can about God’s word. We are to love and respect our parents, our spouses and our neighbors so that we don’t anger, harm, deceive, or betray them, but instead obey, support, honor, help, defend and serve them. This is our responsibility as Christians.
Before Jesus died on the cross for our sins, he drove the businessmen out of the temple because their sins mattered. Those at the temple reduced faith to a transaction between man and God. If the proper sacrifices and donations were made, God would be pleased and appeased. That is not what it means to fear, love and trust God. God wants us to repent, to turn away from sin and toward God. Just as Jesus transformed fear and hatred into love and death into life, living according to the Ten Commandments can make our lives transformative. Perhaps it is time to go through our buildings and clear out the clutter. AMEN
Imagine yourself in the crowd who, along with the disciples, heard today’s Gospel reading. How would you have reacted to the words, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”? I imagine that I would have taken a good, long look at my toes had Jesus caught my eye during this particular speech. Deny myself? Why in the world would I want to do that? I do what I can for those in need; I volunteer at the food shelf, deliver food for the backpack program, and help out at open breakfast at Luther Haven. Don’t I have the right, even an obligation, to take care of my own needs and desires? I live a pretty simple life; what, exactly, am I supposed to deny myself anyway? I suppose the answer to that question is anything that is keeping me tied to the physical world and keeping me from the spiritual world. This is bigger than giving up something for Lent; this is real sacrifice. It is human nature to do what makes us feel good and to avoid that which brings us pain. It is no wonder that Peter tried to straighten Jesus out. That is probably why Jesus got so mad too -- Peter got a little too close to what Jesus was thinking himself. After all, Jesus was really human.
What about taking up my cross? We talk about having our own crosses to bear sometimes meaning something difficult that we just have to put up with. For example, being married to me is sometimes my wife’s cross to bear. But Jesus tells us to take up our crosses. It almost sounds like we are supposed to be eager to do so. When people in Jesus’ day took up their crosses, they were on the final leg of a journey to a gruesome torture and execution. I know that I am mortal, but I want to live as long and as comfortably as possible. What am I supposed to be willing to embrace for Jesus?
Finally, Jesus says, “follow me.” Part of this has to do with the cross again because that was Jesus’ destination from the start. Following Jesus also seems to entail spending time in the wilderness and on the fringes of society. I already spend quite a bit of time doing visitation, am I supposed to seek out the sick, poor, and hungry of the world? I know that whatever I do for the least of God’s children, so I do for God, but what about quality of life? Part of the satisfaction of service comes when I get back into my vehicle and return to my comfortable home. I am afraid that if I had been a part of the crowd that heard Jesus that day, I would have let him move on without following.
So what hope is there for those of us who just don’t measure up? I believe that there is abundant hope for us through the covenant that God has made with us through the life and death of Christ and through our baptisms. As Paul explains in the reading from Romans, Abraham’s part of the deal is quite simple: faith. Paul describes Abraham’s faith as the belief that God will keep God’s promise. I think that I can do that! The even better news is that we can start fresh every day through repentance and prayer.
I will close with a section of today’s gospel from the Message translation. “What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for? Think about it. AMEN
What about taking up my cross? We talk about having our own crosses to bear sometimes meaning something difficult that we just have to put up with. For example, being married to me is sometimes my wife’s cross to bear. But Jesus tells us to take up our crosses. It almost sounds like we are supposed to be eager to do so. When people in Jesus’ day took up their crosses, they were on the final leg of a journey to a gruesome torture and execution. I know that I am mortal, but I want to live as long and as comfortably as possible. What am I supposed to be willing to embrace for Jesus?
Finally, Jesus says, “follow me.” Part of this has to do with the cross again because that was Jesus’ destination from the start. Following Jesus also seems to entail spending time in the wilderness and on the fringes of society. I already spend quite a bit of time doing visitation, am I supposed to seek out the sick, poor, and hungry of the world? I know that whatever I do for the least of God’s children, so I do for God, but what about quality of life? Part of the satisfaction of service comes when I get back into my vehicle and return to my comfortable home. I am afraid that if I had been a part of the crowd that heard Jesus that day, I would have let him move on without following.
So what hope is there for those of us who just don’t measure up? I believe that there is abundant hope for us through the covenant that God has made with us through the life and death of Christ and through our baptisms. As Paul explains in the reading from Romans, Abraham’s part of the deal is quite simple: faith. Paul describes Abraham’s faith as the belief that God will keep God’s promise. I think that I can do that! The even better news is that we can start fresh every day through repentance and prayer.
I will close with a section of today’s gospel from the Message translation. “What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for? Think about it. AMEN
The more time that I spend reading the book of Mark, the more that I appreciate it. For example, what Mark describes in the 7 verses of this morning’s gospel reading take Luke over twice as many verses (16) and Matthew over three times as many (22). This frantic pace seems appropriate for the brevity of Jesus’ ministry. Jesus is baptized, the heavens are ripped open, the spirit descends in the form of a dove, and a voice tells him, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.", and the spirit immediately drives him into the wilderness. After 30 years of quiet preparation, Jesus’ ministry has hit the ground running.
Verse 13 is extremely rich: “He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” Of course, the 40 days line up with the 40 years spent in the wilderness, Noah’s flood, and many other events in the Bible. During this time, Jesus is able to accomplish what Adam and Eve couldn’t by resisting the temptation of Satan.
I am particularly drawn to the idea of Jesus being with the wild beasts. The first time that I read it, I imagined that such a situation would result in fear. I was reminded of my first time in a deer stand; driving myself crazy by imagining that every noise was the approach of a 12-pointer. As I thought more about it, my vision began to change; I now see Jesus curled up with a bear for warmth and with a purring cougar for a pillow. It just makes sense that the animals who had been saved along with Noah would recognize the Savior when they saw him.
The end of the verse leaves some doubt as to whether or not Jesus fasted. There is no grammatical reason to believe that the angels only ministered to Jesus after he succeeded in resisting Satan. Matthew and Luke give Satan the advantage of dealing with a Jesus who is weakened by a 40-day fast. Their angels do not arrive until after Jesus has turned Satan aside while Mark doesn’t even feel the need to confirm Jesus’ success. Of course, there wouldn’t be a story if Jesus had followed up his baptism by succumbing to Satan. I like to imagine that Mark’s choice is based on the fact that there could NEVER be a fair fight between Jesus and Satan and the idea that the wilderness is Jesus’ home turf, not Satan’s. Time after time, Jesus retreats to quiet, empty places to pray. Jesus is not afraid to spend time alone because Jesus knows himself and trusts his Father. Satan is not the offer of a glass of cool water to a person dying of thirst -- Jesus is.
I think that the main lesson of this verse is that the most important work of God has always been done in the wilderness, away from the posturing and self-righteousness of the institution of church, and the Lenten season is the perfect time to renew our focus as a church. This season is a mishmash of traditions including the 40 days to parallel Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness and a time of preparation for baptism on Easter Sunday. As you go through these 40 days, keep your baptism in front of you. Remember the promises that were made on that day and reflect on what being baptised means to you. How has your baptism equipped you to survive in the wilderness? AMEN
Verse 13 is extremely rich: “He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” Of course, the 40 days line up with the 40 years spent in the wilderness, Noah’s flood, and many other events in the Bible. During this time, Jesus is able to accomplish what Adam and Eve couldn’t by resisting the temptation of Satan.
I am particularly drawn to the idea of Jesus being with the wild beasts. The first time that I read it, I imagined that such a situation would result in fear. I was reminded of my first time in a deer stand; driving myself crazy by imagining that every noise was the approach of a 12-pointer. As I thought more about it, my vision began to change; I now see Jesus curled up with a bear for warmth and with a purring cougar for a pillow. It just makes sense that the animals who had been saved along with Noah would recognize the Savior when they saw him.
The end of the verse leaves some doubt as to whether or not Jesus fasted. There is no grammatical reason to believe that the angels only ministered to Jesus after he succeeded in resisting Satan. Matthew and Luke give Satan the advantage of dealing with a Jesus who is weakened by a 40-day fast. Their angels do not arrive until after Jesus has turned Satan aside while Mark doesn’t even feel the need to confirm Jesus’ success. Of course, there wouldn’t be a story if Jesus had followed up his baptism by succumbing to Satan. I like to imagine that Mark’s choice is based on the fact that there could NEVER be a fair fight between Jesus and Satan and the idea that the wilderness is Jesus’ home turf, not Satan’s. Time after time, Jesus retreats to quiet, empty places to pray. Jesus is not afraid to spend time alone because Jesus knows himself and trusts his Father. Satan is not the offer of a glass of cool water to a person dying of thirst -- Jesus is.
I think that the main lesson of this verse is that the most important work of God has always been done in the wilderness, away from the posturing and self-righteousness of the institution of church, and the Lenten season is the perfect time to renew our focus as a church. This season is a mishmash of traditions including the 40 days to parallel Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness and a time of preparation for baptism on Easter Sunday. As you go through these 40 days, keep your baptism in front of you. Remember the promises that were made on that day and reflect on what being baptised means to you. How has your baptism equipped you to survive in the wilderness? AMEN
I have been asked several times during the process of becoming ordained to describe my call. These requests make me feel inadequate. When I think of a call, I imagine Moses at the burning bush, young Samuel being visited by an angel and thinking it was Eli, or Saul on the road to Damascus. It seems like someone who wants to be a pastor should be able to identify the moment when that decision was made. I don’t want you to waste any time feeling sorry for me though; you see, you have been called as well. Can you point to the moment when it happened for you?
Our readings today provide contrasting reactions to being called. On one hand, we have an excerpt from the story of Jonah. Before this excerpt, as you all know, Jonah has spent 3 days examining his faith in the belly of a fish. After the excerpt, Jonah throws a fit because God has changed his mind about destroying Nineveh. Jonah might be described as the story of how NOT to be a disciple.
On the other hand, our Gospel reading shows us the correct way to respond when Jesus calls: immediately and without question. There is some disagreement over whether or not Jesus and the fishermen had met previously; I agree with the idea that they had, at the very least, listened to the preaching of Jesus and that they had quite possibly had private conversations with him as well. Even so, it is quite a commitment for these men to leave their jobs, homes, and families for an uncertain future with Jesus. Why would they do it?
This question brings us back to the idea that we are all called. Even if we can’t identify a specific, life-changing moment, maybe we can see the fingerprints of God in our lives. Let me explain by telling my story. As you know, I grew up on a farm as a part of a family that took church attendance seriously. I got good grades in high school and was accepted at Gustavus. I didn’t tend to business there; I graduated with a low GPA and a BA in English. While in college, I worked for a company in Granite that installed and repaired equipment at grain elevators. After graduation, I went back to work there. Before long, I fell off of a grain dryer and broke my heel into 13 pieces. Since jobs for English majors with a serious limp were hard to come by in Montevideo, I moved to the cities to look for work. While staying with a high school buddy, I got lost and ended up at the Days Inn hotel south of the Met Center, where the Mall of America stands today. While working there, I met a young lady whose family came from Porter, and we got married. After our third child was born, we didn’t want to live anyplace that we could afford in the cities, so I took a job at Tri-Line cooperative in Clarkfield. After working there and at the elevators in Watson and Montevideo, I decided to go back to school and get my teaching license. Fourteen years later, I was on a call committee, and two things happened: I realized that there is a real shortage of ministers in this area, and I found out about the TEEM program. There is no point in this story that could remotely be called a plan, but every step of the way served a purpose.
I want you to take a minute to think about the path that you have taken to where you are in your life today. What choices and events have influenced your journey? Where was God in those choices and events? Jesus told the fishermen that he would teach them to fish for men. This shows us that whatever we have can be used for the glory of God. What would Jesus say to you? I will make you a harvester of hearts, a secretary of souls, a farmer of faith, or a mechanic of mercy. God can use our hobbies too. We can be bowlers of beatitudes, gardeners of grace, and bikers of blessing. The point is, our callings are not separate from our lives -- they are in the way that we live our lives. Being a Christian should and does impact how we live, and it is not without risk. At the very least, we might end up looking foolish. What we need to do is make a decision: are we going to imagine the worst and run from our responsibility like Jonah, or will we imagine the best and run toward Jesus? "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." AMEN
Our readings today provide contrasting reactions to being called. On one hand, we have an excerpt from the story of Jonah. Before this excerpt, as you all know, Jonah has spent 3 days examining his faith in the belly of a fish. After the excerpt, Jonah throws a fit because God has changed his mind about destroying Nineveh. Jonah might be described as the story of how NOT to be a disciple.
On the other hand, our Gospel reading shows us the correct way to respond when Jesus calls: immediately and without question. There is some disagreement over whether or not Jesus and the fishermen had met previously; I agree with the idea that they had, at the very least, listened to the preaching of Jesus and that they had quite possibly had private conversations with him as well. Even so, it is quite a commitment for these men to leave their jobs, homes, and families for an uncertain future with Jesus. Why would they do it?
This question brings us back to the idea that we are all called. Even if we can’t identify a specific, life-changing moment, maybe we can see the fingerprints of God in our lives. Let me explain by telling my story. As you know, I grew up on a farm as a part of a family that took church attendance seriously. I got good grades in high school and was accepted at Gustavus. I didn’t tend to business there; I graduated with a low GPA and a BA in English. While in college, I worked for a company in Granite that installed and repaired equipment at grain elevators. After graduation, I went back to work there. Before long, I fell off of a grain dryer and broke my heel into 13 pieces. Since jobs for English majors with a serious limp were hard to come by in Montevideo, I moved to the cities to look for work. While staying with a high school buddy, I got lost and ended up at the Days Inn hotel south of the Met Center, where the Mall of America stands today. While working there, I met a young lady whose family came from Porter, and we got married. After our third child was born, we didn’t want to live anyplace that we could afford in the cities, so I took a job at Tri-Line cooperative in Clarkfield. After working there and at the elevators in Watson and Montevideo, I decided to go back to school and get my teaching license. Fourteen years later, I was on a call committee, and two things happened: I realized that there is a real shortage of ministers in this area, and I found out about the TEEM program. There is no point in this story that could remotely be called a plan, but every step of the way served a purpose.
I want you to take a minute to think about the path that you have taken to where you are in your life today. What choices and events have influenced your journey? Where was God in those choices and events? Jesus told the fishermen that he would teach them to fish for men. This shows us that whatever we have can be used for the glory of God. What would Jesus say to you? I will make you a harvester of hearts, a secretary of souls, a farmer of faith, or a mechanic of mercy. God can use our hobbies too. We can be bowlers of beatitudes, gardeners of grace, and bikers of blessing. The point is, our callings are not separate from our lives -- they are in the way that we live our lives. Being a Christian should and does impact how we live, and it is not without risk. At the very least, we might end up looking foolish. What we need to do is make a decision: are we going to imagine the worst and run from our responsibility like Jonah, or will we imagine the best and run toward Jesus? "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." AMEN
Have you ever met anyone famous? The closest I have ever come is when a bunch of WWF wrestlers attended a wedding reception at the hotel where Tami and I worked. Watching Baron von Raschke lead the bunny hop is an image that I will cherish forever. Imagine being one of the first people ever to be aware of Jesus -- whether you heard John the Baptist speak about him, or you were present at his baptism, or, most exciting of all, if Jesus actually approached you.
In today’s gospel reading, Jesus begins to call his disciples. It is interesting that he doesn’t really try to sell himself to the masses and then sort through resumes to find the most qualified disciples. In fact, it is John the Baptist who gets the ball rolling, first by declaring that one greater than he is coming and secondly by specifically pointing out Jesus to two of his own followers. Jesus still doesn’t make it about himself; I would have expected him to say something about being the one about whom John was talking or playing the “son of God” card, but Jesus makes it about the other, asking, “what do you seek.” What a loaded question! How do you answer it? Jesus’ next line is an invitation that occurs twice in the reading… “come and see.” At this point, Jesus isn’t trying to persuade them to follow him; instead, he is offering them the opportunity to spend the day in his presence. One of these men, Andrew, cannot wait to tell his brother, SImon Peter, about his day. Well, the only telling was, “we have found the Messiah. Let’s go!” Simon Peter must have been easy to convince -- before we know it, he is renamed “the rock.”
The next section of the gospel is almost a repeat of the first: Jesus goes to the hometown of Andrew and Peter to find Philip and Nathanael. This time, however, it is Jesus who approaches Philip, saying, “follow me.” Philip’s first thought is to find Nathanael, telling him, “We have found him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathanael is skeptical at first, and that isn’t so surprising. For these men to believe that the Messiah is from a neighboring small town is like us hearing that he is from Granite, Maynard, Dawson, or Monte. It would be especially hard to believe if that small town was a rival with our hometown. Philip echoes Jesus’ line, “come and see.” It doesn’t take long, though, for Jesus to cut through the skepticism. When he tells Nathanael that he had seen him earlier under the fig tree, he is really telling him that he has seen Nathanael’s very thoughts and desires… that he knows him better than Nathanael knows himself.
This is an amazing story -- especially if we insert ourselves into it. Just imagine Jesus seeking you out personally, inviting you to his home, becoming your teacher and your friend. What would your first response be? Wouldn’t it be to find someone with whom to tell the good news, or, if you lacked the words, to ask the other to “come and see?” Isn’t this our calling -- “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven. go and make disciples of all nations.” and all of that. Our task as Christians is not to “prove” the truth of the Christian faith. Our task is not even to persuade others to become Christian. Our task is to say, “Come and see.” We cannot compel, argue or shame people into faith. That’s not what God wants. All that is asked is that we live our lives in a way that gives people an inkling of where in our community Jesus is staying. Billy Graham summed it up well when he said: “We are the Bibles the world is reading; we are the creeds the world is needing; we are the sermons the world is heeding.” AMEN
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January 3, 2016 Christmas 2
The Word existed “in the beginning.” It is God’s plan for eternity. I’m not sure if “logos” is another way of explaining Jesus, but it seems as if it might be. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as the Trinity have existed since before time began and will continue to exist for all eternity. The light, the truth, has always existed, and the darkness has never been able to extinguish it. Even a speck of light shows up in the darkness.
God’s creation was done through the Word. The Word was the source of life, and life was the light for all people.
John was sent to tell about the light so that everyone would believe. Even so, the world didn’t recognize the light. Even his own people, those who should have seen him as the fulfillment of the prophecies, did not accept/receive/welcome him.
Even so, all who believed in him were given the right to be born again as children of God. (The Church) Those people saw Christ’s glory, “the glory that the Father shares with his only Son, a glory full of kindness and truth.” Because of this fullness, all Christians have received “grace upon grace.” The law had existed since the time of Moses, but grace and truth were given to us through Jesus Christ.
No man has ever seen God, but he is made known to us through Jesus.
Breaking open the Gospel:
1. What is God’s Word for you? The Word is the light and the truth. The Word is the grace that was given to all through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.The Word is the source of all creation, so all of creation is meant to reflect his light. We receive “grace upon grace” through the community of believers. In other words, God’s gift to us inspires us to “pay it forward.” There is, after all, no point in hoarding something that has no limits. The natural reaction to kindness is to repay it with further kindness. The Word is what allows us to fully see the Glory of God through Jesus. The Word is eternal and unchanging.
2. How is Jesus the Word? Jesus is the Word because he is the Word made Flesh. Jesus is the earthly representative of the Trinity -- the immortal become mortal so that the mortal could become immortal by receiving eternal life. The birth of Jesus was a second beginning after creation. What would have happened if Jesus had been accepted the first time? Why didn’t God go all “old testament” and simply wipe out those who didn’t believe? It is because if we truly give a gift, we give it “no strings attached.” If it is really better to give than it is to receive, is it because of what we get out of it? Yes, it is a good thing to make others happy. Yes, it is a good thing to share with those in need. Does it matter why we do it? The second coming of Jesus will be the fulfillment of the promise. Of course, there could be no “Christian” church without Christ. Because Christ became human, humans can know God. This makes Christianity about much more that a set of rules for living or some kind of moral compass designed by man. Jesus brought Grace, which is what makes salvation possible. Because God’s gifts are given to all and without conditions, the church and its people are freed from the responsibilities of scorekeeping and judgement. Instead, we can live in God’s glory -- “a glory full of kindness and truth.”
3. Where did your faith begin? My faith began at home, at church, and in the community. These places always overlapped in a very meaningful way. Of course, we NEVER missed church, but it was more than that. We were active in the church -- mom and dad through circle, Bible studies, boards and committees -- my sisters and I through Sunday School, Bible school and acolyting, but it was more than that tool. Faith meant much more than church and church-related activities. My parents raised us with a clear sense of right and wrong, and they showed us how to live Christian lives. When a neighbor had trouble, my parents did what they could to help without criticizing. I grew up knowing that I was surrounded by people who cared about me, and the church was the hub of that community. We often lament the fact that this is no longer so. I realize that we cannot spend our time looking backward if we want to move forward. It is clear that our world has changed. We no longer depend on our neighbors as we did in the past. There are no longer two farms in every section. The days of country schools, sleigh rides to neighboring farms, and barn dances are behind us. If we are to rebuild the Christian community, where do we start? How can the Church regain its focus of making Christ the center of the community?
God’s creation was done through the Word. The Word was the source of life, and life was the light for all people.
John was sent to tell about the light so that everyone would believe. Even so, the world didn’t recognize the light. Even his own people, those who should have seen him as the fulfillment of the prophecies, did not accept/receive/welcome him.
Even so, all who believed in him were given the right to be born again as children of God. (The Church) Those people saw Christ’s glory, “the glory that the Father shares with his only Son, a glory full of kindness and truth.” Because of this fullness, all Christians have received “grace upon grace.” The law had existed since the time of Moses, but grace and truth were given to us through Jesus Christ.
No man has ever seen God, but he is made known to us through Jesus.
Breaking open the Gospel:
1. What is God’s Word for you? The Word is the light and the truth. The Word is the grace that was given to all through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.The Word is the source of all creation, so all of creation is meant to reflect his light. We receive “grace upon grace” through the community of believers. In other words, God’s gift to us inspires us to “pay it forward.” There is, after all, no point in hoarding something that has no limits. The natural reaction to kindness is to repay it with further kindness. The Word is what allows us to fully see the Glory of God through Jesus. The Word is eternal and unchanging.
2. How is Jesus the Word? Jesus is the Word because he is the Word made Flesh. Jesus is the earthly representative of the Trinity -- the immortal become mortal so that the mortal could become immortal by receiving eternal life. The birth of Jesus was a second beginning after creation. What would have happened if Jesus had been accepted the first time? Why didn’t God go all “old testament” and simply wipe out those who didn’t believe? It is because if we truly give a gift, we give it “no strings attached.” If it is really better to give than it is to receive, is it because of what we get out of it? Yes, it is a good thing to make others happy. Yes, it is a good thing to share with those in need. Does it matter why we do it? The second coming of Jesus will be the fulfillment of the promise. Of course, there could be no “Christian” church without Christ. Because Christ became human, humans can know God. This makes Christianity about much more that a set of rules for living or some kind of moral compass designed by man. Jesus brought Grace, which is what makes salvation possible. Because God’s gifts are given to all and without conditions, the church and its people are freed from the responsibilities of scorekeeping and judgement. Instead, we can live in God’s glory -- “a glory full of kindness and truth.”
3. Where did your faith begin? My faith began at home, at church, and in the community. These places always overlapped in a very meaningful way. Of course, we NEVER missed church, but it was more than that. We were active in the church -- mom and dad through circle, Bible studies, boards and committees -- my sisters and I through Sunday School, Bible school and acolyting, but it was more than that tool. Faith meant much more than church and church-related activities. My parents raised us with a clear sense of right and wrong, and they showed us how to live Christian lives. When a neighbor had trouble, my parents did what they could to help without criticizing. I grew up knowing that I was surrounded by people who cared about me, and the church was the hub of that community. We often lament the fact that this is no longer so. I realize that we cannot spend our time looking backward if we want to move forward. It is clear that our world has changed. We no longer depend on our neighbors as we did in the past. There are no longer two farms in every section. The days of country schools, sleigh rides to neighboring farms, and barn dances are behind us. If we are to rebuild the Christian community, where do we start? How can the Church regain its focus of making Christ the center of the community?
December 27, 2015, Young Jesus at the Temple