Vanity, Vanity

Pentecost 8C

July 31, 2022

Good Shepherd, Wells, MN

Luke 12.13-21; Ecclesiastes 1.2, 12-14; 2.18-23

Two weeks ago, I mentioned that a characteristic of Jesus in Luke’s Gospel is that he is provocative. In other words, Jesus provokes us out of our comfort zones and pushes us to understand what it means to follow the way of Jesus. Nowhere is Jesus more provocative than when he talks about money, which Jesus does more in Luke than any other Gospel. It might be more accurate to say that Jesus provokes us about our attitudes toward money and possessions than money itself. That’s certainly the case today as Jesus responds to a man’s request for help with an inheritance by telling the parable of the rich fool. And in case you miss the thrust of the parable, the lectionary folk have paired a reading from Ecclesiastes: “Vanity of vanities.”

The translation that yields the word “vanity” is an unfortunate one in our day. In the word vanity we think of this as an unhealthy attitude of pride, and there is that nuance in Ecclesiastes. But the Hebrew word more accurately refers to something fleeting and transitory, like a mist that hangs above the grass in the early morning and burns off at first light. “The Teacher,” as he is called in Ecclesiastes, provokes us with brutal honesty that everything is fleeting. As the pastor’s son reminds his father, who was upset over the first ding in his new car, “It’s all going to burn, Dad.” He listened more closely to his father’s sermons than the father thought.

These reminders are important because our pride over our accomplishments can be subtle. Years ago, when I worked as a store manager for Minnesota Fabrics, Bob, one of the other managers, remarked how he was looking forward to getting on the “gravy train.” At Minnesota Fabrics, our first store as a manager would be smaller, underperforming ones. Because our compensation included a percentage of the profits of the store, it was customary to bid on larger, more profitable stores to increase our earnings. The “gravy train” in Bob’s mind would be one of the large stores that consistently earned large profits and thus handsome earnings for the manager.

When I thought about Bob’s desire, I resisted that idea even though I bid on larger stores and increased my earnings. Even so, I did so as a way of working up the corporate ladder with the hope of larger positions with more responsibilities. I didn’t want to be a store manager for my entire career. If I recall correctly, Bob got on the “gravy train” or very close to it. (I had moved on to a different city.) But the ironic thing is that Minnesota Fabrics no longer exists. Vanity of vanities. I don’t know what happened to Bob, but he was a good manager, so he probably landed on his feet. Even so, as I think about my attitude, I don’t think it was any better than Bob’s for the same reason. My journey up the corporate ladder ended similarly.

What is missing from the schemes of the rich fool, Bob, me, and I daresay many of us is a consideration of other people. Did you notice that the rich fool talked about no one else but himself? He claims credit for all his success even though he must have people working for him. Nor does he consider a family in any way. And what good is grain that is stored up in barns and not shared? More to the point, the rich fool forgets about the God who gave him the ability to grow grain in the first place. He eats and drinks alone. Ultimately, that’s not very merry. And when his soul is called for a night, there is no one to either receive his goods or grieve for him.

I think that’s the real tragedy in the parable and why Jesus seems to go out of his way to provoke us. He wants us to know that our attitude toward possessions cuts us off from our most important relationships. And even though those relationships are fleeting just like our possessions, it doesn’t make them any less valuable. In fact, that’s why we value those relationships all the more, especially our relationship with God. And when everything fades away, it’s the relationships that persist through all eternity. This message of God’s love and care for us is so important that Jesus went all the way to the cross to secure it. Thanks be to God. Amen.

My written sermons often preach differently "live." To watch the video, click here.

Who Am I but Dust and Ashes? - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost Year C

Who Am I but Dust and Ashes?

Pentecost 7C

July 24, 2022

Good Shepherd, Wells, MN

Genesis 18.16-32; Luke 11.1-13

Have you heard of the “humble brag?” Google says, “When you want to boast but pretend to be modest about it, or if you gripe about something most people would desire, you're humblebragging.” For example, “Ugh, my phone is so old! I'm embarrassed to take it with me during my dates with supermodels and actors.” Or “I can’t believe I got into Harvard!” In case you haven’t noticed, social media is full of humblebragging. It may be easy to miss, but Abraham does a humble brag in his conversation with God when he declares, “I who am but dust and ashes.”

Today’s first reading from Genesis follows on the heels of last week’s. Three heavenly visitors, one who is assumed to be the Lord, come to see Abraham and Sarah, informing them that they will be parents of a son. It appears that these visitors have additional business: checking on the outcry against the sinfulness of Sodom and Gomorrah. Two of the heavenly visitors go on their way to check out the rumor while the Lord remains standing before Abraham. What follows is a remarkable theological exchange where Abraham questions God’s character. 

[Side note: the “grave sin” supposedly committed by Sodom and Gomorrah is not homosexuality as is commonly supposed but rather a people who are organized against God and God’s purposes. Check it out for yourself.]

How is it that Abraham can stand toe-to-toe with the Lord and continually question him? I think it’s contained in that seemingly innocuous phrase, “I who am but dust and ashes.” On the one hand, it’s Abraham’s recognition that he is a mere mortal compared to the immortal and eternal God. As we intone on Ash Wednesday, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” And then at the gravesite of our loved ones, “We commit their body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”

But on the other hand, Abraham is subtly reminding God of their special relationship. At the beginning of Genesis, it was God who formed humanity out of the dust of the earth and breathed life into them, creating humanity in God’s own image and placing them in a unique relationship. It’s a relationship that enables Abraham to boldly remind God that God’s very nature interrupts that typical scheme of indictment and judgment that is prevalent in Old Testament times. Abraham declares that God’s being can mean that the condemnation of sin leads to a different ending.

As we learn throughout Genesis, Abraham is no saint, but he is a symbol of righteousness. As is noted elsewhere in the Bible, “Abraham believed and it was reckoned to him as righteousness. Although there aren’t enough righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah to prevent destruction, through one of Abraham’s descendants, the righteousness of one man, will spare all humanity and creation. That Righteous One is Jesus Christ. Through that same Jesus Christ, we are emboldened to be like Abraham, to stand toe-to-toe with God and insist that God honor our relationship, that God be the God of true justice and mercy.

This story about Abraham and the Gospel reading from Luke reminds us that prayer is more relational than transactional. What do I mean by that? We tend to treat God as a cosmic vending machine, that with the exact “change” (words) we get what we want. Though there is room for asking God for the needs of us and others, those petitions are rooted in our special relationship with a God whom we trust to be God, to respond with mercy, love, and justice. Remember, sisters and brothers, you are dust and ashes, beloved of God who invites you to come and to bring your whole selves with you. Amen.

My written sermons often preach differently "live." To watch the video, click here.

At the Feet of Jesus - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost Year C

At the Feet of Jesus

Pentecost 6C

July 17, 2022

Good Shepherd, Wells, MN

Luke 10.38-42

Do you ever wonder why we have four Gospels, four different stories about Jesus? The four Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John have their own unique characters and give us different perspectives on Jesus. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is portrayed as a great teacher and as such makes us think deeply about life in the kingdom of God. Mark’s Jesus is in a hurry.  He’s on the way, fulfilling God’s mission, moving at a pace that leaves us breathless. John’s Jesus makes us scratch our heads, telling us things both simple and profound, often at the same time. But Luke’s Jesus is a provocateur, who provokes us, often pushing us out of our comfort zones.

We saw that provocation last week with the story about the Good Samaritan as Jesus pushes us to reconsider who our neighbor is, how we show mercy, and from whom we accept help. And we see it again today. The story of Mary and Martha pushes all sorts of buttons with us. This story is so deeply ingrained in our churches that we call people Marys or more often Marthas. This is not always favorable. Truth be told, our churches have been built on the backs of the Marthas in our midst and although we often talk about spreading the load, churches might very well collapse without their presence.

Yet, the Gospel writers don’t present caricatures or stock characters so we need to dig a little deeper into the text. It’s important to acknowledge that Martha is probably the head of her household and is responsible for its functioning, particularly when Jesus and his followers show up to dinner. Some commentators have suggested that Martha ran an inn or hostel, but we don’t know that for sure. Either way, she was responsible for her guests. And it’s true that Martha would have every expectation of help from her sister Mary. Furthermore, as we’ve seen from the Good Samaritan story, Jesus values doing and serving so he’s not criticizing Martha’s serving. But unpacking the Greek shows that Martha is not merely wrapped up in preparations. She is over-the-top anxious, all twisted inside.

So, Jesus is not playing one of them off against the other or saying one is better than the other. Rather, Jesus is inviting Martha to find space in her life to sit at Jesus’ feet and learn from him. For those of us who live a busy and fast paced life, this sounds like a condemnation, not an invitation. So, by analogy, let me try something out on you that might help understand what I think Jesus is getting at so that it can be good news to you.

During the Reformation, a dispute arose about the “real presence” of Jesus in the elements of Holy Communion. Was the bread and wine Jesus’ body and blood? Luther said, “Yes, when Jesus says ‘this is my body’ and ‘this is my blood,’ that ‘is’ really means ‘is.’” Another reformer, Ulrich Zwingli said “No,” that Jesus can’t be in the bread and wine because he has ascended to the right hand of God. Jesus, he claimed, can’t be in two places at once. So, in Holy Communion, Zwingli asserted, we are lifted to the throne of grace where Jesus is. In a nifty bit of reasoning, Luther responded that Zwingli had it wrong because the right hand of God is not in a fixed place but is wherever Jesus is. He further asserted that Jesus can be wherever Jesus wants to be but, when we want to find Jesus we are assured of finding him in, with, and under the elements of bread and wine in Holy Communion.

What does this have to do with today’s lesson? Just this: like the right hand of God, the feet of Jesus are wherever we need them to be. The feet of Jesus can always be found where we expect: in worship on Sundays and Wednesdays; whenever we engage in prayer; when we read the Bible; as we gather for fellowship; and even in acts of generosity and service. But, Jesus wants us to know, the feet of Jesus can also be found in the midst of our hectic lives. Whenever we find ourselves in frenzied distraction, we can pause, maybe even remove our shoes to help us remember, and know that we are at the feet of Jesus.

Sometimes it’s good to be provoked as Luke’s Jesus does so often. We need to notice the invitation that Jesus gives us to sit at his feet. Whether that is here in this place or somewhere else life-giving, know that you are worthy of love and belonging to Jesus and invited to sit at his feet. Amen.

My written sermons often preach differently "live." To watch the video, click here.

Whole-Hearted Love - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Whole-Hearted Love

Pentecost 5C

July 10, 2022

Good Shepherd, Wells, MN

Luke 10.25-37

In an episode from the original “Star Trek” series, Captain Kirk and his Enterprise crew encounter two aliens whom they discover are bitter enemies. One has been chasing the other and fighting for 50,000 earth years. As the story unfolds, it is discovered that the long-standing enmity has to do with their otherwise identical appearance: one is jet black on the left side of his face and snow white on the other side. The second alien’s face is just the opposite. That’s the only difference. Kirk decides to take them back to their home planet and when they arrive there, they discover they are the only two survivors of this war. Everyone else has been wiped out. Even so, that doesn’t stop them from continuing to fight each other.

It was obvious to me in the late 60s this was a morality play commenting on race relations. But I thought of it as I worked with today’s Gospel reading that we know all too well: “The Good Samaritan.” We certainly know there are times when we find reasons, good, legitimate reasons, not to help someone in need like the priest and Levite do, falling short of what God hopes for us. Yet, if all we did today was to encourage one another to “do likewise” by loving our neighbor as much as we love God, to fulfill our love for God and his love for us, it would be enough.

Still, as I played with the idea of the Samaritan as the hero in this story, I discovered something else that I hadn’t seen before. We know that Samaritans and Jews were bitter rivals, enemies even, who not only hated each other but would have nothing to do with each other. The enmity went back centuries. When the Jews were defeated by the Babylonians in 598 BCE, the exile of Jews began, the temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, and the only ones left in Judah are the “less desirable.” Those folk move to the Samarian region where they do the forbidden, intermarry with non-Jews, probably out of necessity. But they continue to worship Yahweh.

When the Babylonians are defeated by the Persians 60 years later, Jews are allowed to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple. This is what begins the blood feud with the Samaritans. The Jews consider the Samaritans to be impure, not true Jews, and the Samaritans believe they are the true worshipers of Yahweh because they never left. They also believe that they worship Yahweh in the right spot. The upshot of all this is that the first hearers of this story would have been appalled and scandalized by the notion of a Samaritan as “Good.” We can see this in the lawyer’s inability to name him as he can refer to him only as “the one who showed him mercy.”

I know there is more going on with Jews and Samaritans that we don’t understand or know about them. But what strikes me is that the two groups have far more in common than they don’t. They both worship the same God, they have a common ancestry, and both are trying to be faithful to God’s calling on them. But what also strikes me is that in the moment of one’s great need and the other’s compassion, those differences disappear and become irrelevant, the distinctions are no longer important.

The story is pushing us to realize that whole-hearted love erases the lines we draw and invites us to see one another as beautiful, fallible, broken, beloved children of God who are all in need of healing. Part of that healing comes in not only providing care for those we might despise, but also accepting help from those whom we are least likely to want it. This is hard, but necessary work. I don’t know what this will mean for you, but I invite you to think about how this might be a part of God’s mission and ministry through Good Shepherd Lutheran Church. Amen

My written sermons often preach differently "live." To watch the video, click here.