Genuine Imitation - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter - Narrative Lectionary 2

Genuine Imitation

Easter 4B – NL2

April 21, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Acts 17.1-9; 1 Thessalonians 1.1-10

One night when I was a boy, my father took me with him to watch his bowling league. It was a real treat because it was at night when I’d normally be asleep. There must have been no school the next day. I don’t remember much about that night. What I do remember is my dad introducing me to one of his bowling buddies. Immediately, the friend said, “Oh Carl, I know he’s your son, he walks just like you.” What little chest I had puffed out with pride and joy, and I remember thinking to myself, “I’m Carl’s son. I walk just like him!” Now, I know he taught me how to bowl, though I don’t remember the specifics. Even so, I know I imitated him. A few years ago after I finished bowling, the man at the counter must have been watching me because he commented, “Someone taught you to bowl.” “Yes,” I answered, “my father.”

Genuine imitation is a theme that runs through our readings in Acts 17 and 1 Thessalonians 1. We’ve made a big jump since last week's story in Acts 3. The Apostle Paul has had his Damascus Road experience of encountering the risen Christ, which “converts'' him to the gospel. And the Apostle Peter has had his own conversion experience regarding the inclusion of Gentiles, the young church at Jerusalem has made a huge decision to extend their mission to non-Jews. Though Peter initiates this move, the torch is passed to Paul. That mission is going to “the ends of the earth” signified by a mission to Greece. Thessalonica was a major port on the Aegean Sea and capital city in the Roman province of Macedonia. It also laid along the major trade route, the Via Egnatia, and therefore held strategic importance.

Paul did what he normally does when entering a city, goes into a synagogue if there is one. (If not, he’ll find a “place of prayer,” usually down by the river.) Now, when it says that he argued with those present, the sense is more of discussion, dialogue, and reasoning, something that typically happened in a synagogue. Indeed, some people are persuaded, including upper class women and Gentiles. However, the Good News of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection wasn’t good news to all for some people got incensed to the point of violence. Even so, it is good to be reminded that “Jews” most likely refers to religious leaders who felt threatened, not all Jews. So, Paul et al. are forced to leave and go to Beroea where they get a better reception.  However, trouble followed them as some Thessalonians could stand to see them succeed there.

After a while, Paul will send Timothy back to Thessalonica to check on the nascent church and report back to him. This first letter to the Thessalonians is Paul’s response to Timothy’s news. In what’s probably our oldest New Testament document, Paul uses a standard format for letter-writing in the ancient world. He begins with a greeting and then follows with a thanksgiving. But this where Paul deviates from the norm: the thanksgiving is greatly extended and takes up a good chunk of the letter. In it we can hear Paul’s deep care for the church as he encourages it from a distance.

Now, if we can get beyond the “mutual admiration society” between Paul and the church, we can explore a theme that runs throughout the texts: mutuality or “genuine imitation.” The Thessalonians have strived to imitate Paul’s example of faithfulness during duress. In turn, the Thessalonians themselves have become a similar beacon to other churches. Paul, in praising their faithfulness, offers them encouragement as they continue to endure.

I wonder what kind of letter Paul would write to the church at Faribault, Our Savior’s. Here’s my take:

Scott, Drew, and Grace. To the church of Our Savior’s Lutheran, Faribault, in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace.

We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. For we know, siblings beloved by God, that he has chosen you, because our message of the gospel came to you not in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction; just as you know what kind of persons we proved to be among you for your sake. We give thanks for your perseverance and resilience in the face of so many challenges, that despite the challenges, or maybe because of them, your faith and example are stronger

Of course, we know that we aren’t perfect and we’re not always the best role models. What we do know is that God loves us no matter what we do or don’t do, and that love inspires us to share God’s love. Because God loves us unconditionally, we are freed to proclaim that love in word and deed. We are strengthened in this work through Jesus Christ who not only gave himself on the cross in the ultimate display of love but also through him who gives himself in Holy Communion. May that love strengthen you as you continue to be the church God has called you to be. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

Wait, Wait, Then Tell Me - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter Year B - Narrative Lectionary 2

Wait, Wait, Then Tell Me

Easter 2B – NL 2

April 7, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Acts 1.1-14

To be a pastor in the ELCA, and many other churches, we are required to do 400 hours of chaplaincy called CPE or Clinical Pastoral Education. For me that was after my first year of seminary. Normally, you would do CPE in a clinical setting, such as a hospital. I chose to do mine at the Gettysburg Lutheran Home, partly because it was close to where we were living.  But it was mostly because I had little experience with elderly. My paternal grandparents died before I was born and I saw my maternal grandparents rarely because they lived far from us. There weren’t many aunts and uncles or great-aunts and great-uncles either.

So, I was looking forward to that first day with both anticipation and anxiety. After a brief orientation by the CPE supervisor, the six of us were instructed to go out and meet people on the floors. I panicked. I thought that the supervisor was supposed to train me to do what I needed to do. We debriefed that experience and the Chaplain, Jim, said that, although he agreed a bit more instruction would be helpful, that he trusted we had what we needed, and the seminary chose us well.

Jesus’ disciples, i.e., learners, are now suddenly apostles, i.e., ones who are being sent. I wonder if they had a similar feeling of apprehension that I did as they shifted to their new role. It seems jarring to us to go right from Mark’s abrupt ending at Easter to this reading in Acts. Unlike Mattew, Luke, and John, Mark has no post-resurrection appearances. So, these first few verses bridge that gap and at the same time start to unfold what Pr. Drew indicated at Easter: that God will continue to write the story through us.

Acts begins to tell that story, at least of the early church as it tries to figure out what they are to do and how they are to live out the implications of Jesus’ resurrection. They seek to answer the great Lutheran question even before there were Lutherans: “So, what does this mean?” As we travel through Acts these next several weeks, there are a few things to keep in mind. First, “The Acts of the Apostles” as it is fully named, is more correctly called “The Acts of the Holy Spirit.” The Spirit is mentioned 43 times in Acts and clearly guides the unfolding ministry. Second, there are three movements in Acts. Acts begins in Jerusalem and ends in Rome, metaphorically the “ends of the earth.” Peter starts out as the main character but gives way to the Apostle Paul. And what begins as Jewish movement is extended to all people known as Gentiles. Finally, there is one obvious thing: the apostles are making it up as they go along and they don’t always get it right.

That happens immediately as they ask Jesus about the coming kingdom of God. We wonder if they still had visions of a warrior Messiah who will come and kick out the Romans. But Jesus shifts their attention to something we almost miss: they are to go back and to wait. They are to wait to receive power from on high, the Holy Spirit at a time we now call Pentecost. Notice that doesn’t mean they aren’t doing anything; they’re devoting themselves to prayer. Even so, in the next verses, they feel like they must do something, so they hold an election to fill Judas’ spot. Isn’t that typical?

None of us has seen the risen Christ as those first witnesses did, but there has been an unbroken chain of witness for 2,000 years that has been passed down to us. Now it’s our turn. That responsibility weighs hard on us as we think that sharing the Good News of Jesus. I can sense you getting anxious, sweaty, and nervous as you think being a witness means going door to door, buttonholing people, and using the threat of hell on them to believe in Jesus. However, I want to tell two stories that might relieve that anxiety.

In my first store as manager for Minnesota Fabrics in the Chicago area, I had an employee Marty who invited me to dinner. She and her husband, Floyd, were hosting an out-of-town friend Mark and they thought we’d get along. I agreed. Indeed, we had a great evening together. Suddenly, imperceptibly, the conversation shifted over coffee. I don’t know how or why because it certainly wasn’t intentional, I found myself telling them about how a few months earlier that I’d returned to church after being away for many years. I told them how I discovered that the church was the place to seek answers to my questions about God. As a result of that conversation, Mark and Marty started examining their faith, Floyd not so much. But I want to be clear that I’m not the star of this story. God through the Holy Spirit is. The Holy Spirit created the space for the conversation.

The second story comes when I was a pastor in Winona and a funeral director, Brian, called me about a funeral for a non-member. This person considered themselves Lutheran even though they were unaffiliated. Furthermore, the family wanted a Lutheran pastor who wouldn’t preach at them. So, Brian said, “I thought of you.” (I guess there was a compliment in there somewhere, but I was sure I knew what he meant.) So, I made arrangements to visit the family and racked my brain thinking about how I’d bring Jesus into the conversation. After all, my call is to preach the promises of the resurrection. But when I arrived, I discovered that they were already talking about God. I mentally slapped my head for I realized what I should always know, that God not only beat me there, God was always there.

Andrew Root and Blair Bertrand wrote a book, When Church Stops Working. Among other things they say that we should not be like our surrounding culture, focusing on more.  That focussing on more programs, more people, and more money is misguided. Those aren’t bad things, just not the focus of our work. They have more to say that’s helpful, but the most important is to point to today’s text from Acts and something we miss: we are to wait. We are to wait for the power of the Holy Spirit to guide us into the future.

Although your Transition Team will be doing things, we’ll mostly be waiting for the Holy Spirit to speak to us and through us as we see what God is up to at Our Savior’s, what kind of leadership needed to walk with you into the future. Above all, know this: Like my experience in CPE, God has given Our Savior’s what is needed. As my experience with Mary, Mark, and Floyd, the Holy Spirit creates the space to do it. And like my experience in Winona, God goes ahead of you. Thanks be to God. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

The Last Seven Words" - Reflections on Good Friday Year B - Narrative Lectionary 2

Luke 23; John 19; Matthew 27                                                                         March 29, 2024

Good Friday B                                                                               Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

“The Seven Last Words”

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The words must have been difficult to utter, on two accounts. Having been seriously whipped, losing copious amounts of blood, walking all the way to Golgotha (the Hill of the Skull), carrying the burdensome crossbar, having his arms and legs nailed in place, suffering exhaustion and shock, every breath painful and labored, Jesus still somehow manages to speak. And yet these are not words of spite or hate or derision. No, they are the words of a prayer: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

The first words proclaimed from the cross are directed to Jesus’ Father who, for some obscure reason, has allowed his only Son to be brutally, savagely, and wrongfully murdered. Still, Jesus finds it in his heart and in his dying breath to plead forgiveness for the ignorance of humanity. In the name of God, Jesus begs pardon for those who claim to be acting in the name of God. Which of us, thinking that we spoke for God, have done what those who crucified Jesus did? How many of us, who are nowhere near Jesus in sinlessness, can forgive as Jesus did?

Jesus, the obedient Son gave himself as a sacrifice for the sins of humanity. He is the sacrifice that accomplishes forgiveness and, in that very act, asks for the forgiveness of all humanity, including you and me. Many people have died horrible deaths as Jesus did, and some may have forgiven their executioners, but only Jesus by his death fulfilled his purpose and teaching in life: to heal the brokenness of humanity; to repair the relationship between God and the creation; and to offer humanity a new way of living, one which God had intended for us from the very beginning. God, forgive us, for we all to often know what we are doing. Amen.

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” An incredible promise made in response to a vague request: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” As St. Ambrose said many years ago, “More abundant is the favor shown than the request made.” One of those crucified with Jesus makes an incredible statement of faith but asks for very little: simply to be remembered. What he receives is grace heaped upon grace: the offer of Paradise.

Remarkably, this second criminal can see something in Jesus that the first criminal dismisses sarcastically: Jesus is the Messiah. The Messiah, the Anointed One, the Christ, was the One that Jewish people had been expecting to come for many years. They expected the Messiah to be a descendant of King David and therefore they were looking for a warrior king who would drive out the Romans and restore the kingdom of Israel as the centerpiece of the world. Jesus hardly looked like a king to the first criminal.

It’s been only a few days since Jesus came riding into Jerusalem like a conquering hero sitting on a royal beast. The crowds had shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” Now, the words of blessing have been turned to words of mockery; now the shouts of “Hosanna” have been turned to shouts of “Crucify him!” Yet the second criminal sees what the other does not: Jesus’ throne is the cross; his humiliation is his exaltation; and his kingdom is not of this world but is the one that God has promised since the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden: Paradise.

Despite evidence to the contrary, Jesus’ authority is very much intact. Jesus is very much a king who can confer promises and blessings, even in the most hopeless of situations. Jesus’ faith is unshaken throughout his life, and even unto death. Those who have faith in the faithfulness of Jesus receive the saving benefits of his kingdom, even as he dies. Jesus, remember us as you come into your kingdom, and let us be with you in Paradise. Amen.

“Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother.” Jesus looks out through eyes almost swollen shut because of the beating he has taken, eyes that are stinging from the mixture of sweat and blood pouring down from his forehead, on which sits the crown of thorns. Still, he can see those who are nearest and dearest to him. They are in agony because of his agony; and he is in agony over their agony. But most importantly, Jesus can look through the eyes of love. It’s not only love for all of humanity but also love for those that have touched his heart in a special way: his mother and the disciple Jesus loved.

Of course, Jesus loves all of us, but love is deepened as relationships are deepened. Jesus’ relationship with his mother is especially deep, almost as deep as God’s love for the world. It’s deep because Mary is a mother like all mothers, tied to their children with more than an umbilical cord. But it’s deep also because Mary intimately knows the unmerited grace that chose her to bear God’s Son. Children need mothers, and mothers need children to care for, but mothers also need children to care for them.

And so, Jesus, amid the gambling and pettiness, indeed amid his death, takes time to attend to what may seem trivial in comparison to his awesome work. But it is not trivial to him, nor is it trivial to us. He bequeaths to each other the things most precious to him, and in doing so shows us that his work is not only eternally significant; it is significant for the here and now. In providing for his mother and the beloved disciple, Jesus models a pattern of care and concern for our earthly needs and relationships.

Yet, because of the cross and what it stands for, Jesus also demonstrates the formation of fellowship, what we now call the family of faith. The cross marks the formation of a new people of God, at the center of which stands Mary, Jesus’ Mother, and the Beloved Disciple, symbols of faithful discipleship. Jesus, gather us as siblings and parents of faith. Amen.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It would be difficult to imagine any place more God forsaken than the cross. An instrument of torture and humiliation, the cross stands for the very opposite of God’s intention for humanity. The cross was about the farthest place one could get from God’s purposes in the world. And Jesus, God’s own Son, was at that place. Echoing the words of Psalm 22, a psalm of lament, Jesus expresses that deepest of human questions that many of us have uttered, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Should anyone dare to question the humanity of Jesus, they would look no further than the cross and these words. We are all too aware of Jesus’ suffering, especially those of us who have seen Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.” But we are less certain about his emotional state, so we tend to speculate what was going through his mind and what these words mean. On the surface, they seem to be words of hopelessness, faithlessness, and despair.

Instead of trying to read Jesus’ mind, we might pay more careful attention to his words, especially as an echo of the psalm. As a good and faithful Jew, Jesus was comfortable with arguing with God. God chose humanity for a special relationship, one that included frank and open exchanges. Just as Abraham, Moses, and Jonah challenged God, so did Jesus. And the intensity of his words is directly proportional to the depth of his faith. One doesn’t chastise a God that one doesn’t believe in. Only those who have great confidence in God can be disappointed when God remains aloof.

If Jesus is abandoned by God, it can only be because he is giving his life for sinners. Sin is separation from God, and Jesus took our sins upon himself, paying the price for us. We may not be able to know fully what Jesus means in his anguished cry, but we also cry, “My God, my God, please do not forsake me.” Amen.

“I am thirsty.” His tongue bloated and dry from the loss of body fluids, Jesus utters another simple yet profound statement. “I am thirsty.” It’s a wonder he could talk at all as he nears the end of his life. Of course, he was thirsty, as any human being would be thirsty in that condition. Water is the lifeblood of all creation, including our bodies, which are biologically bags of water. Without water we die. Jesus is thirsty; Jesus is dying; and dying of thirst is a horrible way to die.

It’s somewhat ironic, isn’t it, that the one who claims to be the Living Water, and who promises to his followers that they will never thirst, is thirsty himself. We who come with tongues hanging out to the Thirsty One are told that we will never thirst nor hunger ever again. Our tongues are bloated, and our stomachs are swollen as we seek that which truly satisfies the deepest thirsts and hungers imaginable. For some reason, we look for that satisfaction on the cross.

We do so because we are told that scripture says it to be so. In a more profound sense, Jesus thirsts as a fulfillment of Scripture, and Jesus must fulfill scripture. It’s what is called “divine necessity” because it is what God has deemed necessary for the completion of God’s vision of salvation. Since the very beginning, followers of Jesus have tried to make sense of his death, and they have scoured the Scriptures trusting that God has not done anything that contradicts what was promised and what was necessary.

God did do something totally unexpected and new in the sending and crucifixion of the Son, Jesus. But it was not outside of the promises made to us in Scripture. It was necessary that Jesus both thirst and die for us because God was determined to repair the broken relationship with each and every one of us. Dear God, we are thirsty. Give us some of that Living Water. Amen.

“It is finished.” Finished: over, done with, ended, completed. Any of these words can be used but what exactly is finished? In the immediate sense, Jesus’ life is over. Soon, he will commend his spirit to God and breathe his last. The agony of beating, scourging, and crucifixion will finally be over with. Death may even be welcomed, though not on its own terms. To the end death only comes when Jesus is ready for it to come. It’s over only when Jesus says it is over.

Yet, there is another meaning to, “It is finished.” Jesus’ death signals the end of his ministry on earth. No longer will Jesus preach, teach, and heal. Already the memory of his time with humanity starts fading from their minds. Already his presence on the earth is like some dream: faintly recalled but earnestly desired to continue.

But with the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry comes the completion of his mission from God. So here is another aspect to, “It is finished.” Jesus has accomplished all that God has asked him to do, even to the very giving of his life. For “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish…not to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through him.” Scripture has been fulfilled as God has promised. Though Satan’s hold on the world seems to have solidified, it has been broken instead; the Tempter’s rule is over.

However, we who gather to ponder Jesus’ last words know that this ending is not the ending. But let us not rush too quickly away from the foot of the cross. We need not wallow in Jesus’ death, but it is right that we linger a bit longer. We must acknowledge the shadow of the cross that falls upon each of our paths. And as we anticipate the fulfillment of God’s promises we welcome the power of the cross in our lives. It is finished. Almost. Amen.

 

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” One last gasp, and a holy one at that. Darkness now fills the earth as death is at hand. Jesus’ unrighteous crucifixion takes on cosmic significance. So much so that the temple curtain is torn in two from top to bottom. The powers of evil and darkness are poised to take over the rule of the earth, waiting for Jesus’ final breath.

Breath: pneuma in the New Testament Greek; ruah in the Old Testament Hebrew. These same words are used for breath, wind, and spirit. It is the wind that passes over the waters of creation. It is the breath of God that is the life force found in humanity. It is that which enlivens the prophets of God and inspires us to follow Jesus. It’s what we call Holy when it proceeds from the Father and Son: calling, gathering, and setting aside disciples into the church; it bestows gifts to be used for the benefit of all; it unifies believers into the very broken body of Jesus Christ; it pronounces forgiveness, the same forgiveness that Jesus prays we may receive; and it breathes in us the hope that the powers of darkness will not prevail.

Jesus, the one who was handed over to death, freely hands over to God what God first gave him. He places himself squarely into the hands of the One that he has always trusted, God the Father. Jesus again displays a supreme act of human dedication by entrusting his very spirit to God. The Spirit has been with Jesus throughout his life and ministry: at his conception, his baptism, his transfiguration, his whole ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing.

We who are also soil and spirit, dust and breath of God, are also handed over with Jesus. We who have been baptized into Jesus likewise have been baptized into his death. As Jesus completes his mission on earth, we who are gathered at the cross utter with great fear and trepidation, “Father, into your hands we commend our spirits.” Amen.

For the entire Good Friday service, click here.

Palm Sunday Year B - Lectionary 2 - The Way of the Cross: Humbly Giving

The Way of the Cross: Giving Humbly

Palm Sunday B – NL 2

March 24, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Mark 11.1-11; 14.3-11

I recently finished binge-watching the Netflix series, “The Crown,” by which I mean 1-2 episodes an evening. “The Crown” chronicles the life and reign of Queen Elizabth II from her ascension to the throne as a young woman upon the death of her father, King George VI. It takes us through to her death, though it skips several years beforehand. I’m not sure I liked the series as much as I found it interesting. I also wonder how accurate it is, how they could have known about the intimate dialogue portrayed. Even so, much like our wonderings about similar things in the Bible, I choose to focus on the truths being expressed.

One thing that emerged from watching “The Crown” was a realization that the “characters” were and are very complicated people. Sometimes they behaved clueless and arrogant but at other times principled and noble. You wanted to throttle and admire them, often at the same time. But the main point I saw was the expectations placed on the royals in general and “The Crown” in particular. These expectations were traditional, personal, and from the public, Mostly, there was a constant tension between what the Queen thought should be done and what others thought she should do.

I think expectations are at the forefront of today’s readings, the one we just heard and the other we’ll hear at the end of the service, the anointing of Jesus by an unnamed woman. Like “The Crown,” which often recounts past events as it deals with the current story, today we zip back in time a few days to hear about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem in order to consider where we are and where we are going. In Mark’s version of the entry into Jerusalem, Jesus is very low-key and, after his initial instructions, doesn’t say anything. As one observer noted, Jesus exhibits “authoritative or dignified lowliness.” He’s the strong, silent type.

Some historians have postulated that this would have been in stark contrast to the entry of the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, who would have come from a different direction. Pilate would have been riding on a warhorse with a contingent of soldiers. They would come every year in this way as a show of force to keep the multitude of Passover pilgrims in line. As events unfold, it will become apparent that there are some of those pilgrims who expect that Jesus will become that same kind of warrior king, just like his ancestor David, who will kick out the Romans. He will not meet these expectations. As former Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson often observed, “unfulfilled expectations are resentments in waiting.” Come Good Friday, there will be many resentments.

In a few minutes, we’ll hear the story of a woman who bears the brunt of unfilled expectations and subsequent resentments. All this because she is criticized for an extreme act of love. We’ve placed this story at the end of worship to give us a springboard into Holy Week of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. It takes place at the home of Simon, interestingly named, and is presumably a former leper and outcast. The unnamed woman anoints Jesus, a sacramental act that acknowledges that he is set apart by God for a purpose. When she is chastised for the extravagance, worth a year’s pay, Jesus defends her actions. Not only has she anointed him for burial, but she will also be remembered for what she has done.

Today is our sixth stop on the journey we began on Ash Wednesday, “The Way of the Cross.” It’s been a literal walk as we’ve joined Jesus as he turned his face toward Jerusalem. It’s also been a spiritual journey as we have explored what it means to follow Jesus in the way of the cross. We’ve heard that following Jesus involves denying ourselves and taking up our cross, that something has to die in us so that we might have the abundant life God offers us. Today, life is to be found in humbly giving. We are invited to be like Jesus who humbly offers himself and like the woman who does the same.

To go deeper into the way of the cross, I invited folk this past Wednesday into the Jewish spiritual practice of mitzvah. In its strictest terms, mitzvah means obeying a commandment, of which there are many. But in practice it can also mean doing a good deed for someone without anybody knowing it. So, to practice humbly giving, I’m encouraging you to do the same sometime in the next week. Maybe you could send a note of encouragement to someone without signing it, make a donation anonymously, or just pick up trash. The possibilities are endless.

Meanwhile, today we experience the tension between the joyful entry of Jesus into Jerusalem and the sobering realization that he entered Jerusalem to humbly offer himself to die. The closing Scripture and our subsequent silent exit from the sanctuary will heighten the tension and undoubtedly feel a little awkward. That’s intentional. So, I hope you will continue this journey to the Last Supper and stripping of the altar on Maundy Thursday and the seven last words of Jesus as he is crucified on Good Friday. It’s the unexpected but necessary Way of the Cross. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

The Way of the Cross: Loving Neighbor - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent Year B, Narrative Lectionary 2

The Way of the Cross: Loving Neighbor

Lent 4B-NL 2

March 10, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Mark 12.28-44

Please pray with me: Lord, open my lips, that my mouth shall declare your praise so that no dishonorable words would be uttered by my tongue. Open the eyes of everyone here, that we may see your wondrous beauty in all the world  and not be blind to your ongoing acts of creation. Open our ears, that we may not be deaf to the cries of the needy but hear your call on our lives. Open our minds, that our imagination for mission may be stretched and not closed to new possibilities. Open our hearts, that they may not be cold to you or the ones you love but be fertile soil for the planting of your word. Open our hands, that we may not cling to those things that draw us away from you but receive the blessing you have for us and others through us. Open our awareness, that we may remain in the present moment because that’s the only one we have. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

“The first [commandment] is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12.29-31)

Loving your neighbor is hard.

I walked into the cafeteria after class one day and went over to the table where my good friend Dick and others were having coffee. But before I could say anything Dick said, “Scott, I don’t have time for you today.” I was crushed. Obviously I had done something to upset Dick, but I had no idea what it was. Even worse, I felt ashamed because Dick did this in front of several people. Eventually, Dick and I talked and I learned he was upset because I had bad mouthed his former girlfriend after they broke up. I thought I was taking his side, helping him feel better about the breakup. Dick told me the real reason they broke up. It was a very serious one that helped me understand why it happened. I realized I was being judgmental without all the facts and worse, didn’t bother to understand. I thought I was taking the moral high ground and being a friend. I ended up doing the opposite.

Loving your neighbor is hard with someone you like, and even harder when it’s someone you don’t like. Today we continue our Lenten series, “The Way of the Cross,” which we understand in two related senses. The first is the literal sense as we journey with Jesus to the upper room, Golgotha, the cross, and the empty tomb. The second sense is the spiritual journey we are making as we go deeper into learning how to follow Jesus. As we make this journey, we remember Jesus’ words to deny ourselves, take up the cross, and follow him. As we do this, we know that something in our lives must die so we might have life and have it abundantly.

In Mark’s version of this story, unlike Matthew’s, a religious leader is not testing Jesus, but really wants to know what the greatest commandment is. As a scribe, he is well-versed in the law, and is not surprised when Jesus begins with the Shema, the statement about God’s oneness that every Jewish person recites at the beginning of each day. Then Jesus equates the two commandments to love God and neighbor. After the scribe enthusiastically affirms Jesus’ response, he receives an “atta boy,” and the promise that he is not far from the kingdom of heaven. But then a few verses later, other religious leaders are not treated so kindly. Jesus has harsh words for them because their practices produce suffering of widows, a group they were entrusted with watching over and to treat much better. Loving a neighbor is hard, especially when you forget what is important in God’s kingdom.

I enjoy listening to a podcast called Hidden Brain, hosted by Shankar Vedantam. It explores the psychology behind what we do and why we do it. Vedantam has been doing a series called “US 2.0” which unpacks our divisions especially in our current and fraught political climate. Lately, I heard an episode called, “Win Hearts, Then Minds” with sociologist Rob Willer. Vedantam began the podcast with a quote from the Dalai Lama: “In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher.” Then Willer talked about how arguing with someone, trying to change their mind, doesn’t work. That’s something we all know through experience. Willer goes on to say that we need to hold our beliefs in abeyance as we build a relationship with someone else and discover their values. In other words, we need to exercise not only intellectual humility but also moral humility. We still hold onto our values and beliefs, but loosely as we explore what others might be able to teach us.*

Loving our neighbor is hard, especially when it is someone we disagree with, have fought with, who we don’t respect and might even hate. Yet, that is our calling as followers of Jesus and the way of the cross. We are asked to set aside our fiercely held beliefs and values to listen to others. We are invited to see things from the perspective of the other and to open ourselves to the possibility that God might be teaching us something through them.

In my interaction with Rick, I wish I knew then what I know now. Even so, I don’t always get this right; I’m still learning. So it is helpful that we realize Mark’s Gospel reminds us that the last word is always love. Our text that we hear today is at the end of Jesus’ public ministry and from this time forward Jesus will be interacting with his followers and antagonists. So it is that at this ending, Jesus invites us to love God and love our neighbor. We remember that those who are opposed to Jesus aren’t so entrenched that they can’t be open to God’s leading. And remember that love is not an emotion we feel but rather a path we travel, however imperfectly. It’s love that starts this on our journey with Jesus and love that will bring us home.

In closing, I’d like to pray this prayer from St. Francis of Assisi:

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood, as to understand, to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. 

Amen

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

*You can find the Hidden Brain podcast, "First Hearts, Then Minds," here.

The Way of the Cross: Going Last - Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent Year B, Narrative Lectionary 2

The Way of the Cross: Going Last

Lent 1B – NL 2

February 18, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Mark 10.17-31

I’m not going to ask you for money today, but by the end of the sermon, you might wish that I had.

Back in 2011, about this time of year, I was preparing to give my doctoral defense. I had sent off my thesis and wanted to be done with it. I had been part of a cohort that had been together for five years and this was the culmination of much effort. One last thing remained: we had to sign up for presentation slots. I really wanted to go first, not because I thought my thesis was so awesome, but I just wanted to get it over with. But someone else got there first and I decided that if given a chance, I’d go last instead. There was part of me that was trying to be courteous, but if I couldn’t go first, I’d go last. I must admit that I would do so because of the conventional wisdom regarding sitting in an interview: if I couldn’t make a good first impression then I’d make a good last impression.

I don’t think that’s what Jesus had in mind at the end of this story when he says, “The first will be last and the last will be first.” This is the second of three times that Jesus makes this pronouncement. We first heard it on Ash Wednesday when Jesus takes a child in his arms and upends our idea of greatness. Next week we’ll hear it again when Jesus referees a squabble between two of the disciples, again about priority in the kingdom of God, and asks if they will be able to drink the cup that he is going to drink. In a very short time, Jesus must remind his followers again and again that the ways of the kingdom of God are upside down from our culture’s ways and that the way of the cross is contrary to conventional thinking.

Today, the object lesson is not provided by the disciples themselves but a rich man. In other Gospels he is known as a rich young ruler. This man comes to Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. So, we wonder: does he truly want to go deeper into the life of faith or is he simply trying to justify himself? Is he looking for an “atta boy” from Jesus or does he truly want to follow him. My guess is that he is sincere, otherwise he missed a great opportunity to call it good after Jesus’ first answer and say, “Nailed it!” But he presses on and then wishes he hadn’t: Jesus tells him to sell everything he has and follow him. The fact that Jesus looks upon him with love indicates the man was, indeed, sincere in his desire to find life.

Now, here’s where we start to get antsy. Is Jesus’ command just for the rich man or is it meant for everyone. Jesus talks a lot about money in the Bible and the dangers of wealth. The American humorist Mark Twain puts it this way. “It’s not the parts of scripture I don’t understand that bother me. It’s the parts I do understand.” Said another way, “Possessions are their own punishment.” Our possessions can end up possessing us. Biblically, possessions were a sign of God’s blessing But that was something that our forebears perverted with the so-called Protestant Work Ethic. They worked hard to achieve material blessings so that they could be assured that God blessed them.

But, notice what Jesus asks of the rich man: everything he wants to know is from the Second Table of the Law, the Ten Commandments. The First Table has to do with our relationship with God: “I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before me. Do not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy.” However, the Second Table of the Ten Commandments has to do with our relationship with our neighbor. In essence, Jesus is asking the man about what he is doing with his possessions. As the man receives blessings from God, is he closing his fist around them or is he holding them with an open hand? Is the man willing to let go in order to gain the most important thing, abundant life?

There’s a story that is told about how indigenous peoples trap monkeys. They cut a hole in the top of a coconut just big enough for a monkey’s hand to get through. They securely tie the coconut to a stake or tree and put meat inside. The monkey will put its hand into the coconut and grab the meat, but won’t let go even when in danger of losing its life.

Of course, Peter can’t leave well enough alone and wonders about him and the others. They’ve given up everything, right? It sounds like Jesus gives them a pat on the back, giving them the “atta boy” that the rich man was looking for. Jesus tells them they will receive a hundredfold, but then he slips in “as well as persecutions.” Yikes. I think that Jesus wants to remind us that it isn’t what we do that’s important but rather what God does through us. Just as we rely on God for everything that we have, we even rely on God to help us let go of what is holding us back.

This is the second stop on our Lenten journey, “The Way of the Cross,” whereby we make two journeys. The first is the physical trip as we go with Jesus on the road to Jerusalem, which will involve suffering, rejections, the cross, and the tomb. But we also make the spiritual journey of the way of Jesus, what it means to follow him. Today we are encouraged to ask what we might be holding onto that keeps us from following Jesus. What do we need to let go of to pick up the cross? It could be physical things like our possessions, but it could also be things like anger or resentment or jealousy or greed or pride. Maybe it’s even letting go of the notion of needing to go last. Whatever it is, know that we don’t go alone or without resources. For the One who gave himself on the cross continues to give himself in the bread and wine, his very body and blood. For with God, all things are possible. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

Listen to Him - Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday Narrative Lectionary 2

Listen to Him

Transfiguration B – NL 2

February 11, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Mark 8.27 – 9.8

“This is my son, the Beloved; listen to him!”

Back in late summer of 2020, about 13.5 years ago, shortly after arriving at my last settled call at Grace in Mankato, I suddenly lost hearing in my left ear. Not having a doctor yet, I went to urgent care and was diagnosed with an ear infection. Furthermore, I was advised by the doctor to schedule a follow-up visit with an ENT (Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor). I didn’t, but when I didn’t regain my hearing, I did what I should have done sooner. After tests and scans, I was told I had Idiopathic Sudden Sensory Hearing Loss. (Idiopathic means “we don’t know what causes this,” but doctors can’t bear to say that, so they use “idiopathic.”) I was also told that there was  nothing they could do because even if they were to attempt surgery to correct what might be a vascular or neurological problem, the surgery would do more harm than good. Furthermore, hearing aids wouldn’t help. I did get a second opinion that agreed with the first.

I suffered for about 5 years with this condition until I thought my hearing had deteriorated further, so I went for another test. This time I was told hearing aids could help. They do help, but only partially. I have a lot of trouble in crowded, noisy places, and the theater is almost impossible. People think talking loudly helps, but not necessarily. It’s not that I can’t hear things, it’s that I don’t understand what I’m hearing. Even so, part of the blessing of having hearing loss is that I can relate to what older people must deal with.

So it was that my ears “perked up” as I worked with today’s Gospel reading from Mark. God says, “This is my son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Today is the end of the short, green season of Epiphany which helps us grow in our understanding of who Jesus is. (Much like the longer green season of Pentecost during which we grow in our understanding of what it means to follow Jesus.) Epiphany is bookended by two white festivals, Baptism of Our Lord and the Transfiguration. (It’s also why we’re celebrating Communion today.) Along the way we’ve discovered Jesus being revealed as healer, teacher, miracle worker, and one who goes where no one else dares go, even into death, and one who has and gives authority. Today we hear again how Jesus is not only the Son of God and Son of Man, he is the Messiah/Christ/Anointed One, God’s Beloved.

It’s a pivotal time in Mark’s Gospel as Jesus turns toward Jerusalem. In this text Mark essentially asks us if we are going to keep following Jesus or or turn aside. It’s a theological fork in the road and Mark could be channeling the words of the incomparable Yogi Berra: “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” To push us in this direction, Jesus asks a seemingly innocent question, “Who do people say that I am?” The disciples take the bait and answer. “Some say Elijah, some John the Baptist, and others one of the prophets.” Jesus stops suddenly, looks them in the eye, and becomes more pointed, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter, in a burst of insight prompted by the Holy Spirit declares Jesus to be the Messiah, also translated as the Christ or the Anointed One. But then blows it when he rejects Jesus’ declaration that is is necessary for the Messiah to undergo suffering, rejection, crucifixion, and being raised.One can imagine they all go pale when Jesus says they must deny themselves, take up his cross, and lose their lives to save them.

So, when God says, “This is my son, the Beloved; listen to him!” we ask, “Listen to what?” And perhaps we can add, what gets in the way of us hearing Jesus and following him? One pointer comes in the text itself, that what gets in the way is setting our mind on human things rather than divine things. There are so many messages in our culture and society that make it hard to hear Jesus. For example, there are factions in our country that demand allegiance to a political party or person. This breaks at least one Commandment and probably more. The first Commandment says, “I am the Lord your God, have no other gods before me.” While we’re at, in the process of breaking this one, we break the Eighth: “You shall not bear false witness” or, as Martin Luther admonished us in a positive way, to speak well of others. (By the way, if you are assuming that I am a Republican or Democrat, I’m neither. What I’m saying cuts across political parties.) I am also not advocating for a theocracy where religious leaders are in charge. I believe that engagement in our democratic process is important, even critical. Yet, the way of Jesus is even more so.

Of course, it’s not just the political cacophony that drowns out Jesus’ voice. You could name as many as I can, such as materialism and consumerism, maybe more. But my aim today is not to gore anyone’s particular ox. Rather, I think that listening to Jesus, following his way gives us grounding and perspective to hear these voices. Following the way of Jesus gives us “hearing aids” if you will, to discern healthy messages from unhealthy ones.

To help you with this listening, Pr. Drew and I have put together a Lenten Sermon series, “The Way of the Cross.” This title can be taken two ways. First, we are inviting you to walk with Jesus this Lent, from Ash Wednesday to Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and to the empty cross on Easter Sunday. The second way is to listen deeply to the scripture texts each week that inform us what that way looks like in our lives of following Jesus, what walking the way looks like. We begin this coming Ash Wednesday on “Being Great.”

One final thought: listening to Jesus is hard work, taking up the cross, and denying self. Yet, we are not left with resources for, as ML says, we pray “Lord, give me what you’re commanding.” Furthermore, as we take the gift of Holy Communion we believe that Jesus is present in the bread and wine, giving us food for the journey. So, will you join Pr. Drew, me and your fellow companions of the journey, listening to Jesus? Some day it’s the journey, not the destination, but we believe it’s both. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.