Strangers and Bandits and Thieves, Oh My!
Ash Wednesday – Narrative Lectionary 4
John 10.1-18
March 5, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
The process to become a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America is long and arduous, with multiple checkpoints along the way. This process mostly comes under the watchful eye of each synod’s candidacy committee, composed of both lay and clergy. I was fortunate to have a committee that both wanted me to succeed but also held me accountable for my progress and performance. Some of my Gettysburg seminary classmates weren’t as fortunate and we would often compare notes about our respective committees. Along the way, a question arose in my mind: was the candidacy committee a shepherd or gate-keeper when it comes to relating to would-be pastors? To many of my classmates, it seemed their committees operated as the latter, people who seemed more intent on trying to keep them out rather than help them become a pastor.
In today’s gospel, Jesus makes two of his seven “I am” statements: “I am the gate of the sheep” and I am the good shepherd.” He seems to have either an identity crisis or, at best, mixing his metaphors. So which is it? Is Jesus a gate or a shepherd? My Confirmation youth have learned that when I ask an either/or question that the answer is always, “Yes!” Jesus is both. You see, we know that the shepherd had a great responsibility for the sheep to keep them safe from harm. At night the shepherd would herd the flock into an enclosure at night and lead them out into the pasture to graze in the morning. There seems to be some evidence that during the night the shepherd would sleep across the opening. So, no one could get in or out without going through the shepherd first.
Now, unless you think that the intimate relationship between shepherd and sheep is romanticized by Jesus in our reading, let me tell you about Merlin. Merlin is our building and grounds supervisor, but he also raises sheep. Merlin used to name his sheep but doesn’t anymore because it’s too painful for him when he has to sell them. Even so, he knows each and every one of them, named or not. He is there when the ewes give birth, day or night, and is deeply grieved whenever he loses one. Whenever he talks about his sheep I can tell it in his voice how much he cares for them. And I know without a doubt that each and every one of his sheep know him and would follow him.
This is about the nearest Jesus gets to telling a parable in John and it is not a typical Ash Wednesday text Even so, I don’t think it could be a better story for today. The story reminds us that, like sheep, we are deeply vulnerable creatures whose lives can change quickly. The ashes we receive tonight are a sign of our own mortality, reminding us we are dust and to dust we shall return. The ashes also remind us that that there are forces in this world standing against God and drawing us away from the abundant life God intends for us. Furthermore, there are strangers, bandits and thieves that seek to rob us of that life, snookering us into trading our souls. We’ve been sold a bill of goods by them, that we can somehow buy happiness in all its forms. That happiness looks good, but all that is gold doesn’t necessarily glitter.
Yet, they are not just ashes. Rather, they are ashes made in the sign of the cross on our foreheads, the same place the Good Shepherd marked us as his own in our baptisms, telling us we are called by name and are his forever. The ashy cross reminds us that Jesus meets us in “the valley of the shadow of death” as the psalmist says, but we fear nothing because he is with us. Lent is a lot of things, but much of it is about paying attention to the shepherd’s voice amidst all of the other strange voices seeking to lead us astray.
This Lent we are giving you a chance to attend to the voice of the Shepherd in two ways. First, we invite you to walk the road to the cross with Jesus and his disciples through the passion narrative from John each Sunday between now and Easter. Second, we invite you to also do so through the Brought to Life series on the Wednesdays in between where area pastors will be recreating biblical characters who have been “brought to life” in an encounter with Jesus. I hope you’ll do both so you can feel secure as God’s precious one, protected by Jesus as the Good Shepherd and invited into a deeper and more abundant life through Jesus as the Gate. Amen.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
The Same, Only Different - An Invitation to the Lenten Journey
March 5 is Ash Wednesday, and thus begins the season of Lent. This year, however, Lent is going to be the same, only different.
Lent will still have the same 40 days (which doesn’t include the Sundays, by the way). And on Ash Wednesday we will still have the imposition of ashes. Furthermore, we will still enter Holy Week through Palm Sunday, continuing with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, ending with the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection on Easter Sunday.
We will still have midweek Lenten services in a round robin format that welcomes area pastors as guest preachers. We will have the usual dinner before each service, a combination of our customary Wednesday night fare and potluck. And we’ll continue our education for all ages on Wednesdays following worship (except on Ash Wednesday and during Holy Week).
Yet, this Lent will be very different.
Instead of waiting until Good Friday to read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion and death, we will spend most of the Sundays in Lent walking with Jesus on the way to the cross as described in the Gospel of John.
Moreover, on Wednesday nights the area pastors won’t be preaching as one normally thinks of preaching. Instead, each will be performing a first-person monologue in a series called Brought to Life. Each pastor will attempt to “bring to life” a biblical character who has been “brought to life” through an encounter with Jesus. (Thanks to Jason Glaser for this marvelous title!) Following the worship service, which will feature Holden Evening Prayer, the pastor of the night will gather for further conversation in the Heritage Room about the character’s encounter with Jesus. You can see our website for further information and a schedule (www.gracemankato.org).
Please take this posting as an invitation to go deeper into your life of faith this Lent by joining us on Sundays for the passion story and on Wednesdays for ways you might be Brought to Life. You can also join us electronically. I believe it will make a difference in your spiritual journey.
Lent will still have the same 40 days (which doesn’t include the Sundays, by the way). And on Ash Wednesday we will still have the imposition of ashes. Furthermore, we will still enter Holy Week through Palm Sunday, continuing with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, ending with the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection on Easter Sunday.
We will still have midweek Lenten services in a round robin format that welcomes area pastors as guest preachers. We will have the usual dinner before each service, a combination of our customary Wednesday night fare and potluck. And we’ll continue our education for all ages on Wednesdays following worship (except on Ash Wednesday and during Holy Week).
Yet, this Lent will be very different.
Instead of waiting until Good Friday to read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion and death, we will spend most of the Sundays in Lent walking with Jesus on the way to the cross as described in the Gospel of John.
Moreover, on Wednesday nights the area pastors won’t be preaching as one normally thinks of preaching. Instead, each will be performing a first-person monologue in a series called Brought to Life. Each pastor will attempt to “bring to life” a biblical character who has been “brought to life” through an encounter with Jesus. (Thanks to Jason Glaser for this marvelous title!) Following the worship service, which will feature Holden Evening Prayer, the pastor of the night will gather for further conversation in the Heritage Room about the character’s encounter with Jesus. You can see our website for further information and a schedule (www.gracemankato.org).
Please take this posting as an invitation to go deeper into your life of faith this Lent by joining us on Sundays for the passion story and on Wednesdays for ways you might be Brought to Life. You can also join us electronically. I believe it will make a difference in your spiritual journey.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
"Lighten Up" - Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday
Lighten Up
Transfiguration – Narrative Lectionary 4
March 2, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 9.1-41
At last week’s adult forum, Dr. Steve Anderson talked about bringing sight to Indonesians through Global Eye Missions. He told a particularly moving story about a man who had been sightless for over 20 years, who had never seen his wife or son until he had cataract surgery. That reminded me about how important sight is to me, the one sense I wouldn’t want to lose, if I had a choice. As a young boy, I read a story about Teddy Roosevelt, who as a young boy himself was not able to see words on a barn while hunting. Then, as a young adult I relearned the value of my eyes when I scratched both corneas, the most pain I have ever been in. Then, it was bifocals at age 40 and trifocals (transition lenses) at age 50. Now as I approach 60 I have Posterior Vitreous Detachment, which is more annoying than serious, but is responsible for those little floaters and some blurred vision.
Dr. Anderson also talked about people gaining spiritual sight through the work he was doing. I was also reminded that have also been keenly aware I have had a great deal of spiritual myopia as well. There’s a great scene in The Last Battle, CS Lewis’ version of Armageddon and the end of time, the consummation of all things. The good guys and bad guys are battling it out, but the dwarves fight against both sides because, as they say, “The dwarves are for the dwarves.” Yet in the end, they wind up getting tossed into the same hut as the good guys, at that Lewis says is “bigger on the inside than the outside.” The shabby hut, despite its appearances, takes you into the real Narnia, a beautiful place and lovely place. However, the dwarves fail to see its beauty and goodness, thinking it cold and heartless, and so they stay huddled together. Nothing can convince them that they are not in a dark place.
Our experience with eyesight and Lewis’ wonderful story illustrate the importance of our text today. Not just the beggar, but all of the characters in the story are touched by Jesus in invited into abundant life. As the story moves along, the beggar “sees” more and more who Jesus is; others not so much. As we know too well from snow blindness, it is ironic that the same light that can both help you see is the same light that can blind you.
What’s remarkable is that the beggar grows in spiritual sight while Jesus is off-stage and as he goes through challenges to his experience with Jesus. Dr. Jimmy Allen, former president of the Southern Baptist Convention, notes that sometimes we learn more about God through events that take us out of the safe and comfortable and into the unknown and challenging. That’s certainly been true in my life. I grew by stepping out of my comfortable agnosticism into the unknown of a church young adults group. I was challenged by my wife to tithe (give 10%) from the beginning of our marriage. I stepped into the unknown with a wife and two young daughters, selling all we had as I answered the call to attend seminary at the age of 38. Yes, even accepting this call to Grace was a journey out of the safe and comfortable.
As I look back on almost 18 years since my ordination, the touch of Jesus continues to open my eyes. The views I have had about heaven and hell, sexuality, the sacraments have slowly evolved over the years. While I continue to be unashamedly Lutheran, God has opened my eyes in new ways to see, and perhaps I have become even more Lutheran. More so, God has helped me to have the humility to say, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” Perhaps in the way of today’s text, it would be, “Lord, I see; help my blindness.”
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, a story not appearing in John. However, there may not be a better text than today’s. For the transfiguration is about getting a glimpse of God as God is, not what we want to make him. Like Philip and the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus invites us to “Come and see” what he is up to. His touch calls us forward through our struggles to “see deeper” into the life we share. This is true for us as a congregation: God is doing some wonderful things in our midst. Let’s lighten up and not blink as we move forward together into the unknown and challenging life of faith. Amen.
Transfiguration – Narrative Lectionary 4
March 2, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 9.1-41
At last week’s adult forum, Dr. Steve Anderson talked about bringing sight to Indonesians through Global Eye Missions. He told a particularly moving story about a man who had been sightless for over 20 years, who had never seen his wife or son until he had cataract surgery. That reminded me about how important sight is to me, the one sense I wouldn’t want to lose, if I had a choice. As a young boy, I read a story about Teddy Roosevelt, who as a young boy himself was not able to see words on a barn while hunting. Then, as a young adult I relearned the value of my eyes when I scratched both corneas, the most pain I have ever been in. Then, it was bifocals at age 40 and trifocals (transition lenses) at age 50. Now as I approach 60 I have Posterior Vitreous Detachment, which is more annoying than serious, but is responsible for those little floaters and some blurred vision.
Dr. Anderson also talked about people gaining spiritual sight through the work he was doing. I was also reminded that have also been keenly aware I have had a great deal of spiritual myopia as well. There’s a great scene in The Last Battle, CS Lewis’ version of Armageddon and the end of time, the consummation of all things. The good guys and bad guys are battling it out, but the dwarves fight against both sides because, as they say, “The dwarves are for the dwarves.” Yet in the end, they wind up getting tossed into the same hut as the good guys, at that Lewis says is “bigger on the inside than the outside.” The shabby hut, despite its appearances, takes you into the real Narnia, a beautiful place and lovely place. However, the dwarves fail to see its beauty and goodness, thinking it cold and heartless, and so they stay huddled together. Nothing can convince them that they are not in a dark place.
Our experience with eyesight and Lewis’ wonderful story illustrate the importance of our text today. Not just the beggar, but all of the characters in the story are touched by Jesus in invited into abundant life. As the story moves along, the beggar “sees” more and more who Jesus is; others not so much. As we know too well from snow blindness, it is ironic that the same light that can both help you see is the same light that can blind you.
What’s remarkable is that the beggar grows in spiritual sight while Jesus is off-stage and as he goes through challenges to his experience with Jesus. Dr. Jimmy Allen, former president of the Southern Baptist Convention, notes that sometimes we learn more about God through events that take us out of the safe and comfortable and into the unknown and challenging. That’s certainly been true in my life. I grew by stepping out of my comfortable agnosticism into the unknown of a church young adults group. I was challenged by my wife to tithe (give 10%) from the beginning of our marriage. I stepped into the unknown with a wife and two young daughters, selling all we had as I answered the call to attend seminary at the age of 38. Yes, even accepting this call to Grace was a journey out of the safe and comfortable.
As I look back on almost 18 years since my ordination, the touch of Jesus continues to open my eyes. The views I have had about heaven and hell, sexuality, the sacraments have slowly evolved over the years. While I continue to be unashamedly Lutheran, God has opened my eyes in new ways to see, and perhaps I have become even more Lutheran. More so, God has helped me to have the humility to say, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” Perhaps in the way of today’s text, it would be, “Lord, I see; help my blindness.”
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, a story not appearing in John. However, there may not be a better text than today’s. For the transfiguration is about getting a glimpse of God as God is, not what we want to make him. Like Philip and the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus invites us to “Come and see” what he is up to. His touch calls us forward through our struggles to “see deeper” into the life we share. This is true for us as a congregation: God is doing some wonderful things in our midst. Let’s lighten up and not blink as we move forward together into the unknown and challenging life of faith. Amen.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
"The Living Waters of Baptism" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Epiphany
The Living Waters of Baptism
Epiphany 7 – Narrative Lectionary 4
John 7.37-52
Grace Lutheran Church, Mankato, MN
February 23, 2014
“Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.” (John 7.37-38)
Our reading from John 7 is highly evocative today, as we have discovered every Sunday as we read the Jesus story in John. We get a small snapshot of yet another extended conversation that Jesus has with others. Although he doesn’t perform a sign this week as he usually does, he nonetheless declares himself one. And, though he doesn’t come right out and say, “I am the Living Water” as he does on numerous occasions in John, he just as well could have. And, as we have seen already in previous weeks, Jesus gets mixed reviews from the crowds. We will also see how the distance between positive and negative responses will grow in the weeks to come.
The festival referenced in the reading is Festival of Tabernacles or Booths, one of the three big pilgrimage feasts in the Jewish tradition. It was a fall harvest festival rooted in the memory of Israel’s wanderings in the wilderness from their bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land. Part of the week-long celebration was the daily libation brought from the Pool of Siloam. This outpouring of water would remind the people of God’s provision of gushing water from the rock struck by Moses’ staff. So, when in the midst of this ritual, Jesus declares that he brings living water, he again reorients people from Jewish traditions, particularly around the temple, to himself. In effect he declares that religion involves a person, not a place.
Last week, Jesus declared himself to be the Bread of Life and now he claims to be Living Water. Do you know how long humans can survive without food? Depending on many factors, most scientists believe you could survive eight weeks. That is, of course, assuming they have at least a small amount of water. Do you know how long a human can survive without water? Again, depending on factors, you could survive only two to three days. Notice that Jesus doesn’t simply provide water, but living water, water that moves and flows. That’s because water that sits in a pool becomes stagnant, not only dead but dealing death.
Now, unlike last week’s story about Jesus as the Bread of Life relating to Holy Communion, if you check a few commentaries about this week’s text about water, they’ll scream, “It’s not about Baptism!” Even so, my mind kept coming back to baptism, particularly since we rehearse many of the great water stories in our baptismal liturgy and, as we did today, in the Thanksgiving for Baptism. As I thought about Jesus as Living Water and baptism, I wondered about what our baptisms mean to us personally. In fact, I even asked a bunch of people this week, including a group of pastors.
As people reflected on the meaning of baptism, they often told a story. Many talked of how their baptism connected them to a larger community in a way they hadn’t been connected before. One person recently baptized talked of being able to take Holy Communion. A college student told of being assured that her worthiness doesn’t come from what she does, but rather who she is as God’s child. That’s a far more powerful resource for us as the baptized, one that some in Jesus’ day reject. There are two types of responses from the leaders of Jesus’ time that I see prevalent in our society today. The first is arrogance: “We know better, so just stop trying to think for yourselves.” The second response is a head-in-the-sand approach: “Don’t confuse us with the facts, we know what to think and believe.” I think many in our political system today especially embody one or both of these attitudes. How sad, for them and for us.
I was reminded yet again this past week about how our Lutheran heritage provides us an incredible grounding in grace and faith, one which allows us to reach out to people of other denominations and faiths. So, perhaps being baptized means being secure enough in God’s love to welcome and accept all people as God’s children. We believe that we know something about Jesus as Living Water, but we aren’t so arrogant that we believe we know everything. Furthermore, because of our baptism we are open to what God may be teaching us through others. As you come forward to receive Jesus as the Bread of Life in Holy Communion, I invite you to dip your fingers in the waters of baptism, remembering how Jesus provides the Living Water of grace, mercy, and love, enabling us to reach out to do the same. Amen.
Epiphany 7 – Narrative Lectionary 4
John 7.37-52
Grace Lutheran Church, Mankato, MN
February 23, 2014
“Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.” (John 7.37-38)
Our reading from John 7 is highly evocative today, as we have discovered every Sunday as we read the Jesus story in John. We get a small snapshot of yet another extended conversation that Jesus has with others. Although he doesn’t perform a sign this week as he usually does, he nonetheless declares himself one. And, though he doesn’t come right out and say, “I am the Living Water” as he does on numerous occasions in John, he just as well could have. And, as we have seen already in previous weeks, Jesus gets mixed reviews from the crowds. We will also see how the distance between positive and negative responses will grow in the weeks to come.
The festival referenced in the reading is Festival of Tabernacles or Booths, one of the three big pilgrimage feasts in the Jewish tradition. It was a fall harvest festival rooted in the memory of Israel’s wanderings in the wilderness from their bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land. Part of the week-long celebration was the daily libation brought from the Pool of Siloam. This outpouring of water would remind the people of God’s provision of gushing water from the rock struck by Moses’ staff. So, when in the midst of this ritual, Jesus declares that he brings living water, he again reorients people from Jewish traditions, particularly around the temple, to himself. In effect he declares that religion involves a person, not a place.
Last week, Jesus declared himself to be the Bread of Life and now he claims to be Living Water. Do you know how long humans can survive without food? Depending on many factors, most scientists believe you could survive eight weeks. That is, of course, assuming they have at least a small amount of water. Do you know how long a human can survive without water? Again, depending on factors, you could survive only two to three days. Notice that Jesus doesn’t simply provide water, but living water, water that moves and flows. That’s because water that sits in a pool becomes stagnant, not only dead but dealing death.
Now, unlike last week’s story about Jesus as the Bread of Life relating to Holy Communion, if you check a few commentaries about this week’s text about water, they’ll scream, “It’s not about Baptism!” Even so, my mind kept coming back to baptism, particularly since we rehearse many of the great water stories in our baptismal liturgy and, as we did today, in the Thanksgiving for Baptism. As I thought about Jesus as Living Water and baptism, I wondered about what our baptisms mean to us personally. In fact, I even asked a bunch of people this week, including a group of pastors.
As people reflected on the meaning of baptism, they often told a story. Many talked of how their baptism connected them to a larger community in a way they hadn’t been connected before. One person recently baptized talked of being able to take Holy Communion. A college student told of being assured that her worthiness doesn’t come from what she does, but rather who she is as God’s child. That’s a far more powerful resource for us as the baptized, one that some in Jesus’ day reject. There are two types of responses from the leaders of Jesus’ time that I see prevalent in our society today. The first is arrogance: “We know better, so just stop trying to think for yourselves.” The second response is a head-in-the-sand approach: “Don’t confuse us with the facts, we know what to think and believe.” I think many in our political system today especially embody one or both of these attitudes. How sad, for them and for us.
I was reminded yet again this past week about how our Lutheran heritage provides us an incredible grounding in grace and faith, one which allows us to reach out to people of other denominations and faiths. So, perhaps being baptized means being secure enough in God’s love to welcome and accept all people as God’s children. We believe that we know something about Jesus as Living Water, but we aren’t so arrogant that we believe we know everything. Furthermore, because of our baptism we are open to what God may be teaching us through others. As you come forward to receive Jesus as the Bread of Life in Holy Communion, I invite you to dip your fingers in the waters of baptism, remembering how Jesus provides the Living Water of grace, mercy, and love, enabling us to reach out to do the same. Amen.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
"Bread for Today" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
Bread for Today
John 6.35-59
Epiphany 6 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 16, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
“I am the living bread that came down from heaven … and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6.51)
Today, we have the first of seven “I am” sayings in John’s gospel, rich images for God’s provision, that tell something of who Jesus is and what God has sent him to do. Like much of John’s Gospel, we have an extended conversation following a sign. In this case the sign is the feeding of 5 thousand, where Jesus multiplies five loaves of bread and two fish while have 12 baskets left over. After being fed, the multitude follows Jesus across the Sea of Galilee where Jesus has fled because they want to make him king. Jesus points out their misunderstanding about the feeding and invites them into a deeper faith. As Jesus does so, he challenges their current understanding of a relationship with God. Furthermore, although it’s outside of today’s reading, Jesus’ sayings are so radical that some choose to leave and follow him no longer.
One reason some people find Jesus hard to swallow is his reference to eating his flesh and blood. Many of you see the obvious connection to Holy Communion in these verses, as did the early church, but for 1st century Jews, drinking blood was an abominable and forbidden act. But there are two other aspects to Jesus as the bread of life that are important: first, when Jesus uses the term “flesh and blood,” a term meaning the whole person, he means we need all of him. We don’t have the option to pick and choose those parts of Jesus we want and discard the rest like some kind of buffet. Second, as Jesus talks about giving himself for the life of the world there is an implied commitment that those of us who follow Jesus and feed on him for life are to give ourselves away, too.
As we reflect on this image of Jesus as the Bread of Life, have you ever stopped to think about how much we focus on food and drink in our society? Billions of dollars are spent on advertising, meals at restaurants are super-sized and all you can eat buffets flourish while our food pantries are seeing record usage and some schoolchildren are going hungry. Furthermore, the First Lady, Michelle Obama, is focusing on childhood obesity while incidents of bulimia and anorexia run rampant. I think this food folly is a symptom of a deeper spiritual issue that is also ironic: in an age where people have more spiritual options than ever, and more places to get them, there is a gnawing hunger for the real spiritual bread that gives life.
In CS Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Edmund finds his way to the mythical land of Narnia through a magic wardrobe and meets the White Witch, who through magic has made Narnia “always winter, but never Christmas.” She plies him with Turkish Delight, a delishes confection. Unfortunately, Turkish Delight increases his hunger rather than satisfying it, but for the wrong things: power over others. Ultimately, Edmund will be redeemed from the White Witch’s clutches through the sacrifice of Aslan, the Christ figure in the story in the form of a lion. Aslan gives his flesh and blood for Edmund’s life. When Jesus tells us he is the Bread of Life, he gives us an opportunity to embrace an authentic existence, drawing us into a sharing of his death, where true life comes in giving ourselves away. You see, we need to take all of Jesus into ourselves because Jesus gives all of himself to us.
This life that Jesus offers is not just some future time when God brings all to completion. It is available to us each day, and we experience that deeper life when we worship together regularly, read the Bible together, pray together, create community together, and give ourselves away together. On his death bed, the last thing Martin Luther said was “we are all beggars.” DT Niles added to this by saying that Christianity is simply one beggar telling another beggar where to find food. So as we gather around the altar and take in the very life of Jesus, offered to us, he challenges us to face those things we “eat” that don’t give life and invites us to partake in those things that do. For Jesus is the Bread of Life for today. Amen.
John 6.35-59
Epiphany 6 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 16, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
“I am the living bread that came down from heaven … and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6.51)
Today, we have the first of seven “I am” sayings in John’s gospel, rich images for God’s provision, that tell something of who Jesus is and what God has sent him to do. Like much of John’s Gospel, we have an extended conversation following a sign. In this case the sign is the feeding of 5 thousand, where Jesus multiplies five loaves of bread and two fish while have 12 baskets left over. After being fed, the multitude follows Jesus across the Sea of Galilee where Jesus has fled because they want to make him king. Jesus points out their misunderstanding about the feeding and invites them into a deeper faith. As Jesus does so, he challenges their current understanding of a relationship with God. Furthermore, although it’s outside of today’s reading, Jesus’ sayings are so radical that some choose to leave and follow him no longer.
One reason some people find Jesus hard to swallow is his reference to eating his flesh and blood. Many of you see the obvious connection to Holy Communion in these verses, as did the early church, but for 1st century Jews, drinking blood was an abominable and forbidden act. But there are two other aspects to Jesus as the bread of life that are important: first, when Jesus uses the term “flesh and blood,” a term meaning the whole person, he means we need all of him. We don’t have the option to pick and choose those parts of Jesus we want and discard the rest like some kind of buffet. Second, as Jesus talks about giving himself for the life of the world there is an implied commitment that those of us who follow Jesus and feed on him for life are to give ourselves away, too.
As we reflect on this image of Jesus as the Bread of Life, have you ever stopped to think about how much we focus on food and drink in our society? Billions of dollars are spent on advertising, meals at restaurants are super-sized and all you can eat buffets flourish while our food pantries are seeing record usage and some schoolchildren are going hungry. Furthermore, the First Lady, Michelle Obama, is focusing on childhood obesity while incidents of bulimia and anorexia run rampant. I think this food folly is a symptom of a deeper spiritual issue that is also ironic: in an age where people have more spiritual options than ever, and more places to get them, there is a gnawing hunger for the real spiritual bread that gives life.
In CS Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Edmund finds his way to the mythical land of Narnia through a magic wardrobe and meets the White Witch, who through magic has made Narnia “always winter, but never Christmas.” She plies him with Turkish Delight, a delishes confection. Unfortunately, Turkish Delight increases his hunger rather than satisfying it, but for the wrong things: power over others. Ultimately, Edmund will be redeemed from the White Witch’s clutches through the sacrifice of Aslan, the Christ figure in the story in the form of a lion. Aslan gives his flesh and blood for Edmund’s life. When Jesus tells us he is the Bread of Life, he gives us an opportunity to embrace an authentic existence, drawing us into a sharing of his death, where true life comes in giving ourselves away. You see, we need to take all of Jesus into ourselves because Jesus gives all of himself to us.
This life that Jesus offers is not just some future time when God brings all to completion. It is available to us each day, and we experience that deeper life when we worship together regularly, read the Bible together, pray together, create community together, and give ourselves away together. On his death bed, the last thing Martin Luther said was “we are all beggars.” DT Niles added to this by saying that Christianity is simply one beggar telling another beggar where to find food. So as we gather around the altar and take in the very life of Jesus, offered to us, he challenges us to face those things we “eat” that don’t give life and invites us to partake in those things that do. For Jesus is the Bread of Life for today. Amen.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
"Beyond Signs and Wonders" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Beyond Signs and Wonders
Epiphany 5 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 9, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 4.46 – 5.18
“Unless you people are dazzled by a miracle, you refuse to believe.” (John 4.48, The Message)
Our text gives us two quite different healing stories. In the first, a royal official begs Jesus to heal his son. Initially rebuffed, the official persists and Jesus tells him his son will live, sending him on his way. Many of us who have had sick children or ill loved ones can relate. I had to bring our youngest daughter Amy to the emergency room when she was about seven, suffering from a pain in her hip. It turned out she had a hip infection. Our oldest daughter Angela suffered through several bouts of bronchitis until we finally told the doctor that we needed to get some answers. Fortunately, he agreed and we determined she had moderate to severe asthma and allergies. The second healing has a man with a chronic illness whom Jesus seemingly picks at random. We’re not sure he wants to be healed, and when Jesus does so, breaking Sabbath laws, the man appears ungrateful. Clearly has no idea who Jesus is and throws him under the bus with the religious leaders of the day.
These two stories highlight an important theme in John: the place of signs in the life of faith. Jesus will perform seven signs in John—or eight depending on how you count—and clearly he is of two minds about them. Signs are instrumental in revealing something of who Jesus is and what God has sent him to do. But he is rightly concerned because the ooh and ah effect of the miracles becomes distracting to people. They start talking about the signs and looking for them rather than what they point to. And in the case of the paralyzed man and the religious leaders, signs can sometimes blind us to who Jesus is.
I don’t think we have changed much since Jesus’ time in our need for and fascination with signs. I was reminded by that Wednesday night when someone mentioned (yet another) book on Revelation. People want to read those signs into today. And hardly a day goes by when someone sees the face of Jesus in a piece of toast or a bit of fungus. Furthermore, I’ve had a number of people ask me about dreams or visions of loved ones and what their meaning might be. On one level, it is understandable: we all want to know the way ahead or the next step forward. Should I take that job? Is this the person I’m supposed to marry? Where should I go to school?
There are two things about signs that our text and John’s gospel wants us to know. The first is that the purpose of signs is to point toward Jesus, who he is, and what he came to do. In today’s stories, the signs of healing point to Jesus’ opposition to those things that prevent the abundant life God wishes for all of creation and his ability to restore health and life to us. In fact, it is clear in John’s gospel that Jesus himself is a sign of God’s love and mercy. Moreover, the signs that Jesus does, pointing to himself, say “I am here,” not “I will fix this.”
That brings us to the second thing about the signs Jesus does: the signs often come in ways that we don’t expect and almost always give us what we need, not what we want or look for. They often come into our places of brokenness rather than wholeness, into our darkness rather than our light. It took me eight years to get to seminary and I looked for signs along the way. None of the came as expected. One sign came when I interviewed for the “perfect” job and was not hired. Another came from an aunt who pledged support where none was expected. And a third sign came from a sister who reminded me, when I was whining about my age, that I would be 42 whether I went to seminary or not so I might as well do what God is calling me to do.
Of course, the sign that sums all of this up and in which Jesus’ identity and mission is most perfectly captured is the cross. Through Jesus’ death, God shows completely God’s love for us. We know signs are from God when they point to Jesus and the love God has for us. They point the way forward when they are not what we ask for, but what we need. And we know they are true when they come to us in the midst of our difficulties and trials. In other words, faith (a verb in John) is not an answer, but a way of living. Jesus is here. Amen.
Epiphany 5 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 9, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 4.46 – 5.18
“Unless you people are dazzled by a miracle, you refuse to believe.” (John 4.48, The Message)
Our text gives us two quite different healing stories. In the first, a royal official begs Jesus to heal his son. Initially rebuffed, the official persists and Jesus tells him his son will live, sending him on his way. Many of us who have had sick children or ill loved ones can relate. I had to bring our youngest daughter Amy to the emergency room when she was about seven, suffering from a pain in her hip. It turned out she had a hip infection. Our oldest daughter Angela suffered through several bouts of bronchitis until we finally told the doctor that we needed to get some answers. Fortunately, he agreed and we determined she had moderate to severe asthma and allergies. The second healing has a man with a chronic illness whom Jesus seemingly picks at random. We’re not sure he wants to be healed, and when Jesus does so, breaking Sabbath laws, the man appears ungrateful. Clearly has no idea who Jesus is and throws him under the bus with the religious leaders of the day.
These two stories highlight an important theme in John: the place of signs in the life of faith. Jesus will perform seven signs in John—or eight depending on how you count—and clearly he is of two minds about them. Signs are instrumental in revealing something of who Jesus is and what God has sent him to do. But he is rightly concerned because the ooh and ah effect of the miracles becomes distracting to people. They start talking about the signs and looking for them rather than what they point to. And in the case of the paralyzed man and the religious leaders, signs can sometimes blind us to who Jesus is.
I don’t think we have changed much since Jesus’ time in our need for and fascination with signs. I was reminded by that Wednesday night when someone mentioned (yet another) book on Revelation. People want to read those signs into today. And hardly a day goes by when someone sees the face of Jesus in a piece of toast or a bit of fungus. Furthermore, I’ve had a number of people ask me about dreams or visions of loved ones and what their meaning might be. On one level, it is understandable: we all want to know the way ahead or the next step forward. Should I take that job? Is this the person I’m supposed to marry? Where should I go to school?
There are two things about signs that our text and John’s gospel wants us to know. The first is that the purpose of signs is to point toward Jesus, who he is, and what he came to do. In today’s stories, the signs of healing point to Jesus’ opposition to those things that prevent the abundant life God wishes for all of creation and his ability to restore health and life to us. In fact, it is clear in John’s gospel that Jesus himself is a sign of God’s love and mercy. Moreover, the signs that Jesus does, pointing to himself, say “I am here,” not “I will fix this.”
That brings us to the second thing about the signs Jesus does: the signs often come in ways that we don’t expect and almost always give us what we need, not what we want or look for. They often come into our places of brokenness rather than wholeness, into our darkness rather than our light. It took me eight years to get to seminary and I looked for signs along the way. None of the came as expected. One sign came when I interviewed for the “perfect” job and was not hired. Another came from an aunt who pledged support where none was expected. And a third sign came from a sister who reminded me, when I was whining about my age, that I would be 42 whether I went to seminary or not so I might as well do what God is calling me to do.
Of course, the sign that sums all of this up and in which Jesus’ identity and mission is most perfectly captured is the cross. Through Jesus’ death, God shows completely God’s love for us. We know signs are from God when they point to Jesus and the love God has for us. They point the way forward when they are not what we ask for, but what we need. And we know they are true when they come to us in the midst of our difficulties and trials. In other words, faith (a verb in John) is not an answer, but a way of living. Jesus is here. Amen.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
"Come and See, Part 2" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
Come and See, Part 2
Epiphany 4 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 2, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 4.1-42
Four weeks ago we heard similar words on the lips of Jesus in chapter 1. He invited those two disciples of John the Baptist to “come and see” in response to their question about where he was staying. Then a few verses later it is Philip who issues a similar invitation in response to Nathaniel’s rather cynical question about whether anything good could come from Nazareth, Jesus’ hometown.
So, given the circumstances of today’s reading, it is tempting to hear the Samaritan woman’s words to her neighbors as a mixture of wonder and awe at Jesus’ abilities in somewhat the same category as a nightclub psychic or carnival huckster. A more generous reading would be that Jesus, as God’s Son, certainly has uncanny knowledge about people and events, but that is getting ahead of ourselves. Even the woman’s earlier declaration of Jesus as a prophet, while carrying more import, misses the mark. It is helpful to know that unlike the Jews, who believed the Messiah would be a warrior king, the Samaritans believed the Messiah would be a prophet like Moses.
Having said all that, this is an absurd conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman, but not in the way you might think. It’s absurd because it’s an authentic conversation that never should have happened in the first place.
Literarily speaking, much like the religious leader Nicodemus whom we encountered last week in chapter 4, the Samaritan woman acts as a foil for Jesus’ unfolding revelation of himself and his mission. Yet, she is much more than a stock character who exists solely to highlight Jesus’ identity and purpose. In contrast to Nicodemus in last week’s reading, not only is she unnamed, a woman of no standing, and a despised Samaritan, she comes during the light instead of darkness. (Here it’s important to remember how powerful the images of light and darkness are in John’s gospel.) Furthermore, instead of fading away into the night like Nicodemus, she runs to her townsfolk bearing witness to Jesus: “Come and see a man who told me everything that I have ever done!”
I really life Eugene Peterson’s translation of this verse in The Message: “Come and see someone who knows me inside and out.” I imagine she could have added: “Come and see someone who takes the time to listen and talk to me. Come and see someone who meets me where I am in my life of faith, but shows me so much more. Come and see someone who listens and respects my deep questions of faith. Come and see someone who doesn’t care what my past is, only my future. Come and see someone who challenges me to live a greater life than the one I am living. Come and see someone who, because he is willing to give himself away, shows me that true life is going to be found in giving myself away, too.
She might have added, “Come and see the one who sees us first, who seeks us out before we ever go through the trouble of looking for him. Come and see someone who knows that we are thirsty before we even know it ourselves and gives us the kind of water in which true life is found.” Many of these revelations about Jesus may not have come in that moment and clearly her life of faith is budding and not in full bloom. Yet even the beginning of faith is powerful when shared with someone else.
I’ve mentioned coming back to the church and rededicating my life to Christ. It was a time of continued questioning and growth and I had only an inkling knowing what I didn’t know.
Around that time I was transferred to Chicago with Minnesota Fabrics and one night I was invited to the home of one of my employees, Marty. She and her husband, Floyd, had a good friend from Michigan visiting and thought we’d enjoy each others’ company. I still don’t know how it happened, but late that night around the dinner table we began talking about God, Jesus, the church, and my new journey of faith. I certainly didn’t go there intending to share my faith, but all three, especially Mark, decided to go deeper in their lives of faith.
It’s important to note that it’s not about us; it’s about what God is doing in, with, and through us. The Samaritan woman shows the power of leading through imperfections, what God can make in our most imperfect lives. What would that look like in your life? Where Jesus has seen you first and addressed your thirst? What would you say to a friend, neighbor, or co-worker? Come and see someone who … what? You could even say, “You know, my pastor raised this question in his sermon the other day. Do you mind if I run it by you?” See what happens; it’s not as absurd as you might think. God bless you this week as you are strengthened by the one who knows us inside and out, who gives you the water of life. Amen.
Epiphany 4 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 2, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 4.1-42
Come and see someone who told me everything that I have ever done! John 4.29
Four weeks ago we heard similar words on the lips of Jesus in chapter 1. He invited those two disciples of John the Baptist to “come and see” in response to their question about where he was staying. Then a few verses later it is Philip who issues a similar invitation in response to Nathaniel’s rather cynical question about whether anything good could come from Nazareth, Jesus’ hometown.
So, given the circumstances of today’s reading, it is tempting to hear the Samaritan woman’s words to her neighbors as a mixture of wonder and awe at Jesus’ abilities in somewhat the same category as a nightclub psychic or carnival huckster. A more generous reading would be that Jesus, as God’s Son, certainly has uncanny knowledge about people and events, but that is getting ahead of ourselves. Even the woman’s earlier declaration of Jesus as a prophet, while carrying more import, misses the mark. It is helpful to know that unlike the Jews, who believed the Messiah would be a warrior king, the Samaritans believed the Messiah would be a prophet like Moses.
Having said all that, this is an absurd conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman, but not in the way you might think. It’s absurd because it’s an authentic conversation that never should have happened in the first place.
Literarily speaking, much like the religious leader Nicodemus whom we encountered last week in chapter 4, the Samaritan woman acts as a foil for Jesus’ unfolding revelation of himself and his mission. Yet, she is much more than a stock character who exists solely to highlight Jesus’ identity and purpose. In contrast to Nicodemus in last week’s reading, not only is she unnamed, a woman of no standing, and a despised Samaritan, she comes during the light instead of darkness. (Here it’s important to remember how powerful the images of light and darkness are in John’s gospel.) Furthermore, instead of fading away into the night like Nicodemus, she runs to her townsfolk bearing witness to Jesus: “Come and see a man who told me everything that I have ever done!”
I really life Eugene Peterson’s translation of this verse in The Message: “Come and see someone who knows me inside and out.” I imagine she could have added: “Come and see someone who takes the time to listen and talk to me. Come and see someone who meets me where I am in my life of faith, but shows me so much more. Come and see someone who listens and respects my deep questions of faith. Come and see someone who doesn’t care what my past is, only my future. Come and see someone who challenges me to live a greater life than the one I am living. Come and see someone who, because he is willing to give himself away, shows me that true life is going to be found in giving myself away, too.
She might have added, “Come and see the one who sees us first, who seeks us out before we ever go through the trouble of looking for him. Come and see someone who knows that we are thirsty before we even know it ourselves and gives us the kind of water in which true life is found.” Many of these revelations about Jesus may not have come in that moment and clearly her life of faith is budding and not in full bloom. Yet even the beginning of faith is powerful when shared with someone else.
I’ve mentioned coming back to the church and rededicating my life to Christ. It was a time of continued questioning and growth and I had only an inkling knowing what I didn’t know.
Around that time I was transferred to Chicago with Minnesota Fabrics and one night I was invited to the home of one of my employees, Marty. She and her husband, Floyd, had a good friend from Michigan visiting and thought we’d enjoy each others’ company. I still don’t know how it happened, but late that night around the dinner table we began talking about God, Jesus, the church, and my new journey of faith. I certainly didn’t go there intending to share my faith, but all three, especially Mark, decided to go deeper in their lives of faith.
It’s important to note that it’s not about us; it’s about what God is doing in, with, and through us. The Samaritan woman shows the power of leading through imperfections, what God can make in our most imperfect lives. What would that look like in your life? Where Jesus has seen you first and addressed your thirst? What would you say to a friend, neighbor, or co-worker? Come and see someone who … what? You could even say, “You know, my pastor raised this question in his sermon the other day. Do you mind if I run it by you?” See what happens; it’s not as absurd as you might think. God bless you this week as you are strengthened by the one who knows us inside and out, who gives you the water of life. Amen.
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