Listen to Him
Transfiguration – Narrative Lectionary 1
Grace, Mankato, MN
February 15, 2015
Matthew 16.21-17.9
“This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
A number of years ago during a routine physical I was given a hearing test. At its completion, I was asked by the nurse if I was married. Replying yes, the nurse said, “Well, you can tell your wife your hearing is just fine.” Through the years whenever I’ve been accused of not listening, I’ve learned to ask my wife, “Was I looking at you when you said that?” About 4.5 years ago this hearing thing stopped being funny when I experienced Idiopathic Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss, a condition for which there is no explanation or treatment. Ringing in my ears, background noise and diminished range make hearing and listening a challenge every day.
It may have been my hearing struggles that made me focus on God’s command in today’s reading, “listen to him!” We’ve reached a pivotal point in Matthew’s gospel, one that both looks back and forward. Five weeks ago on the first Sunday after Epiphany at Jesus’ baptism, as Jesus was coming up out of the water, the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove alighted upon him and a voice from heaven said, “This is my son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Now we have a similar scene, except that Jesus is transfigured on the mountain and the divine cloud appears, adding the phrase, “listen to him!”
This past week in a number of places, I asked people what they thought it means to listen to Jesus. Pr. Collette Broady Grund mentioned a sermon she’d read by Barbara Brown Taylor. Taylor said that Jesus’ disciples needed to trust what they hear from Jesus, not what they see, because it’s the only way that they can make sense of what happens to Jesus. In the time to come they will see their master and friend be arrested, beaten and crucified on the cross. We all know that appearances, especially first impressions, can be deceiving. Nowhere is that more true than in the counter-cultural message of losing our life in order to find it.
This past Wednesday night I tossed the question out to the adults and confirmation students in our worship service. Becky Glaser said something simple, but profoundly theological: we have to give up ourselves in order to listen. When we listen to another person, our normal habit is to think ahead of what we are going to say next. Instead, we have to remove all thoughts and concentrate on what the other person is saying and meaning by what they say. In listening to Jesus, we have to shut out distractions, especially voices telling us life is found elsewhere. Here’s a small example: I struggle to do my daily devotions, being distracted by thinking about all I need to do. Sometimes I even fall asleep! Eliminating distractions is hard, but necessary in order to listen to Jesus.
Finally, Joyce Nelson reminded us that listening is not a passive affair with Jesus; we are to act on what we hear. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus has some hard things to say to us about the life of faith. We are to empty ourselves, take up the cross of Servanthood and follow the example Jesus set for us. What we hear Jesus teaching us about God’s kingdom is deeply connected to how we live our lives. In the coming weeks, Jesus will teach us about true humility, forgiveness, and the need to be alert. He will also remind us that God’s lavish grace that is meant for all people also demands a response from us.
This last week we learned of Kayla Mueller’s death, probably at the hands of her captors, ISIS. Kayla had gone to Syria to help ease the suffering of the thousands caught in this brutal conflict. She has said that, while other people see God in various places, she sees God in the suffering of others. So, she went to Syria in response to God’s call on her life, to ease suffering. In a little while, we’ll gather to eat omelets to support Edith White, serving in Togo and Benin West Africa and Global Eye Mission around the world. Not all of us are called to go to foreign places to serve God and others, but we are called to listen for what Jesus does call us to do. We can’t always trust we see, so we listen, cutting out the distractions and noise, actively listening. And when we stumble, which we know we’ll do, we know Jesus is there to pick us up, telling us not to be afraid, sending us out again. Listen to him. Amen.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
"Take Heart" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Take Heart
Epiphany 5 – Narrative Lectionary 1
February 8, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 14.13-33
We have jumped a long way from last week’s reading from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in 6 and our mediation on the Lord’s Prayer. In this current section, the rejection of Jesus in his hometown and the continuing opposition from the religious leaders prompts him to stress teaching to his disciples. He does this while healing and performing wonders. Here, we encounter two well-known miracle stories, each of which we could feed on with much left over. Both of these have generated much conversation, particularly about “did this really happen.” I think more fruitful exploration involves asking what the readings say about God and how we participate in God’s ongoing acts of creation.
Let us pray…
I was reminded of a joke this past week. It seems there was a scientist who claimed that God was nothing special because this scientist had learned how to create a human being, just as God did. When challenged to prove his claim, the scientist proceeded to so by saying, “First you take some dirt…” All of a sudden, a voice from heaven interrupted the scientist saying, “Use your own dirt.” So it was I read with interest the Free Press story about the English Parliament. It was voting to allow genetic scientists to experiment with the creation of an embryo from three parents to avoid genetic abnormalities. This news prompts a lot of theological, social and moral questions that are very important, but it also highlights our ongoing participation in God’s ongoing creative work.
That’s the commonality that links the two wonder stories in today’s reading. One thing that links these two miracle stories is that both look back to Genesis 1 and the creation story. When Jesus tells the disciples to feed the crowds and they claim they have nothing, except five loaves and two fish, they have no idea that the very creator who formed the universe out of nothing, making all the life giving food in the process, can take their nothing and make a lot of something out of it. And when they are in the small boat battling the chaotic forces of nature that threaten to overwhelm them, they will see this same creator who tamed the chaos at creation do the same again on the Sea of Galilee.
I think that these two stories typify the Christian life, what it is like to be caught between faith and doubt. Isn’t it interesting how the same disciples who witnessed the abundant feeding of the multitude are now scared stiff? Yet, note that Jesus doesn’t say they have no faith; he says they have little faith. But as we know, it only takes the faith of a mustard seed, the smallest of seeds, through which Jesus does extraordinary things. That’s the kind of faith that can uproot mountains and throw them into the sea.
Furthermore, remember earlier in Matthew, when Jesus was tempted by Satan. We noted that his mocking, “If you are the Son of God” can be translated, “Since you are the Son of God,” a confession of faith. When Jesus comes to his disciples on the water, a better translation of “It is I” is “I am,” the divine name of God. Peter in effect says the same thing here: “Since you are, command me to come and be with you.”
Author, theologian and preacher par excellence Barbara Brown Taylor puts legs to these stories by admonishing us to “stop waiting for a miracle and participate in one instead.: For the same creator who brought order out of chaos at creation still does so today. The one who made the universe out of nothing, provided food at creation and manna in the wilderness for the Israelites, and fed the multitudes still does, taking our nothing and make abundant something. And as we look forward in Matthew to the Lord’s Last Supper, his crucifixion and death, we remember that this same God can bring life out of death. That’s a lot of something out of nothing.
So we ask ourselves, where is God overcoming our fear, sending us out into uncharted waters? When we stumble, where is God taking hold of us in forgiveness, mercy, love and grace, ready to make something out of our nothing? As my former colleague, Pr. Michelle Rem often asked, “Can we dream a dream so big only God can fulfill it?” My brothers and sisters, take heart, for the Lord of creation continues do wondrous things, calling us to risks ourselves in the going creative work, taking our nothing and making incredible something. Amen.
Epiphany 5 – Narrative Lectionary 1
February 8, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 14.13-33
We have jumped a long way from last week’s reading from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in 6 and our mediation on the Lord’s Prayer. In this current section, the rejection of Jesus in his hometown and the continuing opposition from the religious leaders prompts him to stress teaching to his disciples. He does this while healing and performing wonders. Here, we encounter two well-known miracle stories, each of which we could feed on with much left over. Both of these have generated much conversation, particularly about “did this really happen.” I think more fruitful exploration involves asking what the readings say about God and how we participate in God’s ongoing acts of creation.
Let us pray…
I was reminded of a joke this past week. It seems there was a scientist who claimed that God was nothing special because this scientist had learned how to create a human being, just as God did. When challenged to prove his claim, the scientist proceeded to so by saying, “First you take some dirt…” All of a sudden, a voice from heaven interrupted the scientist saying, “Use your own dirt.” So it was I read with interest the Free Press story about the English Parliament. It was voting to allow genetic scientists to experiment with the creation of an embryo from three parents to avoid genetic abnormalities. This news prompts a lot of theological, social and moral questions that are very important, but it also highlights our ongoing participation in God’s ongoing creative work.
That’s the commonality that links the two wonder stories in today’s reading. One thing that links these two miracle stories is that both look back to Genesis 1 and the creation story. When Jesus tells the disciples to feed the crowds and they claim they have nothing, except five loaves and two fish, they have no idea that the very creator who formed the universe out of nothing, making all the life giving food in the process, can take their nothing and make a lot of something out of it. And when they are in the small boat battling the chaotic forces of nature that threaten to overwhelm them, they will see this same creator who tamed the chaos at creation do the same again on the Sea of Galilee.
I think that these two stories typify the Christian life, what it is like to be caught between faith and doubt. Isn’t it interesting how the same disciples who witnessed the abundant feeding of the multitude are now scared stiff? Yet, note that Jesus doesn’t say they have no faith; he says they have little faith. But as we know, it only takes the faith of a mustard seed, the smallest of seeds, through which Jesus does extraordinary things. That’s the kind of faith that can uproot mountains and throw them into the sea.
Furthermore, remember earlier in Matthew, when Jesus was tempted by Satan. We noted that his mocking, “If you are the Son of God” can be translated, “Since you are the Son of God,” a confession of faith. When Jesus comes to his disciples on the water, a better translation of “It is I” is “I am,” the divine name of God. Peter in effect says the same thing here: “Since you are, command me to come and be with you.”
Author, theologian and preacher par excellence Barbara Brown Taylor puts legs to these stories by admonishing us to “stop waiting for a miracle and participate in one instead.: For the same creator who brought order out of chaos at creation still does so today. The one who made the universe out of nothing, provided food at creation and manna in the wilderness for the Israelites, and fed the multitudes still does, taking our nothing and make abundant something. And as we look forward in Matthew to the Lord’s Last Supper, his crucifixion and death, we remember that this same God can bring life out of death. That’s a lot of something out of nothing.
So we ask ourselves, where is God overcoming our fear, sending us out into uncharted waters? When we stumble, where is God taking hold of us in forgiveness, mercy, love and grace, ready to make something out of our nothing? As my former colleague, Pr. Michelle Rem often asked, “Can we dream a dream so big only God can fulfill it?” My brothers and sisters, take heart, for the Lord of creation continues do wondrous things, calling us to risks ourselves in the going creative work, taking our nothing and making incredible something. Amen.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
"The Heart of Prayer" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
The Heart of Prayer
Epiphany 4
February 1, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 6.7-21
Today’s focus scripture is from Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” It is the first, largest, and arguably one of most important blocks of teaching in Matthew’s gospel, and perhaps the New Testament, with the possible exception of his Farewell Discourse in John. As we noted last week, Jesus assumes the position of authority and revelation on the mountain. In doing this and other things, Matthew portrays him as a prophet like Moses. Yet, Jesus is unique because, instead of receiving the Law, Jesus is shown to be the right interpreter of the Law. He is not abolishing the Law but instead insisting that his followers pursue the greater righteous the interpretation of the Law demands. Interestingly, the Lord’s Prayer stands at the center of this sermon. Today’s message explores why this is important for us.
Let us pray…
A number of experiences shaped my understanding of prayer in general and the Lord’s Prayer in particular. One experience occurred almost 20 years when I was visiting a young woman in a nursing home while on internship. This woman had Cerebral Palsy and was confined to a wheelchair. She was unable to communicate much, though she laughed heartily when I told her I was a registered Girl Scout. Uncomfortable because we couldn’t talk much, I plowed ahead with giving her Communion. When I came to the Lord’s Prayer I became aware she was saying the it right along with me. Certainly, it was not as polished, but it was there nonetheless. This was the first of many instances showing me the power of the prayer our Lord taught us.
A second experience occurred during a community worship service where I had been invited to preach. I think it was a high school Baccalaureate service. Shortly after my sermon, another pastor was tasked with saying a prayer. As he did so, I became aware that he was offering a subtle but unmistakable rebuttal and commentary to my sermon. I was reminded of a line I had come across a few years earlier about preachers and prayer: “Open your eyes, brother, you’re preaching, not praying.”
These and many other experiences have shown me two things: the difficulty of prayer and the power of the Lord’s Prayer. Why else is there such a discomfort about prayer and vehement conversation about which version we use. Perhaps the power of the Lord’s Prayer is what makes us uncomfortable, for at the heart of the Lord’s Prayer we declare that we want to align ourselves and our wills most fully with God’s. We ask for the coming of his reign here on earth. Frankly, I think that’s the scariest thing we can pray for, “Your kingdom come, your will be done.” Look where it got Jesus as he prayed that prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was crucified on a cross. Frederick Buechner says it as only he can: “To speak these words is to invite the tiger out of the cage, to unleash a power that makes atomic power look like a warm breeze.”
Yet, it’s the most important prayer to pray because we acknowledge that neither we nor the world is not as it ought to be and we ask God to make it and us right. A colleague, Pr. Collette Broady Grund put it this way: “I don’t always like who I am either, so I need God to make me different.” Five hundred years earlier, Martin Luther had this to say: we don’t pray to God to tell God what we want (because God already knows) but to align ourselves with God. This is one of the hardest things about the life of faith, because many things stand in the way of aligning our will to God’s in prayer. For me, one thing that stands in the way is the busy-ness of my life and another is being a pastor. I spend so much time doing these things “professionally” that it’s hard to do them as a regular person. What about you? What stands in the way between you and God?
In a way of helping, I want to end with a Thomas Merton quote that was shared with me the other day. It may help you as you seek to navigate around those things that get in the as you grow closer to God. Let us pray it together:
“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”
― Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude
Epiphany 4
February 1, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 6.7-21
Today’s focus scripture is from Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” It is the first, largest, and arguably one of most important blocks of teaching in Matthew’s gospel, and perhaps the New Testament, with the possible exception of his Farewell Discourse in John. As we noted last week, Jesus assumes the position of authority and revelation on the mountain. In doing this and other things, Matthew portrays him as a prophet like Moses. Yet, Jesus is unique because, instead of receiving the Law, Jesus is shown to be the right interpreter of the Law. He is not abolishing the Law but instead insisting that his followers pursue the greater righteous the interpretation of the Law demands. Interestingly, the Lord’s Prayer stands at the center of this sermon. Today’s message explores why this is important for us.
Let us pray…
A number of experiences shaped my understanding of prayer in general and the Lord’s Prayer in particular. One experience occurred almost 20 years when I was visiting a young woman in a nursing home while on internship. This woman had Cerebral Palsy and was confined to a wheelchair. She was unable to communicate much, though she laughed heartily when I told her I was a registered Girl Scout. Uncomfortable because we couldn’t talk much, I plowed ahead with giving her Communion. When I came to the Lord’s Prayer I became aware she was saying the it right along with me. Certainly, it was not as polished, but it was there nonetheless. This was the first of many instances showing me the power of the prayer our Lord taught us.
A second experience occurred during a community worship service where I had been invited to preach. I think it was a high school Baccalaureate service. Shortly after my sermon, another pastor was tasked with saying a prayer. As he did so, I became aware that he was offering a subtle but unmistakable rebuttal and commentary to my sermon. I was reminded of a line I had come across a few years earlier about preachers and prayer: “Open your eyes, brother, you’re preaching, not praying.”
These and many other experiences have shown me two things: the difficulty of prayer and the power of the Lord’s Prayer. Why else is there such a discomfort about prayer and vehement conversation about which version we use. Perhaps the power of the Lord’s Prayer is what makes us uncomfortable, for at the heart of the Lord’s Prayer we declare that we want to align ourselves and our wills most fully with God’s. We ask for the coming of his reign here on earth. Frankly, I think that’s the scariest thing we can pray for, “Your kingdom come, your will be done.” Look where it got Jesus as he prayed that prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was crucified on a cross. Frederick Buechner says it as only he can: “To speak these words is to invite the tiger out of the cage, to unleash a power that makes atomic power look like a warm breeze.”
Yet, it’s the most important prayer to pray because we acknowledge that neither we nor the world is not as it ought to be and we ask God to make it and us right. A colleague, Pr. Collette Broady Grund put it this way: “I don’t always like who I am either, so I need God to make me different.” Five hundred years earlier, Martin Luther had this to say: we don’t pray to God to tell God what we want (because God already knows) but to align ourselves with God. This is one of the hardest things about the life of faith, because many things stand in the way of aligning our will to God’s in prayer. For me, one thing that stands in the way is the busy-ness of my life and another is being a pastor. I spend so much time doing these things “professionally” that it’s hard to do them as a regular person. What about you? What stands in the way between you and God?
In a way of helping, I want to end with a Thomas Merton quote that was shared with me the other day. It may help you as you seek to navigate around those things that get in the as you grow closer to God. Let us pray it together:
“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”
― Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude
Sunday, January 25, 2015
"You Are Blessed" - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Epiphanay
You Are Blessed
Epiphany 3 – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 25, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 5.1-20
Last Sunday I had the privilege of participating in the interfaith candle lighting peace service at 1st Congregational Church. Thank you to those of you who attended as well. It was a good time to stand witness to our common desire for peace. As a few of us pastors were standing around waiting for the service to begin, I indulged one of my weaknesses: denominational snark. Denominational snark is poking good-natured fun at each of our distinctives as churches.
For example, I enjoy tweaking Presbyterian noses over predestination, the doctrine that says God destines certain folk to heaven and others, by default, to hell. Taking it a bit farther, I’ll say something like, “I’ll bet you’re glad that’s over.” With Methodists, I like to tweak their noses on their emphasis on holiness leading to Perfection, the idea that we can attain perfection in this life. To them I’ll say, “How’s that working for you?”
Now, you need to know that we Lutherans aren’t immune from denominational snark. For we who are Lutheran, the doctrine of Justification is so thoroughly ingrained (we saved by grace through faith, not of our own doing but as a free gift from gift) that we break out in hives over anything that smells of works righteousness, that we can earn our way to heaven. But, as I told my colleagues on Sunday, we need to get over that, because frankly, what we do matters. In other words, works count.
Today’s scripture is the beginning of the first and arguably the greatest block of Jesus’ teaching anywhere. The Sermon on the Mount firmly establishes Jesus as one who has authority like Moses. Like Moses, Jesus is up on the mountain, a place of revelation. Yet, instead of receiving the word from God on the mountain, Jesus teaches its proper interpretation. In fact, what is ironic is that Jesus would agree with the religious leaders that what we do makes a difference. However, Jesus disagrees with them about what that means, mostly because they have different starting points to talk about it.
The religious leaders start with the law, the things that they are asked to do because they are Jews living under the Mosaic covenant that God established. While Jesus doesn’t dismiss these rules and obligations—and even agrees they are important—he starts elsewhere. Now, here’s where reading the Bible as a story helps, because we remember what happens in Jesus’ baptism two weeks ago. God declared that Jesus was the Beloved Son and we learned that we are Beloved Children, too. The fact that we are God’s Beloved Children profoundly impacts how we live our lives in the world. Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Be salt” or “Be light!” Rather, Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.”
This declaration of our identity helps us to understand the kind of people that Jesus calls blessed, and they are not your usual suspects. Frankly, many of us (me included) use the word blessing incorrectly and almost frivolously. We take being blessed to means we have received something good. It’s true that being blessed is a sign of God’s favor, but what about people who have bad things happen to them? Are they not blessed? However, as Mike Baughman reminds us, “A blessing from God is more about being used by God than getting cool stuff.”
Now, this is by no means easy in our lives. Other commentators have noted that there is something about our God given identity that is somewhat mysterious, , not obvious and even hidden. In fact, other people may see God working in us more than we do. Our identity as God’s beloved is something of a mystery to us, because we have no idea what God might do with us or through us. Yet, in this rough and tumble world where we can get beaten up and broken, the good news is that God can not only use us despite what happens to us; God can use us because of what happens to us.
So, blessed are you who have suffered cancer and all sorts of physical challenges yet you reach out to others going through similar circumstances. Blessed are you who have experienced grief and loss and risk becoming overwhelmed again by embracing others who are doing the same. I hope you all can stay for the annual meeting because we’ll see more ways that God has blessed us by working in, with and through our lives. Meanwhile, blessed are you who connect and work for peace with people of all faiths, despite and maybe because of your snarky pastor. For this is God’s future kingdom breaking into today. Amen.
Epiphany 3 – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 25, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 5.1-20
Last Sunday I had the privilege of participating in the interfaith candle lighting peace service at 1st Congregational Church. Thank you to those of you who attended as well. It was a good time to stand witness to our common desire for peace. As a few of us pastors were standing around waiting for the service to begin, I indulged one of my weaknesses: denominational snark. Denominational snark is poking good-natured fun at each of our distinctives as churches.
For example, I enjoy tweaking Presbyterian noses over predestination, the doctrine that says God destines certain folk to heaven and others, by default, to hell. Taking it a bit farther, I’ll say something like, “I’ll bet you’re glad that’s over.” With Methodists, I like to tweak their noses on their emphasis on holiness leading to Perfection, the idea that we can attain perfection in this life. To them I’ll say, “How’s that working for you?”
Now, you need to know that we Lutherans aren’t immune from denominational snark. For we who are Lutheran, the doctrine of Justification is so thoroughly ingrained (we saved by grace through faith, not of our own doing but as a free gift from gift) that we break out in hives over anything that smells of works righteousness, that we can earn our way to heaven. But, as I told my colleagues on Sunday, we need to get over that, because frankly, what we do matters. In other words, works count.
Today’s scripture is the beginning of the first and arguably the greatest block of Jesus’ teaching anywhere. The Sermon on the Mount firmly establishes Jesus as one who has authority like Moses. Like Moses, Jesus is up on the mountain, a place of revelation. Yet, instead of receiving the word from God on the mountain, Jesus teaches its proper interpretation. In fact, what is ironic is that Jesus would agree with the religious leaders that what we do makes a difference. However, Jesus disagrees with them about what that means, mostly because they have different starting points to talk about it.
The religious leaders start with the law, the things that they are asked to do because they are Jews living under the Mosaic covenant that God established. While Jesus doesn’t dismiss these rules and obligations—and even agrees they are important—he starts elsewhere. Now, here’s where reading the Bible as a story helps, because we remember what happens in Jesus’ baptism two weeks ago. God declared that Jesus was the Beloved Son and we learned that we are Beloved Children, too. The fact that we are God’s Beloved Children profoundly impacts how we live our lives in the world. Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Be salt” or “Be light!” Rather, Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.”
This declaration of our identity helps us to understand the kind of people that Jesus calls blessed, and they are not your usual suspects. Frankly, many of us (me included) use the word blessing incorrectly and almost frivolously. We take being blessed to means we have received something good. It’s true that being blessed is a sign of God’s favor, but what about people who have bad things happen to them? Are they not blessed? However, as Mike Baughman reminds us, “A blessing from God is more about being used by God than getting cool stuff.”
Now, this is by no means easy in our lives. Other commentators have noted that there is something about our God given identity that is somewhat mysterious, , not obvious and even hidden. In fact, other people may see God working in us more than we do. Our identity as God’s beloved is something of a mystery to us, because we have no idea what God might do with us or through us. Yet, in this rough and tumble world where we can get beaten up and broken, the good news is that God can not only use us despite what happens to us; God can use us because of what happens to us.
So, blessed are you who have suffered cancer and all sorts of physical challenges yet you reach out to others going through similar circumstances. Blessed are you who have experienced grief and loss and risk becoming overwhelmed again by embracing others who are doing the same. I hope you all can stay for the annual meeting because we’ll see more ways that God has blessed us by working in, with and through our lives. Meanwhile, blessed are you who connect and work for peace with people of all faiths, despite and maybe because of your snarky pastor. For this is God’s future kingdom breaking into today. Amen.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
"Since We Are…" - Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany
Since We Are…
Epiphany 2 – NL 1
January 18, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 4.1-17
Alexander the Great was a ruler in the Macedonia area of ancient Greece. He ascended to the throne at the tender age of 20 and spent most of his ruling life in an unprecedented military campaign that greatly expanded his father’s already vast kingdom. By the age of thirty his kingdom stretched from Greece to Egypt and into ancient northwest India. Alexander was undefeated in battle and considered one of history’s most successful commanders. A legend has it that after one battle, a soldier was brought before him to answer for cowardice, having run away during the fighting. Alexander the Great asked the young man what his name was and, when the solider replied, “Alexander,” the general flew into a rage. “Either you change your behavior,” he said, “or your name.”
The connection between identity and behavior is at the heart of our reading today. Last week, in the story of Jesus’ baptism, we learned about Jesus’ identity as Beloved Son of God. We recognized that what this identity means for us and for the world would unfold throughout the gospel, ultimately leading to cross and tomb. We also heard the good news that, because of our baptisms into Christ, we are beloved children of God, too. Because we use the Narrative Lectionary, we can see something we don’t ordinarily see with the Revised Common Lectionary. We see that the same Spirit who descends on Jesus in the form of a dove in his baptism immediately leads Jesus out into the wilderness where he is tested by the devil following a 40 day fast. After his successful duel and recovery, Jesus begins his public ministry of preaching, teaching and healing, declaring that the Kingdom of Heaven has come near with his presence. In response, we are to repent, turn around and walk toward life.
Narratively speaking, the testing of Jesus must have something to do to bridge his identity as the Son of God and his public ministry. Some commentators speculate that Jesus was tested much the same way we test doctors or beauticians, to make sure they have what it takes to do what they are supposed to do. Even so, I think the testing isn’t to determine if Jesus is up to snuff; it’s for us to know that he is. Moreover, through the temptation story we learn that in Jesus’ battle with evil in the form of sin, death and the devil he will brook no compromise. We can see this by a legitimate retranslation of the conditional “if” in the lesson to “since.” This translation gives an entirely new perspective of what the devil is saying: “Since you are the Son of God…”
We are tempted (pardon the pun) to say that because Jesus resisted the testing and because we are baptized into Jesus that we should be able to do the same. There’s just one problem: us. As the writer Rita Mae Brown has said, “Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way myself.” Or, as the eminent theologian Pogo (the cartoon character by Walt Kelly) says, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” Part of being human means realizing that we are not complete in and of ourselves. It means that we have an emptiness inside us that we try to fill with stuff, all which may be good, but from which we expect too much.
However, since we are God’s beloved children, we now realize that, although our identity doesn’t take away the hardships of life, it does give us courage to stand in the midst and find true life. It means that we listen for the voice of God rather than the voice of the tempter. That’s why our time of confession is so important, to be honest with ourselves about those times when we allow our temptations to define us, but more importantly, to hear the words of forgiveness that give us hope. We hear the voice of love rather than the voice of condemnation. It’s also why we are determined to offer Holy Communion at every service, every week, because we need to hear that as beloved children we are fed and forgiven, strengthened for God’s work. Next week, we’ll hear more about what that work as God’s beloved might entail, but for now hear the voice that declares that, since you are God’s beloved you have new life, no matter what. Amen.
Epiphany 2 – NL 1
January 18, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 4.1-17
Alexander the Great was a ruler in the Macedonia area of ancient Greece. He ascended to the throne at the tender age of 20 and spent most of his ruling life in an unprecedented military campaign that greatly expanded his father’s already vast kingdom. By the age of thirty his kingdom stretched from Greece to Egypt and into ancient northwest India. Alexander was undefeated in battle and considered one of history’s most successful commanders. A legend has it that after one battle, a soldier was brought before him to answer for cowardice, having run away during the fighting. Alexander the Great asked the young man what his name was and, when the solider replied, “Alexander,” the general flew into a rage. “Either you change your behavior,” he said, “or your name.”
The connection between identity and behavior is at the heart of our reading today. Last week, in the story of Jesus’ baptism, we learned about Jesus’ identity as Beloved Son of God. We recognized that what this identity means for us and for the world would unfold throughout the gospel, ultimately leading to cross and tomb. We also heard the good news that, because of our baptisms into Christ, we are beloved children of God, too. Because we use the Narrative Lectionary, we can see something we don’t ordinarily see with the Revised Common Lectionary. We see that the same Spirit who descends on Jesus in the form of a dove in his baptism immediately leads Jesus out into the wilderness where he is tested by the devil following a 40 day fast. After his successful duel and recovery, Jesus begins his public ministry of preaching, teaching and healing, declaring that the Kingdom of Heaven has come near with his presence. In response, we are to repent, turn around and walk toward life.
Narratively speaking, the testing of Jesus must have something to do to bridge his identity as the Son of God and his public ministry. Some commentators speculate that Jesus was tested much the same way we test doctors or beauticians, to make sure they have what it takes to do what they are supposed to do. Even so, I think the testing isn’t to determine if Jesus is up to snuff; it’s for us to know that he is. Moreover, through the temptation story we learn that in Jesus’ battle with evil in the form of sin, death and the devil he will brook no compromise. We can see this by a legitimate retranslation of the conditional “if” in the lesson to “since.” This translation gives an entirely new perspective of what the devil is saying: “Since you are the Son of God…”
We are tempted (pardon the pun) to say that because Jesus resisted the testing and because we are baptized into Jesus that we should be able to do the same. There’s just one problem: us. As the writer Rita Mae Brown has said, “Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way myself.” Or, as the eminent theologian Pogo (the cartoon character by Walt Kelly) says, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” Part of being human means realizing that we are not complete in and of ourselves. It means that we have an emptiness inside us that we try to fill with stuff, all which may be good, but from which we expect too much.
However, since we are God’s beloved children, we now realize that, although our identity doesn’t take away the hardships of life, it does give us courage to stand in the midst and find true life. It means that we listen for the voice of God rather than the voice of the tempter. That’s why our time of confession is so important, to be honest with ourselves about those times when we allow our temptations to define us, but more importantly, to hear the words of forgiveness that give us hope. We hear the voice of love rather than the voice of condemnation. It’s also why we are determined to offer Holy Communion at every service, every week, because we need to hear that as beloved children we are fed and forgiven, strengthened for God’s work. Next week, we’ll hear more about what that work as God’s beloved might entail, but for now hear the voice that declares that, since you are God’s beloved you have new life, no matter what. Amen.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
"Who Am I?" - Sermon for the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday
Who Am I?
Baptism of Our Lord Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 11, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 3.1-17
When I was a teenager, I became aware of the notion that teenagers are supposed to have identity crises. So, from time to time, I’d look in the mirror and wonder what it was and when mine was coming. The truth of the matter is that I pretty much knew who I was: a good student who loved to read, someone who loved sports though wasn’t the greatest at them, with the exception I was becoming a pretty good bowler. Sure, I had my fair share of insecurities as any teenager would, but I really wasn’t insecure about whom I was. Unless I was totally oblivious, it seemed that the people I hung around with were about the same. Of course, we tried on various identities like we tried on leisure suits and Nehru jackets, but that’s not quite the same, is it?
Today we hear Matthew’s version of Jesus’ baptism, one that is narrated in one form or another in all four gospels. Jesus’ baptism has given rise to not a small amount of scholarly squabbles and speculation: what did Jesus know about himself and when did he know it? Did Jesus know from the beginning that he was God’s Son, did he have a growing awareness of it, or was this a big surprise at his baptism? As interesting as this question is, the important point is that Jesus’ identity as God’s Son is proclaimed loudly and clearly. Jesus is not only God’s beloved Son, but God is also well pleased with Jesus. Now, what is just as important is that what Jesus’ identity as God’s beloved Son means for the world will continue to unfold throughout the gospel, culminating in his death and resurrection.
When I meet with parents prior to baptizing their child, we talk about the many promises contained in baptism. One of the promises God makes to us is that through God’s grace we have a new identity. Like Jesus, God declares to us that we are beloved children and claimed by God forever. We learn what the Pharisees and Sadducees needed to learn, that our ancestry or credentials, though an important part of our identity, are not the most important thing about us. Whatever your name, whatever identity you own or is thrust upon you, the only important identity you have is child of God.
In the musical film version of Les Miserables, the main character Jean Valjean has been released from prison after 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread. He is not able to get work, so he steals from a bishop who has given him food and lodging. After being caught by the police and dragged back to the bishop, Valjean experiences grace at the bishop’s hand. Valjean is not only allowed to keep the silverware he has stolen, but is given silver candlesticks as well. Following this overwhelming act of forgiveness and grace, Valjean sings a soliloquy, “What Have I Done.” It ends with these lines: “As I stare into the void/To the whirlpool of my sin/I'll escape now from that world/ From the world of Jean Valjean/Jean Valjean is nothing now/Another story must begin!” Valjean’s new identity as a child beloved of God led to work in the world that served others. Later in the story, he will have to confront is old identity because another man has been unjustly accused of being him and stands condemned. Valjean sings another song, “Who Am I,” that highlights the struggle we all face in our identities that the world insists to impose upon us.
As Valjean learned, if we don’t see ourselves as beloved children of God, then we won’t see others that way, either. So, to make this real, I want you to take out your smart phones, take a selfie and send it or post it in social media with these words: “I am a beloved child of God and you are, too.” If you don’t have smart phone, during the passing of the peace I want you turn to someone nearby and say these same words, “You are a beloved child of God; peace be with you.” Then, when you come forward for communion, dip your hands in the water, make the sign of the cross, and remember you are a beloved child of God. Nothing this world says or does can ever change that. Jesus Christ died and rose again so that this will always be true and that you will never be separated from that love. You are a beloved child of God. Amen.
Baptism of Our Lord Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 11, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 3.1-17
This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.
When I was a teenager, I became aware of the notion that teenagers are supposed to have identity crises. So, from time to time, I’d look in the mirror and wonder what it was and when mine was coming. The truth of the matter is that I pretty much knew who I was: a good student who loved to read, someone who loved sports though wasn’t the greatest at them, with the exception I was becoming a pretty good bowler. Sure, I had my fair share of insecurities as any teenager would, but I really wasn’t insecure about whom I was. Unless I was totally oblivious, it seemed that the people I hung around with were about the same. Of course, we tried on various identities like we tried on leisure suits and Nehru jackets, but that’s not quite the same, is it?
Today we hear Matthew’s version of Jesus’ baptism, one that is narrated in one form or another in all four gospels. Jesus’ baptism has given rise to not a small amount of scholarly squabbles and speculation: what did Jesus know about himself and when did he know it? Did Jesus know from the beginning that he was God’s Son, did he have a growing awareness of it, or was this a big surprise at his baptism? As interesting as this question is, the important point is that Jesus’ identity as God’s Son is proclaimed loudly and clearly. Jesus is not only God’s beloved Son, but God is also well pleased with Jesus. Now, what is just as important is that what Jesus’ identity as God’s beloved Son means for the world will continue to unfold throughout the gospel, culminating in his death and resurrection.
When I meet with parents prior to baptizing their child, we talk about the many promises contained in baptism. One of the promises God makes to us is that through God’s grace we have a new identity. Like Jesus, God declares to us that we are beloved children and claimed by God forever. We learn what the Pharisees and Sadducees needed to learn, that our ancestry or credentials, though an important part of our identity, are not the most important thing about us. Whatever your name, whatever identity you own or is thrust upon you, the only important identity you have is child of God.
In the musical film version of Les Miserables, the main character Jean Valjean has been released from prison after 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread. He is not able to get work, so he steals from a bishop who has given him food and lodging. After being caught by the police and dragged back to the bishop, Valjean experiences grace at the bishop’s hand. Valjean is not only allowed to keep the silverware he has stolen, but is given silver candlesticks as well. Following this overwhelming act of forgiveness and grace, Valjean sings a soliloquy, “What Have I Done.” It ends with these lines: “As I stare into the void/To the whirlpool of my sin/I'll escape now from that world/ From the world of Jean Valjean/Jean Valjean is nothing now/Another story must begin!” Valjean’s new identity as a child beloved of God led to work in the world that served others. Later in the story, he will have to confront is old identity because another man has been unjustly accused of being him and stands condemned. Valjean sings another song, “Who Am I,” that highlights the struggle we all face in our identities that the world insists to impose upon us.
As Valjean learned, if we don’t see ourselves as beloved children of God, then we won’t see others that way, either. So, to make this real, I want you to take out your smart phones, take a selfie and send it or post it in social media with these words: “I am a beloved child of God and you are, too.” If you don’t have smart phone, during the passing of the peace I want you turn to someone nearby and say these same words, “You are a beloved child of God; peace be with you.” Then, when you come forward for communion, dip your hands in the water, make the sign of the cross, and remember you are a beloved child of God. Nothing this world says or does can ever change that. Jesus Christ died and rose again so that this will always be true and that you will never be separated from that love. You are a beloved child of God. Amen.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
"There and Back Again" - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Christmas
There and Back Again
Christmas 2 – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 4, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 2.13-23
It seems there has been an uptick the last few years with “remade” fairy tales or children’s stories, such as Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and, if it counts, The Wizard of Oz. What I find interesting is that these are often told from another perspective than is familiar to us. What’s even more interesting is that the other viewpoint is often the typically “evil” character and one who becomes sympathetic from this new vantage point. One takeaway from these retellings is that life is more complex, more gray than black and white, than care to we admit. This holds true for our focus scripture today as we hear the story from Matthew told from a number of viewpoints. The most obvious is Joseph who we believe is sympathetic, but certainly not evil. Then there’s another side of the birth story that certainly is evil, yet not sympathetic, at least not to us: Herod.
We’ve gone through the increasing darkness of Advent that was exploded by the light of Jesus’ birth, and now it seems that we are right back into the darkness again with this brutal story about Herod’s mass killing. If nothing else, the slaughter of the innocents is a grim reminder that evil doesn’t take a break. In fact, it is also a reminder that God’s acts of peace and justice evoke responses of hostility. To say that “No good deed goes unpunished” would sound trite, if it were not for the Herod’s of this world. And if we needed reminding, the fearful response of Herod to the birth of Jesus shows how important God’s incarnation is to this broken world.
Now, it would be easy for us to put some distance between ourselves and the brutality of the text by doing some pew-side theologizing. We could (rightly) talk about the intentional connections Matthew is making between Jesus’ birth and the Old Testament story of Moses birth and subsequent leading of the Israelites out of Egypt. We would see Herod as a latter day Pharaoh, who also fearfully slaughtered innocent male babies and we would talk about God’s miraculous deliverance and provision for his appointed savior. Yet, none of that takes the pain away from parents who witness an untimely and violent end to their child’s life, who wonder how God who is supposed to be with us as Immanuel bails on us when we need him most.
This won’t be the last challenging text we’ll encounter in Matthew, for Jesus says some hard things to say to us. But it will be helpful to remember that these texts aren’t puzzles to be solved for answers as much as they are stories to stretch us in our understanding who God is and what it means to be people of faith. It would be natural to flee from the horror and tragedy of this story, but all appearances to the contrary, that’s not God’s way. For, in fact, God has not abandoned the people and Jesus will return to fulfill God’s mission to bring the world back to him. Jesus will do that by fully entering the darkness. God became flesh and blood not only to experience all of our pain, agony, and heartbreak, but also to show us that we are not alone in the midst of them.
I have known of people who have experienced a tragic loss and who say they are abandoned by their friends afterwards. Why? It’s because people don’t know what to say when this happens. Ironically, when we are going through these difficult times, we just want someone to weep with us and tell us we aren’t alone, that we will get through it. The scripture fulfillment theme in Matthews reminds us that God is in this, even when we can’t see, and that God weeps with us as we weep. As God’s gathered community, we are also called to weep with others. There is more to the story, of course, and the story won’t end until Jesus draws us all into it. Meanwhile, we are to be Rachels to our world, walking with the heartbroken with the love we show best, showing the hurting that Jesus is Emanuel, God with them. That is no fairy tale and it’s the perspective we need. Amen.
Christmas 2 – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 4, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 2.13-23
It seems there has been an uptick the last few years with “remade” fairy tales or children’s stories, such as Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and, if it counts, The Wizard of Oz. What I find interesting is that these are often told from another perspective than is familiar to us. What’s even more interesting is that the other viewpoint is often the typically “evil” character and one who becomes sympathetic from this new vantage point. One takeaway from these retellings is that life is more complex, more gray than black and white, than care to we admit. This holds true for our focus scripture today as we hear the story from Matthew told from a number of viewpoints. The most obvious is Joseph who we believe is sympathetic, but certainly not evil. Then there’s another side of the birth story that certainly is evil, yet not sympathetic, at least not to us: Herod.
We’ve gone through the increasing darkness of Advent that was exploded by the light of Jesus’ birth, and now it seems that we are right back into the darkness again with this brutal story about Herod’s mass killing. If nothing else, the slaughter of the innocents is a grim reminder that evil doesn’t take a break. In fact, it is also a reminder that God’s acts of peace and justice evoke responses of hostility. To say that “No good deed goes unpunished” would sound trite, if it were not for the Herod’s of this world. And if we needed reminding, the fearful response of Herod to the birth of Jesus shows how important God’s incarnation is to this broken world.
Now, it would be easy for us to put some distance between ourselves and the brutality of the text by doing some pew-side theologizing. We could (rightly) talk about the intentional connections Matthew is making between Jesus’ birth and the Old Testament story of Moses birth and subsequent leading of the Israelites out of Egypt. We would see Herod as a latter day Pharaoh, who also fearfully slaughtered innocent male babies and we would talk about God’s miraculous deliverance and provision for his appointed savior. Yet, none of that takes the pain away from parents who witness an untimely and violent end to their child’s life, who wonder how God who is supposed to be with us as Immanuel bails on us when we need him most.
This won’t be the last challenging text we’ll encounter in Matthew, for Jesus says some hard things to say to us. But it will be helpful to remember that these texts aren’t puzzles to be solved for answers as much as they are stories to stretch us in our understanding who God is and what it means to be people of faith. It would be natural to flee from the horror and tragedy of this story, but all appearances to the contrary, that’s not God’s way. For, in fact, God has not abandoned the people and Jesus will return to fulfill God’s mission to bring the world back to him. Jesus will do that by fully entering the darkness. God became flesh and blood not only to experience all of our pain, agony, and heartbreak, but also to show us that we are not alone in the midst of them.
I have known of people who have experienced a tragic loss and who say they are abandoned by their friends afterwards. Why? It’s because people don’t know what to say when this happens. Ironically, when we are going through these difficult times, we just want someone to weep with us and tell us we aren’t alone, that we will get through it. The scripture fulfillment theme in Matthews reminds us that God is in this, even when we can’t see, and that God weeps with us as we weep. As God’s gathered community, we are also called to weep with others. There is more to the story, of course, and the story won’t end until Jesus draws us all into it. Meanwhile, we are to be Rachels to our world, walking with the heartbroken with the love we show best, showing the hurting that Jesus is Emanuel, God with them. That is no fairy tale and it’s the perspective we need. Amen.
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