Preparing for the Light … with Love
Advent 4 – Narrative Lectionary 2
December 20, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 1.5-13, 57-80
One lesson I learned in seminary—and continue to relearn—is that how you say something is just as important as what you say. For instance, if I said, “Once upon a time …” you’d know that a fairy tale was going to be told and treat the following story accordingly. And if I said, “It was a dark and stormy night …” you’d know that a thriller was coming, perhaps even a bad one. And if I said, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away …” the light sabers would come out and you’d definitely know it was time for a Star Wars flick.
Luke (the gospel writer, not Skywalker) is a master storyteller and understands this same mechanism for telling a tale. He begins the Jesus story with a kind of prequel about John who will become the Baptist. If Jesus is Episodes 4-6, then John is Episodes 1-3. Luke begins both of these stories similarly. In this case today, he begins his story “In the days of King Herod of Judea …” To Luke’s early readers—and to us—, this signals that God enters the world in a specific time and place.
The time and place for the Jews would be one of darkness and oppression under Roman rule. As we know from our journey through the Old Testament these past weeks, the Jews have been under the thumb of various somewhat evil empires: the Assyrians, the Babylonians and the Persians. Since their release by Cyrus of Persia, you can include the Greeks and now the Romans. In this foreign occupation, Jews like Zechariah and Elizabeth have tried to be faithful to God, although it hasn’t been easy.
And what a way to enter! After an almost 500 year silence, God comes on the scene in a big way. The angel Gabriel speaks to Zechariah and, as often happens when God shows up, the first words are “Do not be afraid.” On the lips of an angel, these words of comfort are far more reaching than the present moment of fear. For God is doing a new and wondrous thing, a thing beyond our comprehension. Even more amazingly, God invites us to be a part of it.
Of course, Zechariah balks at Gabriel’s announcement. He is rewarded for his curiosity with a silenced tongue. Yet Zechariah’s muteness in itself will be a sign to others that God is doing something incredible. So, Zechariah and Elizabeth do as they are told. They conceive, bear a son and prepare for the circumcision and naming as good Jews do. Wonders will continue to unfold for as both Elizabeth and Zechariah declare the boy’s name shall be John, Zechariah’s tongue will be freed and he let loose a song of praise that would rival any Broadway musical. The song is, in fact, a love song, though not as you think. It’s a song testifying to God’s love for us.
Today, as the days get darker, we light the fourth candle on the Advent wreath, the so-called love candle. We may not live in a time of foreign occupation like Elizabeth and Zechariah, but we know all too well the darkness in the world. Although it may not always come out this way, we are constantly bombarded by messages of fear. We have enumerated them enough in the past that we don’t need to do so again; you know them all too well. And yet, if that wasn’t bad enough, there are the things we live with day to day, the unexpected: marriages you thought were good all of a sudden fall apart. Illnesses that come upon us and leave us stunned. If there is anything I’ve learned this Advent is that it’s almost impossible to love when you’re afraid.
A long time ago in a place a lot closer than you think, God came down as God’s love always does. God said to the world, “Do not be afraid for you are not forgotten. I am doing a great thing.” How God loves us is just as important as the fact that God loves us. God does so by entering our world as one of us. As you prepare to celebrate God’s love in the flesh, Jesus, know God keeps speaking words of love. Amen.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Sunday, December 13, 2015
"Preparing for the Light … with Joy" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent
Preparing for the Light … with Joy
Advent 3 – Narrative Lectionary 2
December 13, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
Ezra 1.1-4; 3.1-4, 10-13; Luke 2.25-28a
When our girls were little, like all good dads, I taught them how to ride a bike. On one occasion, I let go of the bike just as I should and watched my daughter speed ahead, full of pride. There came a rush of pure joy when one lets go and sees their child succeed. At the same time, I thought, “I need to tell my mom.” However, in the midst of joy I felt this overwhelming wave of grief engulf me. You see, my mom was dead had been for a number of years. Whether I hadn’t grieved fully or not, I don’t think I had missed her so deeply than I did at that moment. The overwhelming joy mixed with grief blindsided me.
With the story of the returning Jews from Babylonian exile, we’re at the end of our Old Testament journey this year. Next week we enter the Jesus story. But for today, we are in the book of Ezra, one of the last historical books in the Old Testament. The Persians have defeated the Babylonians and Cyrus the king of Persia has released many peoples to go home, at least those that wish to do so. In an effort to connect with their past and establish their legitimacy as true Israelites, the Jews rebuild the altar to make sacrifices to God. They also lay new foundations for the temple over the old and have worship service to dedicate the rebuilding effort. However, in the midst of this understandably joyful celebration, they were blindsided by an equal amount of grief and lament.
As I was thinking about this mixed-bag “celebration” in Ezra and my own experience with my daughter, I thought about the interplay between grief and joy. It seems as if there is an important relationship between them, almost interdependency. Helen Keller, who certainly knew something about grief and joy, said this: “The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were no limitations to overcome. The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse.” This morning, I simply want to invite you to reflect with me on Ezra as it informs us of this dynamic between grief and joy.
There will be no call to action or anything that I’m going to ask you to do. I’m simply going to make space for you think about this same dynamic in your life. In fact, making space is the first thing to notice in this text: the community makes space for the presence of both grief and joy. What is important to understand is that the relationship between grief and joy is complex and not something to be solved; it just is. One of the things I love about Grace is that somehow we as a community of faith not only understand this but embrace it. I have seen so many examples of you inviting people in all of their brokenness to come, be loved and to share their joys and sorrows. Just last week I heard of someone who expressed his appreciation for how much this place means to his family, how they were embraced and loved in the midst of some difficult and scary times. Every week we sing the same songs, say the same prayers, but each of us is touched in profoundly different ways. And that’s okay.
Second, we must not forget this communal aspect of grief and joy also affects us personally. In Ezra, God was rebuilding the Jewish people through their rebuilding of the temple and the city as well. So, too, God takes the wreckage of our lives to rebuild something new. As you know, this is not easy work. Whether we have caused, our brokenness or whether it’s been done unto us, or whether it has just happened, this rebuilding is a mixed bag. For, even as there is joy at what God is doing in, with and through us, there is also grief at what we’ve lost.
Lastly, Ezra reminds us that God is in the midst of both our grief and our celebration with steadfast love. The temple was a reminder to the Jews that, although God was not confined to it, God promises to be there in their midst. The same is true about this place: God promises to meet us here. The Advent Candle Lighting, the St. Lucia celebration, the sharing of God’s body and blood in Holy Communion, and our gathering together all reminds us that God is Emmanuel, “God with Us,” and that his steadfast love produces joy in the mixed-bag celebrations of our lives. God makes a space for both grief and joy, rebuilds our lives and is present with steadfast love. Indeed, singing “Joy to the world” is an appropriate response. Amen.
Advent 3 – Narrative Lectionary 2
December 13, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
Ezra 1.1-4; 3.1-4, 10-13; Luke 2.25-28a
When our girls were little, like all good dads, I taught them how to ride a bike. On one occasion, I let go of the bike just as I should and watched my daughter speed ahead, full of pride. There came a rush of pure joy when one lets go and sees their child succeed. At the same time, I thought, “I need to tell my mom.” However, in the midst of joy I felt this overwhelming wave of grief engulf me. You see, my mom was dead had been for a number of years. Whether I hadn’t grieved fully or not, I don’t think I had missed her so deeply than I did at that moment. The overwhelming joy mixed with grief blindsided me.
With the story of the returning Jews from Babylonian exile, we’re at the end of our Old Testament journey this year. Next week we enter the Jesus story. But for today, we are in the book of Ezra, one of the last historical books in the Old Testament. The Persians have defeated the Babylonians and Cyrus the king of Persia has released many peoples to go home, at least those that wish to do so. In an effort to connect with their past and establish their legitimacy as true Israelites, the Jews rebuild the altar to make sacrifices to God. They also lay new foundations for the temple over the old and have worship service to dedicate the rebuilding effort. However, in the midst of this understandably joyful celebration, they were blindsided by an equal amount of grief and lament.
As I was thinking about this mixed-bag “celebration” in Ezra and my own experience with my daughter, I thought about the interplay between grief and joy. It seems as if there is an important relationship between them, almost interdependency. Helen Keller, who certainly knew something about grief and joy, said this: “The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were no limitations to overcome. The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse.” This morning, I simply want to invite you to reflect with me on Ezra as it informs us of this dynamic between grief and joy.
There will be no call to action or anything that I’m going to ask you to do. I’m simply going to make space for you think about this same dynamic in your life. In fact, making space is the first thing to notice in this text: the community makes space for the presence of both grief and joy. What is important to understand is that the relationship between grief and joy is complex and not something to be solved; it just is. One of the things I love about Grace is that somehow we as a community of faith not only understand this but embrace it. I have seen so many examples of you inviting people in all of their brokenness to come, be loved and to share their joys and sorrows. Just last week I heard of someone who expressed his appreciation for how much this place means to his family, how they were embraced and loved in the midst of some difficult and scary times. Every week we sing the same songs, say the same prayers, but each of us is touched in profoundly different ways. And that’s okay.
Second, we must not forget this communal aspect of grief and joy also affects us personally. In Ezra, God was rebuilding the Jewish people through their rebuilding of the temple and the city as well. So, too, God takes the wreckage of our lives to rebuild something new. As you know, this is not easy work. Whether we have caused, our brokenness or whether it’s been done unto us, or whether it has just happened, this rebuilding is a mixed bag. For, even as there is joy at what God is doing in, with and through us, there is also grief at what we’ve lost.
Lastly, Ezra reminds us that God is in the midst of both our grief and our celebration with steadfast love. The temple was a reminder to the Jews that, although God was not confined to it, God promises to be there in their midst. The same is true about this place: God promises to meet us here. The Advent Candle Lighting, the St. Lucia celebration, the sharing of God’s body and blood in Holy Communion, and our gathering together all reminds us that God is Emmanuel, “God with Us,” and that his steadfast love produces joy in the mixed-bag celebrations of our lives. God makes a space for both grief and joy, rebuilds our lives and is present with steadfast love. Indeed, singing “Joy to the world” is an appropriate response. Amen.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
"Preparing for the Light … with Peace" - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent
Preparing for the Light … with Peace
Advent 2 – Narrative Lectionary 2
December 6, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Isaiah 40.1-11
What causes you despair these days? What are the wildernesses of your life? Here’s one definition of despair that I found: “the complete loss or absence of hope.” Some synonyms also help our understanding: discouragement, desperation, distress, anguish, unhappiness. Definitions and synonyms are fine, but what causes despair? For many of us, it is the seemingly endless violence in our world that rolls over us like waves of a tsunami; it keeps coming and coming. For others, it may be our political system that appears broken beyond repair. And for still others, we think about our nearest relationships that are in tatters. How do we cope with all of this? What can we do against such a relentless stream of bad news?
The Israelites of the Babylonian exile also found themselves in despair and were asking even more pointed questions. The Babylonians had finally conquered Jerusalem in 597 BCE and made an initial deportation of Jewish residents to Babylon. In 587 BCE, following some shenanigans by the puppet king of Judah, the conquest became total: Jerusalem and the temple were destroyed and nearly everyone who was anyone taken forcibly to Babylon. In our text today, it is now about 50 years into this exile and the people were asking if God had forgotten them. In fact, some of them, especially the newer generation, wondered if God even existed. Perhaps worse, they wondered if God was irrelevant.
Into this situation a word comes through the prophet “Isaiah of the exile” and it’s a word of comfort. Isaiah says that all evidence to the contrary, God is still God and this God has not forgotten them. Their God has seen their suffering and despair and is coming to bring comfort, peace and release. God will enter into the wilderness of their exile and will make a way for them back home. Valleys will be filled in, mountains will be laid low and God is on the way. Isaiah reminds them that this God continues to speak and act even when they can’t see it. Human lives may fall away like grass, but the word of God stands forever.
If there is any time more needed for a word of comfort and peace, it is a time such as this. It is also a time to remember that, though counter-intuitive, we cannot bring peace about ourselves. Do we really think that peace can be forced through arming ourselves with more and bigger weapons? Do we really think that we can bring peace to ourselves by building bigger and higher walls? Do we really think that we can bring peace by separating out the people we don’t like or fear?
One of the reasons we light candles on the Advent wreath (besides counting down to Christmas, as one of our young people calls it) is to remind ourselves it is into just such a world of despair and violence the Prince of Peace was born. Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection displayed again the depths of God’s loving presence in our broken world. The candles remind us that, evidence to the contrary, God has not abandoned us but is bringing peace. The peace that only God can bring does not come through our efforts to bring it about, but God certainly invites us to pray for it, to look for it and to participate in it when it comes.
Irene (not her real name) was talking to her mother on the phone when her mom went into an ugly rant. Irene felt herself getting angry, but Irene knew she couldn’t stop her mother. So Irene prayed for a spirit of peace. In fact, Irene prayed the prayer twice, not for her mom, but for herself. Then an amazing thing happened. Irene’s mother quieted down and they began to have a great conversation. Maybe there is some way that peace begins with us, at least in the sense that we ask God to bring it. Where do you find places of peace? Where is it that God breaks in and tears down your walls of despair? Where is it that God is inviting you into the way of peace? Comfort, comfort, my people, says your God: God is making a way into your wilderness. Amen.
Advent 2 – Narrative Lectionary 2
December 6, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Isaiah 40.1-11
What causes you despair these days? What are the wildernesses of your life? Here’s one definition of despair that I found: “the complete loss or absence of hope.” Some synonyms also help our understanding: discouragement, desperation, distress, anguish, unhappiness. Definitions and synonyms are fine, but what causes despair? For many of us, it is the seemingly endless violence in our world that rolls over us like waves of a tsunami; it keeps coming and coming. For others, it may be our political system that appears broken beyond repair. And for still others, we think about our nearest relationships that are in tatters. How do we cope with all of this? What can we do against such a relentless stream of bad news?
The Israelites of the Babylonian exile also found themselves in despair and were asking even more pointed questions. The Babylonians had finally conquered Jerusalem in 597 BCE and made an initial deportation of Jewish residents to Babylon. In 587 BCE, following some shenanigans by the puppet king of Judah, the conquest became total: Jerusalem and the temple were destroyed and nearly everyone who was anyone taken forcibly to Babylon. In our text today, it is now about 50 years into this exile and the people were asking if God had forgotten them. In fact, some of them, especially the newer generation, wondered if God even existed. Perhaps worse, they wondered if God was irrelevant.
Into this situation a word comes through the prophet “Isaiah of the exile” and it’s a word of comfort. Isaiah says that all evidence to the contrary, God is still God and this God has not forgotten them. Their God has seen their suffering and despair and is coming to bring comfort, peace and release. God will enter into the wilderness of their exile and will make a way for them back home. Valleys will be filled in, mountains will be laid low and God is on the way. Isaiah reminds them that this God continues to speak and act even when they can’t see it. Human lives may fall away like grass, but the word of God stands forever.
If there is any time more needed for a word of comfort and peace, it is a time such as this. It is also a time to remember that, though counter-intuitive, we cannot bring peace about ourselves. Do we really think that peace can be forced through arming ourselves with more and bigger weapons? Do we really think that we can bring peace to ourselves by building bigger and higher walls? Do we really think that we can bring peace by separating out the people we don’t like or fear?
One of the reasons we light candles on the Advent wreath (besides counting down to Christmas, as one of our young people calls it) is to remind ourselves it is into just such a world of despair and violence the Prince of Peace was born. Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection displayed again the depths of God’s loving presence in our broken world. The candles remind us that, evidence to the contrary, God has not abandoned us but is bringing peace. The peace that only God can bring does not come through our efforts to bring it about, but God certainly invites us to pray for it, to look for it and to participate in it when it comes.
Irene (not her real name) was talking to her mother on the phone when her mom went into an ugly rant. Irene felt herself getting angry, but Irene knew she couldn’t stop her mother. So Irene prayed for a spirit of peace. In fact, Irene prayed the prayer twice, not for her mom, but for herself. Then an amazing thing happened. Irene’s mother quieted down and they began to have a great conversation. Maybe there is some way that peace begins with us, at least in the sense that we ask God to bring it. Where do you find places of peace? Where is it that God breaks in and tears down your walls of despair? Where is it that God is inviting you into the way of peace? Comfort, comfort, my people, says your God: God is making a way into your wilderness. Amen.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
"Preparing for the Light … with Hope" - Sermon for the First Sunday of Advent
Preparing for the Light … with Hope
Advent 1 – Narrative Lectionary 2
November 29, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
2 Kings 22.1-10, 14-20; 23.1-3
Josiah was eight years old when he began to reign; he reigned thirty-one years in Jerusalem. … He did what was right in the sight of the Lord, and walked in all the way of his father David; he did not turn aside to the right or to the left. (2 Kings 22.1-2)
It may seem as if we have been going backwards these past few weeks. Two weeks ago we were in the book of Hosea, the first of the Minor Prophets in the Old Testament. Last week it was Isaiah, the first of the Major Prophets and now we are in 2 Kings. In reality, we are moving forward chronologically. Hosea and Isaiah prophesied at the same time, about 700 – 750 years before Jesus, though Hosea was in the northern kingdom of Israel and Isaiah in the southern kingdom of Judah. Today as we hear about Josiah, we’re a hundred years later than Hosea and Isaiah.
Our text today is remarkable for two reasons: first, it describes Josiah as a good king. Though the writer of 2 Kings doesn’t come right out and say so, he indicates that Josiah is the Best. King. Ever. He’s remarkable because other than Hezekiah, the southern kingdom of Judah has been ruled by bad kings. Second, the text seems comfortable holding a theological tension: on the one hand, God is deemed just for punishing Judah for its apostasy and worshiping of other gods. On the other hand, the goodness and repentance of Josiah and the people don’t forestall the destruction as one might expect.
This theological tension in fact exists throughout the Bible: God both judges sin and evil and also forgives humanity in its brokenness. There are two more remarkable items to note about Josiah that are important for seeing our way through this text today. First, somehow Josiah manages to be a good king who walks in the way of his ancestor David in spite of coming from a long line of bad kings who did not. In fact, his son will revert to the typical behavior of “bad king.” How did Josiah do that? By the way, have you ever noticed that a “bad family” can produce a “good child” and so-called “good family” can produce a “bad child?” Second, in spite of the bad news that Josiah’s reforms won’t prevent Judah’s desolation, Josiah chooses to continue the way of faithful living in obedience to God anyway.
As I thought about Josiah’s faithfulness in the midst of darkness, I thought of the poem, “Anyway.” Though attributed to Mother Teresa, the NY Times has said that Kent M. Keith is the author. Here it is:
People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.
It seems this is a good lesson for us who are entering Advent as preparation for celebrating Jesus’ birth. We who have been baptized into Christ’s birth, life, death and resurrection might take that saving act of God for granted. Or we might look around our world and see all of the death, darkness, racism, fear and despair and want to pull the covers over our head and hide. Or we who claim that Jesus will come again might not really believe that’s true because it’s been 2,000 years since he made that promise and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen. But like Josiah, we look for Jesus’ presence anyway. Like Josiah, we live full of expectant hope anyway. And we live the baptismal life anyway because the life of faith is not about what we get, but rather about what we give.
When we “live anyway” despite the pressures to do otherwise we are living signs of hope in our world. What does it mean to live the baptismal life with hope? Among other things it means that as the world worships possessions and experiences or doesn’t worship at all, we worship the living God anyway. It means that though we don’t always understand the Bible or get intimidated by it, we read the Bible anyway. It means that though we don’t know how to pray or wonder if our prayers get heard, we pray anyway. It means that although our community isn’t perfect and we sometimes treat each other poorly, we gather in community anyway. And it means that though the pressure is strong to consume anything and everything, we give ourselves and our money away anyway. My sisters and brothers in Christ, as you prepare for the light, may you live into and live out of your baptisms as signs of hope in our dark world. Amen.
Sunday, November 22, 2015
"Little Sprouts" - Sermon for Christ the King Sunday
Little Sprouts
Christ the King Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 2
Grace, Mankato, MN
November 22, 2015
Isaiah 5.1-7; 11.1-5
This past week, as I was working on the text for today’s message, as it does so often, a song came into my head. This week it was, “(Hey, Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” From the 70s, it was first sung by BJ Thomas, then the Muppets (believe it or not) and covered by Kenny Rogers. It was, as a line says, “a real hurtin’ song about a love that’s gone wrong.” Although neither Isaiah nor God are not sitting in a bar listening to a juke box, the first few verses in chapter 5 constitute a love song. Isaiah is prophesying about the same time as Hosea (whom we heard from last week), mid to late 8th c. BCE. Isaiah, however, is in Judah instead of Israel. It seems that the southern kingdom is not faring any better in its relationship with God than Hosea’s northern kingdom. It’s a love that’s gone wrong.
Whereas Hosea used the images of loving spouse and parent vs. adulterous spouse and rebellious child, Isaiah uses the image of gardener who lovingly plants and tends a vineyard that goes way wrong. With this love song in chapter 5 we catch another glimpse into the suffering heart of God. Anybody who has spent countless hours in a garden only to produce “wild grapes” can relate to the pain God feels when his lavish attention goes for naught. The injustice God witnesses makes God see red, literally. These are not minor infractions that God’s people commit. This is headline producing, CNN worthy brokenness.
Sometimes, out of love for the right result, you have to tear up a garden and start over again or instead you might let it lie fallow for a time. Indeed, that’ God’s intention in chapter 5. But, we know that God has promised not to annihilate the earth again. So, if you are God, you work for the good of the whole through actions of a few. That brings us to chapter 11. Now, there is a lot of conversation about what the stump of Jesse refers to, but that’s beyond our scope here. Even so, there’s no doubt that Isaiah says a new kind of leader will arise to make things right. This leader shall receive the Spirit of God and will be on the side of the poor and marginalized.
The early church struggled to make sense of who Jesus was. At first glance, he seemed a most unlikely Messiah (or Christ). But as they looked back through the scriptures they saw in Isaiah (among other places) this description that seemed to fit. Jesus was of the house of David and therefore he was a branch of Jesse (David’s father). Jesus was a legitimate successor to the throne of David. Yet, as we see in the passion narratives and other places, Jesus is a different kind of king with a different kind of kingdom. This king came not to be served but to serve and give his life as a ransom for “a love that’s gone wrong.”
It is no accident that we have imported language from chapter 11 into our baptismal service. God gives us the “spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of council and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord” just as God has given this same spirit to Jesus. We are, to borrow a title from our faith formation with toddlers, “Little Sprouts.” The reformer, Martin Luther, calls us “little Christs,” but since Jesus is the Branch of Jesse, we are “little sprouts.” Through our baptisms into Jesus’ life, death and resurrection we become signs of his kingdom.
Of course, this new way of living is both already and not yet; we are trying to live it out even as we live into it. Through Jesus, we seek to be a community of forgiveness when “love goes wrong.” Living into the reign of Christ means resisting the values of this world that stand against God. The way of Jesus means working for justice and peace. Finally, it means being humble and recognizing that we don’t bring in the kingdom or possess it. God’s preferred future is a gift to be received and only then as something to be sought. This is not easy work, my friends, as we see the injustices abounding, but it is our calling and one I know you take seriously. As the fear mongering rages over many things, particularly the Syrian refugees, I know that we’ll be the “Little Sprouts” that God has called us to be. Why is that so? It is so because you have stood with the refugee and the broken and the poor so many times before that I know you’ll do it again. We may not always get it right, but we will follow the way of Jesus, trusting in his forgiveness and strength. Amen.
Christ the King Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 2
Grace, Mankato, MN
November 22, 2015
Isaiah 5.1-7; 11.1-5
This past week, as I was working on the text for today’s message, as it does so often, a song came into my head. This week it was, “(Hey, Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” From the 70s, it was first sung by BJ Thomas, then the Muppets (believe it or not) and covered by Kenny Rogers. It was, as a line says, “a real hurtin’ song about a love that’s gone wrong.” Although neither Isaiah nor God are not sitting in a bar listening to a juke box, the first few verses in chapter 5 constitute a love song. Isaiah is prophesying about the same time as Hosea (whom we heard from last week), mid to late 8th c. BCE. Isaiah, however, is in Judah instead of Israel. It seems that the southern kingdom is not faring any better in its relationship with God than Hosea’s northern kingdom. It’s a love that’s gone wrong.
Whereas Hosea used the images of loving spouse and parent vs. adulterous spouse and rebellious child, Isaiah uses the image of gardener who lovingly plants and tends a vineyard that goes way wrong. With this love song in chapter 5 we catch another glimpse into the suffering heart of God. Anybody who has spent countless hours in a garden only to produce “wild grapes” can relate to the pain God feels when his lavish attention goes for naught. The injustice God witnesses makes God see red, literally. These are not minor infractions that God’s people commit. This is headline producing, CNN worthy brokenness.
Sometimes, out of love for the right result, you have to tear up a garden and start over again or instead you might let it lie fallow for a time. Indeed, that’ God’s intention in chapter 5. But, we know that God has promised not to annihilate the earth again. So, if you are God, you work for the good of the whole through actions of a few. That brings us to chapter 11. Now, there is a lot of conversation about what the stump of Jesse refers to, but that’s beyond our scope here. Even so, there’s no doubt that Isaiah says a new kind of leader will arise to make things right. This leader shall receive the Spirit of God and will be on the side of the poor and marginalized.
The early church struggled to make sense of who Jesus was. At first glance, he seemed a most unlikely Messiah (or Christ). But as they looked back through the scriptures they saw in Isaiah (among other places) this description that seemed to fit. Jesus was of the house of David and therefore he was a branch of Jesse (David’s father). Jesus was a legitimate successor to the throne of David. Yet, as we see in the passion narratives and other places, Jesus is a different kind of king with a different kind of kingdom. This king came not to be served but to serve and give his life as a ransom for “a love that’s gone wrong.”
It is no accident that we have imported language from chapter 11 into our baptismal service. God gives us the “spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of council and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord” just as God has given this same spirit to Jesus. We are, to borrow a title from our faith formation with toddlers, “Little Sprouts.” The reformer, Martin Luther, calls us “little Christs,” but since Jesus is the Branch of Jesse, we are “little sprouts.” Through our baptisms into Jesus’ life, death and resurrection we become signs of his kingdom.
Of course, this new way of living is both already and not yet; we are trying to live it out even as we live into it. Through Jesus, we seek to be a community of forgiveness when “love goes wrong.” Living into the reign of Christ means resisting the values of this world that stand against God. The way of Jesus means working for justice and peace. Finally, it means being humble and recognizing that we don’t bring in the kingdom or possess it. God’s preferred future is a gift to be received and only then as something to be sought. This is not easy work, my friends, as we see the injustices abounding, but it is our calling and one I know you take seriously. As the fear mongering rages over many things, particularly the Syrian refugees, I know that we’ll be the “Little Sprouts” that God has called us to be. Why is that so? It is so because you have stood with the refugee and the broken and the poor so many times before that I know you’ll do it again. We may not always get it right, but we will follow the way of Jesus, trusting in his forgiveness and strength. Amen.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Caring for God’s People
Pentecost 25 – Narrative Lectionary 2
November 15, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Hosea 11.1-9
Hosea is a prophet, and a prophet brings a word from God to God’s people. It is often one they don’t want to hear, of how they are falling short in the relationship with God and each other. A prophet can also bring a word of hope, and in Hosea’s case it is both. In addition to speeches, prophets are often told to engage in prophetic acts that reinforce the spoken word. Again, Hosea does both. Hosea speaks to the Northern Kingdom of Israel about 750-722 BCE. He speaks a word of judgment to God’s people with a prophetic act. Early in the book, Hosea is told to marry a prostitute who continues her unfaithfulness even after the marriage. This scenario drives home the point that Israel has been unfaithful to the Lord by “committing adultery” with other gods. Though we might not go after Baals, we can admit that there are times we look for salvation other places.
In this section of Hosea, the image shifts to one of Israel as a rebellious child and God as the parent. We see that God is not only a God of forgiving love, who takes us back in spite of our unfaithfulness. God is also a God of nurturing love, who taught us how to walk and puts us back on our feet when we fall. Now, stop and think for a moment about that someone in your family, near or far, who is hard to love. It seems there is also someone else in your family who continues to love that person in spite of themselves. We might even have been that difficult to love person ourselves. In fact, to some extent we are all that way; there are parts of us that are difficult to love.
Hosea wants us to know that no matter how unlovable or difficult to love we are, God loves us anyway. In terms that are passionate and almost embarrassing, he tells of a God who stoops to meet us and picks us up. He tells us of a God who longs to enfold us in a loving embrace, that no matter what we do or don’t do, we are still God’s people. Hosea gives us a rare insight into the suffering heart of God who will do anything to be reconciled to her children. Hosea tells us that God chooses to be a God of love, not retribution; God cannot not-love. If we see in the cross of Jesus the ultimate expressing of God’s suffering love, the roots for that suffering love are here.
Today is Stewardship Commitment Sunday when we make our financial commitments for next year. As you prayerfully consider your commitment to God’s mission and ministry through Grace, I’d like you to remember two important things: first, we don’t give to get God’s love and approval. In fact, it’s the other way around. It’s because of God’s unconditional, steadfast love given freely to that we can give at all. Second, I think all of us have felt shame because we don’t give more and, although God encourages us to grow in generosity, God loves us no matter what. God’s love flows through us.
The Stewardship Team chose this year’s theme, “Caring for God’s People,” to highlight this kind of love. “Caring for God’s People” is one of our Guiding Principles, statements of who we are and what we do. Caring for God’s people means ministering to the weak and vulnerable in our world and over the past few weeks, we’ve heard some great stories about how God’s love has flowed through us. I continue stand in awe of the many ways God’s steadfast love flows through each and every one of you. Today is not just a day to recommit to the way of love; it is also a time to celebrate that way of love. For God is in our midst, bending down, gathering us in God’s arms, and leading us with bands of love. Amen.
Pentecost 25 – Narrative Lectionary 2
November 15, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Hosea 11.1-9
Hosea is a prophet, and a prophet brings a word from God to God’s people. It is often one they don’t want to hear, of how they are falling short in the relationship with God and each other. A prophet can also bring a word of hope, and in Hosea’s case it is both. In addition to speeches, prophets are often told to engage in prophetic acts that reinforce the spoken word. Again, Hosea does both. Hosea speaks to the Northern Kingdom of Israel about 750-722 BCE. He speaks a word of judgment to God’s people with a prophetic act. Early in the book, Hosea is told to marry a prostitute who continues her unfaithfulness even after the marriage. This scenario drives home the point that Israel has been unfaithful to the Lord by “committing adultery” with other gods. Though we might not go after Baals, we can admit that there are times we look for salvation other places.
In this section of Hosea, the image shifts to one of Israel as a rebellious child and God as the parent. We see that God is not only a God of forgiving love, who takes us back in spite of our unfaithfulness. God is also a God of nurturing love, who taught us how to walk and puts us back on our feet when we fall. Now, stop and think for a moment about that someone in your family, near or far, who is hard to love. It seems there is also someone else in your family who continues to love that person in spite of themselves. We might even have been that difficult to love person ourselves. In fact, to some extent we are all that way; there are parts of us that are difficult to love.
Hosea wants us to know that no matter how unlovable or difficult to love we are, God loves us anyway. In terms that are passionate and almost embarrassing, he tells of a God who stoops to meet us and picks us up. He tells us of a God who longs to enfold us in a loving embrace, that no matter what we do or don’t do, we are still God’s people. Hosea gives us a rare insight into the suffering heart of God who will do anything to be reconciled to her children. Hosea tells us that God chooses to be a God of love, not retribution; God cannot not-love. If we see in the cross of Jesus the ultimate expressing of God’s suffering love, the roots for that suffering love are here.
Today is Stewardship Commitment Sunday when we make our financial commitments for next year. As you prayerfully consider your commitment to God’s mission and ministry through Grace, I’d like you to remember two important things: first, we don’t give to get God’s love and approval. In fact, it’s the other way around. It’s because of God’s unconditional, steadfast love given freely to that we can give at all. Second, I think all of us have felt shame because we don’t give more and, although God encourages us to grow in generosity, God loves us no matter what. God’s love flows through us.
The Stewardship Team chose this year’s theme, “Caring for God’s People,” to highlight this kind of love. “Caring for God’s People” is one of our Guiding Principles, statements of who we are and what we do. Caring for God’s people means ministering to the weak and vulnerable in our world and over the past few weeks, we’ve heard some great stories about how God’s love has flowed through us. I continue stand in awe of the many ways God’s steadfast love flows through each and every one of you. Today is not just a day to recommit to the way of love; it is also a time to celebrate that way of love. For God is in our midst, bending down, gathering us in God’s arms, and leading us with bands of love. Amen.
Sunday, November 1, 2015
"Sinners, Saints and Servant Leaders" - Sermon for All Saints Sunday
Sinners,
Saints and Servant Leaders
All Saints
Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 2
November 1,
2015
Grace,
Mankato, MN
1 Kings
12.1-17; 25-29; Mark 10.42-45
“If
you will be a servant to this people today and serve them, and speak good words
to them when you answer them, then they will be your servants forever.”
(1 Kings 12.7)
So
Jesus called them and said to them, “…whoever wishes to become great among you
must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be
slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and
to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mark
10.42-45)
It occurred to
me this last week how important the events depicted in our reading for today
were for God’s people. Our focus reading from the Old Testament gives us a
snapshot of one of the most important events in the life of ancient Israel. It
is one that will have consequences for hundreds of years, if not thousands: the
dividing of the kingdom. King David, whom was anointed last week, was able to
unite the northern and southern tribes into one kingdom. He did it through his
strong personality and his military prowess, bringing peace to the land that
had only known conflict for so long. David’s son, Solomon, was able to
consolidate this kingdom through wisdom granted from God, his administrative
ability and ambitious building projects, notably the temple at Jerusalem.
Now Solomon
has died and his son, Rehoboam, is poised to take the reins of the kingdom. It is
these building projects that have become a bone of contention with the people, especially
the northern tribes. So, it seems after all that succession is not a done deal
as these folk from the northern tribes come for a consult with the newly
crowned king. Rehoboam has an opportunity to lead the unified kingdom into a
new era but, as Richard Nelson my seminary Old Testament professor notes, he
“chooses slogans over wisdom and machismo over Servanthood.” The effects of
this ill-advised decision are disastrous: the kingdom splits forever, leaving
it vulnerable to being conquered and worse, a line of kings starting with
Jeroboam who abandon YHWH. Jeroboam will devolve into a king who will become
the negative standard of bad kings who follow after him.
Periods of
leadership transition can be chaotic and unsettling at best, as we are
witnessing now in our own world. I grieve for our country as we seem to think
that the best way choose leaders is to line them up and insist they tear each
other apart while tearing our country apart as well. It was ironic that on the
morning of the recent debates, I saw a blurb on Facebook about Queen Elizabeth
II, who recently surpassed her great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria as the
longest reigning English monarch. In the blurb it noted that she has always
emphasized her role is not to rule but to serve.
Our
celebration of All Saints today might be able to shed some light on what
healthy leadership could look like. Certainly, it’s a day to remember those who
have passed away, who we now refer to as the saints in heaven. The have moved
from the Church Militant on earth to the Church Triumphant in heaven. But it’s
also an opportunity to remember what Martin Luther pointed out about our
saintly life now. He noted that because of Jesus Christ, God looks on all of us
as fully redeemed saints in God’s eyes even while we are still sinners. We are “already,
but not yet.” We can see this with even Rehoboam and Jeroboam who, for all of
their faults, were a mixture of faithful and fallible. It wouldn’t be until
1,000 years later that someone from the tribe of Judah and line of David would
emerge and show us what true servant leadership looks like: Jesus of Nazareth.
On this side
of heaven, being a saint doesn’t mean being always good or dead for that
matter. Saints are those who in spite of their frailties are set apart for
godly service. Whenever you lead, you do so by serving and whenever you serve,
you are being a leader. All of us who have been baptized into Jesus Christ have
been set apart to serve, in spite of our failings. Even Winston Churchill, the English
Prime Minister on one of the greatest modern day leaders knew that when he
said, “We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.” Of
course, that started with Jesus who shows us that true life is found in giving
ourselves away and that God will work in, with and through us as sinners,
saints and servant leaders. Amen.
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