Heaven: Person, Place or Thing?
Easter 5AMay 10, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 14.1-14
“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself so that where I am you may be also.”
When I was a young boy, I often wondered what heaven was like. Maybe you’ve wondered, too.
One day, it occurred to me that if I killed myself, I could find out. However, what didn’t occur to me is that I might not go to heaven. Even so, it did occur to me—thankfully—that I’d be dead, albeit in heaven, and wouldn’t be alive anymore. So, I decided to wait to see what heaven was like, thinking that there was no big rush and I’d find out someday, but hopefully not too soon.
Certainly, the prospect of heaven is on the minds of those people who choose this text for the funerals of their loved ones. In fact, it is so meaningful that I’ve preached on this passage at over 100 funerals in my 24 years of ordained ministry. Yet, it seems like an odd choice for the Easter season as we consider the context in which Jesus speaks these words: The Last Supper. It’s the last meal with his followers before his arrest and execution. In what is called the Farewell Discourse (or the longest after-dinner speech in the Bible), Jesus knows that he’ll be tried and crucified and so he prepares his followers and friends for life without him.
During this speech he reminds them of their mission to spread the good news of God’s love for everyone. Later on, he tells them that they won’t be alone in this work, that the Holy Spirit will guide them. But Jesus also knows that they will feel lost and alone without him and so he speaks comforting words to them. He says that he has to go away to prepare a place for them but that he’ll come back for them.
I asked a few people what they thought heaven was like and all of them immediately described a place, in varying fashion. But almost immediately they shifted to talking about persons: loved ones who they missed and hope to be reunited with some day. In other words, what we really envision about the afterlife is being with the people who mean the most to us. The interesting thing is Jesus does the same thing in this passage: he shifts from talking about the place to talking about gathering his followers to himself. In fact, you can’t see it in English, but the Greek word for dwelling places is the noun form of an important word in John: meno. The word means to rest, abide, or remain. Hence, the dwelling places Jesus talks about are really “abiding places.” Heaven is relational more than situational.
As I have been working on this text, I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom, who died in June 37 years ago at age 57. Like all of us, she was a “mixed bag,” both saint and sinner in theological language. These remembrances evoke mixed feelings in me. On the one hand, I’m sad and angry that even with end stage emphysema she couldn’t quit smoking and, among other things, never knew her two, beautiful granddaughters. On the other hand, I’m grateful for the sacrifices she and Dad made for us and providing a place where all of our friends felt welcome and loved. She was a “second mom” to them all.
When she died, she was cremated and the ashes scattered somewhere. It wasn’t until my dad died six years later (also too young) and was interred at Ft. Snelling that there was a place to remember my mother, to visit her. Although I don’t visit often, I know the place is there, even if her ashes aren’t, and I can remember.
Furthermore, I know that she abides with Jesus, that Jesus abides with her, that she abides in my heart and in some mysterious way I abide in her. I know this to be true because of Jesus’ promises to provide that place as the way, truth and life. I also know that when we utter this great “I am” saying, to prevent people from God’s loving presence, we are doing so contrary to God’s purpose in Jesus Christ. Jesus did not intend to exclude people; otherwise it’s not good news.
There is much to trouble our hearts about these days, and with good reason; I don’t need to list them. It grieves me that people aren’t able to say goodbye to their loved ones properly. However, the assurance that we are loved and that God is saving a place for each of us brings great comfort. It also frees us up to admit our vulnerability to those fears while being able to respond whole-heartedly with love. As one of my colleagues said recently, we might be scattered but we’re not shattered. We may not know the what or the where of heaven, but we know the Who, the one who abides in us as we abide in his love. Thanks be to God. Peace and Amen.
For the video version of this service, please click here.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Sunday, April 26, 2020
"Traveling Companion" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter
Traveling Companion
Easter 3A
April 26, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 24.13-35
[Jesus] was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Obviously, food is important for our survival, but I think eating meals together is just as critical. As humans became social animals years ago, I’m sure eating together was important to that development. I can’t think of an important event that doesn’t involve food and eating together: birthdays, weddings, and funerals are just a few. Like many families, my family had traditions regarding food and eating. One of our values growing up was that all of us were expected to be at the dinner table every night. If we weren’t there, it had better be a good excuse, and there weren’t many of those. Cindy and I shared that value with our girls among others: birthday dinners are celebrated at a restaurant of the birthday person’s choice; we have set meals for all of the major holidays; and when we see movies together, we schedule them so we can debrief over dinner. (We even have a rule that the debriefing can’t start until we are seated and have our beverages.)
We have this figured out in the church as well. I think that the coffee hour may be just as important as worship and we do love our potluck dinners. It shouldn’t surprise you then that we can see the importance of meals for community by all the fights over them. For example, in the book of Acts there was a disruption because some widows were being shorted in the allotment of food. The Apostle Paul has to answer a question about if you could eat food sacrificed to idols. And Paul chastised some in the Corinthian church for gluttony. It seems the wealthy, who didn’t have to work, arrived early at the love feast, eating all the food, and leaving nothing for the poorer people who were working. The fights continued. During the Protestant Reformation in the 1500s, the fight was about Jesus’ presence in Communion: was he really present or was it spiritual? These days, we still argue about who can take Holy Communion, how old they have to be, and how much understanding they need.
In some ways, we come by it honestly because Jesus was controversial about food. He ate with tax collectors and sinners, considered the lowliest of the low while also eating with the religious leaders who wanted to kill him. His disciples were chastised for picking grain on the sabbath and later admonished for not washing their hands before they ate. Jesus astonished people by feeding the multitudes with a few loaves and fish, but then disgusted many of them as he declares himself to be the Bread of Life. Finally, he says some startling things at the Last Supper as he claims the bread to be his body and the wine to be his blood.
So, it should be no shock that many post-resurrection appearances involve food as well, none more notable than the Road to Emmaus text. It’s still that first Easter and unbeknownst to them, Jesus comes and walks alongside two of his followers. (By the way, did you know there are some who believe the two were husband and wife? I’ve discovered a website that depicts this belief in art. You can click on it here.) After Jesus questions them about their discussion, the followers respond with a recitation of the events of the past few days, including the three most despairing words in any language: “…we had hoped…”
Jesus, with a verbal reproof, opens the scriptures to them. When they reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends to go further, clearly fishing for a dinner invitation, which is granted. He then agrees to stay with them. But in a surprising turnabout, Jesus acts as host of the meal, not Cleopas. And the meal looks a lot like Holy Communion. It has what is known as the four-fold shape: Bring, Bless, Break, and Share. In the breaking of the bread, their eyes are opened and they recognize Jesus who immediately vanishes. Yet they are able to look back on their encounter with Jesus on the road and realize that he had truly been with them.
This text is bittersweet for us today because it sets in stark relief all of our hopes and expectations. We had hoped to be back worshiping, taking Holy Communion, and having Easter breakfast together. We had hoped to be attending grad parties, prom dinners, going to movies and eating out. We had even hoped to be saying goodbye to our loved ones and sharing memories over a meal. Fortunately for us, Jesus comes and walks along beside us in our despair, meeting us in our deepest needs.
Jesus is our traveling companion. That’s doubly meaningful since companion means “share bread.” In other words, companions are the ones with whom we share bread. There’s so much good news here. Jesus meets us where we are, opens himself up, and gives himself to us. It is good news that we don’t need to fully see Jesus in these moments and aren’t required to understand it when we do. As a way to help make this notion real for you today, I invite you to take some bread, break it, and remember where you’ve seen Jesus show up in your life. And if you are able, share that experience with someone else. My sisters and brothers in Christ, I see Jesus in each and everyone of you, in your faithfulness and in your love for others. Know that Jesus is your traveling companion. Amen.
For the video version of the sermon click here.
Easter 3A
April 26, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 24.13-35
[Jesus] was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Obviously, food is important for our survival, but I think eating meals together is just as critical. As humans became social animals years ago, I’m sure eating together was important to that development. I can’t think of an important event that doesn’t involve food and eating together: birthdays, weddings, and funerals are just a few. Like many families, my family had traditions regarding food and eating. One of our values growing up was that all of us were expected to be at the dinner table every night. If we weren’t there, it had better be a good excuse, and there weren’t many of those. Cindy and I shared that value with our girls among others: birthday dinners are celebrated at a restaurant of the birthday person’s choice; we have set meals for all of the major holidays; and when we see movies together, we schedule them so we can debrief over dinner. (We even have a rule that the debriefing can’t start until we are seated and have our beverages.)
We have this figured out in the church as well. I think that the coffee hour may be just as important as worship and we do love our potluck dinners. It shouldn’t surprise you then that we can see the importance of meals for community by all the fights over them. For example, in the book of Acts there was a disruption because some widows were being shorted in the allotment of food. The Apostle Paul has to answer a question about if you could eat food sacrificed to idols. And Paul chastised some in the Corinthian church for gluttony. It seems the wealthy, who didn’t have to work, arrived early at the love feast, eating all the food, and leaving nothing for the poorer people who were working. The fights continued. During the Protestant Reformation in the 1500s, the fight was about Jesus’ presence in Communion: was he really present or was it spiritual? These days, we still argue about who can take Holy Communion, how old they have to be, and how much understanding they need.
In some ways, we come by it honestly because Jesus was controversial about food. He ate with tax collectors and sinners, considered the lowliest of the low while also eating with the religious leaders who wanted to kill him. His disciples were chastised for picking grain on the sabbath and later admonished for not washing their hands before they ate. Jesus astonished people by feeding the multitudes with a few loaves and fish, but then disgusted many of them as he declares himself to be the Bread of Life. Finally, he says some startling things at the Last Supper as he claims the bread to be his body and the wine to be his blood.
So, it should be no shock that many post-resurrection appearances involve food as well, none more notable than the Road to Emmaus text. It’s still that first Easter and unbeknownst to them, Jesus comes and walks alongside two of his followers. (By the way, did you know there are some who believe the two were husband and wife? I’ve discovered a website that depicts this belief in art. You can click on it here.) After Jesus questions them about their discussion, the followers respond with a recitation of the events of the past few days, including the three most despairing words in any language: “…we had hoped…”
Jesus, with a verbal reproof, opens the scriptures to them. When they reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends to go further, clearly fishing for a dinner invitation, which is granted. He then agrees to stay with them. But in a surprising turnabout, Jesus acts as host of the meal, not Cleopas. And the meal looks a lot like Holy Communion. It has what is known as the four-fold shape: Bring, Bless, Break, and Share. In the breaking of the bread, their eyes are opened and they recognize Jesus who immediately vanishes. Yet they are able to look back on their encounter with Jesus on the road and realize that he had truly been with them.
This text is bittersweet for us today because it sets in stark relief all of our hopes and expectations. We had hoped to be back worshiping, taking Holy Communion, and having Easter breakfast together. We had hoped to be attending grad parties, prom dinners, going to movies and eating out. We had even hoped to be saying goodbye to our loved ones and sharing memories over a meal. Fortunately for us, Jesus comes and walks along beside us in our despair, meeting us in our deepest needs.
Jesus is our traveling companion. That’s doubly meaningful since companion means “share bread.” In other words, companions are the ones with whom we share bread. There’s so much good news here. Jesus meets us where we are, opens himself up, and gives himself to us. It is good news that we don’t need to fully see Jesus in these moments and aren’t required to understand it when we do. As a way to help make this notion real for you today, I invite you to take some bread, break it, and remember where you’ve seen Jesus show up in your life. And if you are able, share that experience with someone else. My sisters and brothers in Christ, I see Jesus in each and everyone of you, in your faithfulness and in your love for others. Know that Jesus is your traveling companion. Amen.
For the video version of the sermon click here.
Sunday, April 12, 2020
"He’s Not Here: An Angel’s View of the Resurrection" - Resurrection of Our Lord A
He’s Not Here: An Angel’s View of the Resurrection
Resurrection of Our Lord – A
April 12, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 28.1-10
From the angel at the tomb:
He’s not here. I’m telling you the same thing I told those two women just a few minutes ago: He’s not here. He’s not here, just as Jesus said to his closest friends and followers, he has been raised from the dead. As an angel, one whose job is to bring a message from God to God’s people, I’m telling you, too: He’s not here. God is on the move and nobody can prevent that, certainly not these soldiers who lie here as if they were dead. Indeed, though it often seems otherwise, the powers of this world cannot prevail against God’s love.
I think the two women, the two Marys, knew this and clung to this during these last three, horrific days. Yet, they were the ones who stayed with Jesus the whole time while his closest friends abandoned him. Right now, the women are on their way to those same disciples who are behind locked doors in fear. The women, too, were afraid and still are, but they are also filled with great joy at the news of the empty tomb. Now they are the first apostles, the ones sent by God, to tell their brothers that Jesus has been raised from the dead.
So, why are you here? I suppose it’s natural for you to come and see for yourself what has happened. After all, you are used to gathering together and being with Jesus on days like this and being with him. And it is part of being human to want to check things out for ourselves, to see what others see. But today, he’s not here and though that might be upsetting to you, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s a reminder that just as no tomb can hold Jesus, our expectations can’t hold him either.
Having observed humanity for thousands of years, I think I can understand your difficulty today. You are still stuck with Jesus on Calvary, feeling the effects of sin, brokenness and death. The news of the empty tomb, that Jesus is not here, is difficult to take in, let alone seem real. I wish I could tell you that there will be no more Calvarys, that pain and heartbreak are gone for good and that all will be well from here on in. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen for a while, when God deems it to be the right time to bring all things to completion.
But for today, do not be afraid, do not continue in fear. I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified; he is not here. For he has been raised, just as he said. No, it’s not too good to be true, it’s too good not to be true. The good news is that you are now an empty-tomb people in a Calvary world and that just as Jesus has gone ahead to meet his followers in Galilee he will meet you wherever you are, wherever you need him. So, today, which hardly seems joyful, go with awe and joy holding on to Jesus where you meet him. For Christ is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!
Resurrection of Our Lord – A
April 12, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 28.1-10
From the angel at the tomb:
He’s not here. I’m telling you the same thing I told those two women just a few minutes ago: He’s not here. He’s not here, just as Jesus said to his closest friends and followers, he has been raised from the dead. As an angel, one whose job is to bring a message from God to God’s people, I’m telling you, too: He’s not here. God is on the move and nobody can prevent that, certainly not these soldiers who lie here as if they were dead. Indeed, though it often seems otherwise, the powers of this world cannot prevail against God’s love.
I think the two women, the two Marys, knew this and clung to this during these last three, horrific days. Yet, they were the ones who stayed with Jesus the whole time while his closest friends abandoned him. Right now, the women are on their way to those same disciples who are behind locked doors in fear. The women, too, were afraid and still are, but they are also filled with great joy at the news of the empty tomb. Now they are the first apostles, the ones sent by God, to tell their brothers that Jesus has been raised from the dead.
So, why are you here? I suppose it’s natural for you to come and see for yourself what has happened. After all, you are used to gathering together and being with Jesus on days like this and being with him. And it is part of being human to want to check things out for ourselves, to see what others see. But today, he’s not here and though that might be upsetting to you, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s a reminder that just as no tomb can hold Jesus, our expectations can’t hold him either.
Having observed humanity for thousands of years, I think I can understand your difficulty today. You are still stuck with Jesus on Calvary, feeling the effects of sin, brokenness and death. The news of the empty tomb, that Jesus is not here, is difficult to take in, let alone seem real. I wish I could tell you that there will be no more Calvarys, that pain and heartbreak are gone for good and that all will be well from here on in. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen for a while, when God deems it to be the right time to bring all things to completion.
But for today, do not be afraid, do not continue in fear. I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified; he is not here. For he has been raised, just as he said. No, it’s not too good to be true, it’s too good not to be true. The good news is that you are now an empty-tomb people in a Calvary world and that just as Jesus has gone ahead to meet his followers in Galilee he will meet you wherever you are, wherever you need him. So, today, which hardly seems joyful, go with awe and joy holding on to Jesus where you meet him. For Christ is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!
To view the service with the sermon click here.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
"Hosanna?" Sermon for Palm Sunday A
Hosanna?
Palm Sunday A
April 5, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 21.1-11
Who are you in this text, the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem? With whom do you most identify? Maybe you are one in the crowd who have been following Jesus. You’ve been with him for some time and see him as the “real deal.” You believe that he is the Messiah, the one coming into the world. Perhaps you’re one of the disciples who not only cheer, but faithfully obey Jesus’ instructions, trusting that it will be as you find it. Or, because you know the story, you might identify with cranky religious leaders lying in wait, upset at Jesus and the following he draws.
You could even put yourself in Jesus’ place, knowing that you have a firm hand on the events that will follow.
I like to think I’d be one of the disciples in the crowd, waving my palm and shouting “Hosanna!” right along with the rest of them. However, when I’m honest with myself, it’s more likely I’m in the city watching dispassionately, wondering how this is going to go. Partly, it’s because I’m wired that way.
Florence was an elderly member of the call committee in a previous congregation I served. She was in the gettin up there in years, but her mind was sharp as ever. In fact, she was well read and probably knew more theology than most pastors. I’m convinced that if she had lived two generations later, she could have been a bishop of this church or a teaching theologian or both. Her task on the call committee was to talk to the bishop about me and get a reference. In one of our many conversations she mentioned this, along with something the bishop said: “If you are looking for a rah-rah pastor to stir things up, don’t call Scott. But call him if you are looking for a steadying presence in the congregation.” Obviously, that must have been what the congregation wanted because I received the call.
Aside from the way we are wired, not many of us are in a “rah-rah” mood right now with the COVID-19 threat hanging over us. Even so, if I’d lived 2,000 years ago, I would probably have had a hopeful agnosticism toward Jesus. By that I mean I would be skeptical about Jesus being the Messiah, wary of getting too hopeful. I would have waited to see how things played out. Besides, there had already been people claiming to be the Messiah, who had disappointed the people. It would have been evident that his entry into Jerusalem indicated some kind of victory procession, but what was the victory?
We’d love for Jesus to come and obliterate COVID-19, but we know that’s not how God works. We also know that the cheers of the crowds that first Palm Sunday will turn into jeers in a breathtaking short time, going from “Hosanna” to “Crucify him!” We know that Jesus will overcome the powers of sin, death and evil, but in a way totally unexpected. Fortunately, how Jesus ultimately becomes the Messiah doesn’t depend on what I think or feel or do. The good news is that Jesus came into the world to be the king we need, not the king we want. He’s not the king we desire, but the one we must have.
For those of you who are able to be enthusiastic and wave imaginary palm branches today, God bless you and thank you, because you’re going to have to carry the rest of us. For those of you who are normally enthusiastic but can’t muster the energy, know that we who are steady will carry you. And know that wherever you are in the story and on your faith journey, Jesus meets you where you are and gives you what you need. For blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven. Amen.
To view the service with the sermon click here.
Palm Sunday A
April 5, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 21.1-11
Who are you in this text, the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem? With whom do you most identify? Maybe you are one in the crowd who have been following Jesus. You’ve been with him for some time and see him as the “real deal.” You believe that he is the Messiah, the one coming into the world. Perhaps you’re one of the disciples who not only cheer, but faithfully obey Jesus’ instructions, trusting that it will be as you find it. Or, because you know the story, you might identify with cranky religious leaders lying in wait, upset at Jesus and the following he draws.
You could even put yourself in Jesus’ place, knowing that you have a firm hand on the events that will follow.
I like to think I’d be one of the disciples in the crowd, waving my palm and shouting “Hosanna!” right along with the rest of them. However, when I’m honest with myself, it’s more likely I’m in the city watching dispassionately, wondering how this is going to go. Partly, it’s because I’m wired that way.
Florence was an elderly member of the call committee in a previous congregation I served. She was in the gettin up there in years, but her mind was sharp as ever. In fact, she was well read and probably knew more theology than most pastors. I’m convinced that if she had lived two generations later, she could have been a bishop of this church or a teaching theologian or both. Her task on the call committee was to talk to the bishop about me and get a reference. In one of our many conversations she mentioned this, along with something the bishop said: “If you are looking for a rah-rah pastor to stir things up, don’t call Scott. But call him if you are looking for a steadying presence in the congregation.” Obviously, that must have been what the congregation wanted because I received the call.
Aside from the way we are wired, not many of us are in a “rah-rah” mood right now with the COVID-19 threat hanging over us. Even so, if I’d lived 2,000 years ago, I would probably have had a hopeful agnosticism toward Jesus. By that I mean I would be skeptical about Jesus being the Messiah, wary of getting too hopeful. I would have waited to see how things played out. Besides, there had already been people claiming to be the Messiah, who had disappointed the people. It would have been evident that his entry into Jerusalem indicated some kind of victory procession, but what was the victory?
We’d love for Jesus to come and obliterate COVID-19, but we know that’s not how God works. We also know that the cheers of the crowds that first Palm Sunday will turn into jeers in a breathtaking short time, going from “Hosanna” to “Crucify him!” We know that Jesus will overcome the powers of sin, death and evil, but in a way totally unexpected. Fortunately, how Jesus ultimately becomes the Messiah doesn’t depend on what I think or feel or do. The good news is that Jesus came into the world to be the king we need, not the king we want. He’s not the king we desire, but the one we must have.
For those of you who are able to be enthusiastic and wave imaginary palm branches today, God bless you and thank you, because you’re going to have to carry the rest of us. For those of you who are normally enthusiastic but can’t muster the energy, know that we who are steady will carry you. And know that wherever you are in the story and on your faith journey, Jesus meets you where you are and gives you what you need. For blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven. Amen.
To view the service with the sermon click here.
Sunday, March 29, 2020
"Good Grief" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent A
Good Grief
Lent 5A
March 29, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 11.1-45
I was called to the hospital because Dorothy was dying. Dorothy was an elderly woman with medical problems, so it was no surprise. The surprise was that she’d held on as long as she had. Gathered in the room were her daughter, Laurie, son-in-law Tim, and granddaughters Angie and Jenna. We said our prayers together and our goodbyes to Dorothy. It was a good death as deaths go. Dorothy was surrounded by family, she wasn’t in any pain, and everyone had the opportunity to say what needed to be said before she died. I was prepared for her death and I was even prepared for the family’s grief. But I was not prepared for the grief I felt as I experienced theirs. I had a very close relationship with Dorothy’s family and I grieved for them.
In our Gospel reading for today, Jesus finally makes it to Lazarus’ tomb, four days late we are told, a detail John includes that assures us Lazarus is really dead. On the way, Jesus has endured tongue lashings from Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary who berate his tardiness in coming. But we also hear an amazing confession from Martha, who believes that Jesus can do whatever he asks. Soon after, we also hear Jesus’ claim, “I am the resurrection and the life” and we expect something special to happen. What we don’t expect is Jesus’ breakdown at the tomb, his weeping and even his anger.
In John’s Gospel, Jesus is almost incomprehensible at times. With some of his statements sh leaves his disciples and us going, “Huh?” We see a little of that here as Jesus talks about hours of light and darkness, a favorite theme in John. But we also see Jesus at his most human, weeping and grieving. But we wonder: why Jesus is weeping if he knows he is going to raise Lazarus, and why is he so angry? The best explanation I’ve seen is that first, like me with Dorothy’s family, Jesus grieves for them. He cares deeply for Martha and Mary, and he grieves at their grief. Second and related to the first, Jesus is angry about the powers of sin, death and the devil that hold sway over the world. He is angry at the forces that keep people from the abundant life that God intends for us.
Truth be told, I like the almost incomprehensible Jesus because he stretches my thinking about who God is and how God works in our world. But I also like the human Jesus who meets us in our grief and walks with us through it. Jesus doesn’t deny the reality of suffering and death. Rather, Jesus meets it and even enters it. In fact, if you read just a bit farther in chapter 11, you see that Jesus sets some serious wheels in motion. By going to Judea and raising Lazarus, Jesus forces the hand of the religious leaders. They begin to plot his death, which we know will be successful.
We are in a very uncertain time as we deal with COVID-19, and we wonder where Jesus is in the midst of all this. Perhaps, as it has been suggested by some, Lent is an appropriate time for the pandemic as if forces us to think about our mortality and what’s important to us. But even more so, the story of Lazarus (and Martha and Mary!) reminds of us of God’s faithfulness in the midst of our most difficult times, because Jesus is the resurrection and the life. God be with you, my sisters and brothers, in the days ahead. Know that God has entered the chaos and uncertainty. God is with you always. Amen.
You can also view the sermon in its entirety here.
Lent 5A
March 29, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 11.1-45
I was called to the hospital because Dorothy was dying. Dorothy was an elderly woman with medical problems, so it was no surprise. The surprise was that she’d held on as long as she had. Gathered in the room were her daughter, Laurie, son-in-law Tim, and granddaughters Angie and Jenna. We said our prayers together and our goodbyes to Dorothy. It was a good death as deaths go. Dorothy was surrounded by family, she wasn’t in any pain, and everyone had the opportunity to say what needed to be said before she died. I was prepared for her death and I was even prepared for the family’s grief. But I was not prepared for the grief I felt as I experienced theirs. I had a very close relationship with Dorothy’s family and I grieved for them.
In our Gospel reading for today, Jesus finally makes it to Lazarus’ tomb, four days late we are told, a detail John includes that assures us Lazarus is really dead. On the way, Jesus has endured tongue lashings from Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary who berate his tardiness in coming. But we also hear an amazing confession from Martha, who believes that Jesus can do whatever he asks. Soon after, we also hear Jesus’ claim, “I am the resurrection and the life” and we expect something special to happen. What we don’t expect is Jesus’ breakdown at the tomb, his weeping and even his anger.
In John’s Gospel, Jesus is almost incomprehensible at times. With some of his statements sh leaves his disciples and us going, “Huh?” We see a little of that here as Jesus talks about hours of light and darkness, a favorite theme in John. But we also see Jesus at his most human, weeping and grieving. But we wonder: why Jesus is weeping if he knows he is going to raise Lazarus, and why is he so angry? The best explanation I’ve seen is that first, like me with Dorothy’s family, Jesus grieves for them. He cares deeply for Martha and Mary, and he grieves at their grief. Second and related to the first, Jesus is angry about the powers of sin, death and the devil that hold sway over the world. He is angry at the forces that keep people from the abundant life that God intends for us.
Truth be told, I like the almost incomprehensible Jesus because he stretches my thinking about who God is and how God works in our world. But I also like the human Jesus who meets us in our grief and walks with us through it. Jesus doesn’t deny the reality of suffering and death. Rather, Jesus meets it and even enters it. In fact, if you read just a bit farther in chapter 11, you see that Jesus sets some serious wheels in motion. By going to Judea and raising Lazarus, Jesus forces the hand of the religious leaders. They begin to plot his death, which we know will be successful.
We are in a very uncertain time as we deal with COVID-19, and we wonder where Jesus is in the midst of all this. Perhaps, as it has been suggested by some, Lent is an appropriate time for the pandemic as if forces us to think about our mortality and what’s important to us. But even more so, the story of Lazarus (and Martha and Mary!) reminds of us of God’s faithfulness in the midst of our most difficult times, because Jesus is the resurrection and the life. God be with you, my sisters and brothers, in the days ahead. Know that God has entered the chaos and uncertainty. God is with you always. Amen.
You can also view the sermon in its entirety here.
Sunday, March 15, 2020
"Staying Power" - Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent
Staying Power
Lent 3A
March 15, 2020
Grace, Waseca MN
John 4.5-42
So, when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and the stayed there two days.
I’ve mentioned before how at 38 years old, we packed up our household and moved to seminary at Gettysburg, PA. Even though we didn’t live on the seminary campus—by design—I was on campus quite a bit. However, if I wasn’t in class I was studying in the library. One day between classes and studying, I met the seminary president, Dr. Darold Beekman, walking along the sidewalk. To my surprise, we stopped and chatted. Although I don’t remember the details, I was astonished for two reasons. First, that he would stop to talk to me, a lowly student (in my eyes). Besides, he couldn’t see very well and had “coke bottles” for glasses. And second, that when ed did stop he both knew and remembered so much about me.
I was reminded of that encounter as I worked with our Gospel reading about another encounter almost 2,000 years earlier, that of the Samaritan woman and Jesus at the well. We are in our second of four readings of John, my favorite Gospel. We are reminded that John prefers lengthy stories with involved and deep dialogues between Jesus and others to the shorter narratives we find in the other Gospels. We saw the first instance of that last week in Jesus’ encounter with the religious leader, Nicodemus. Here again in this story we have typical features of John’s Gospel. We see misunderstandings between Jesus and his conversation partner, particularly from the use of double meanings. The woman doesn’t understand about this water that Jesus is offering, mainly because of the play on words between living water and flowing water.
There are additional Johannine features that are prominent today as well. For example, believing is always a verb in the Gospel, never a noun. Believing is active and dynamic. Then we have the first of the “I am” sayings, where Jesus equates himself with God. “I am” was the name that God used when Moses asked God who it was that was sending him back into Egypt. It’s what eventually gets Jesus killed. Furthermore, though it’s easy to miss, there is the use of meno in the Greek: to stay, rest, remain or abide. So, when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and the stayed there two days. Meno is a big word in John. You can see this unpacked in Ch. 15 where Jesus, as the true vine, invites us to abide in him as he abides in us. But today, we get a glimpse of this mutual abiding in the exchange Jesus has with the Samaritan woman.
It’s a remarkable exchange, given that Jews and Samaritans were bitter enemies and that it was unheard of for a man to speak to a woman, let alone a Samaritan woman. Samaritans were considered “half-breeds” (pardon the term) by the Jews. By consorting with a Samaritan woman, Jesus would have become “unclean” and unable to worship in the temple. Yet, Jesus doesn’t let an ancient version of “social distancing” and the threat of contamination stop him. Jesus refuses to let the social, political and religious convention of the day from abiding with her and giving the opportunity for her to abide with him. As he does so often, Jesus meets her where she is and takes her deeper, giving her living water.
In essence, Jesus tells the Samaritan woman—and the Samaritan townspeople— “you matter.” And for Jesus, that’s more than mere lip service;.How he gives himself to the woman and the townspeople is a foretaste of how he will give himself on the cross for the sake of the whole world, the world the Samaritans represent. I think that there’s a part of that Samaritan woman in all of us, a part that we hide and don’t think worthy of Jesus’ time and effort. But, Jesus invites us to put down our jars, stay with him as he stays with us, and receive the living water only he can give.
Dr. Beekman was living water to me that day at seminary. He was abiding with me, as Jesus, telling me that I matter. So, as you receive the living water of Jesus today, I invite you to share that with others this week. Amen.
Lent 3A
March 15, 2020
Grace, Waseca MN
John 4.5-42
So, when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and the stayed there two days.
I’ve mentioned before how at 38 years old, we packed up our household and moved to seminary at Gettysburg, PA. Even though we didn’t live on the seminary campus—by design—I was on campus quite a bit. However, if I wasn’t in class I was studying in the library. One day between classes and studying, I met the seminary president, Dr. Darold Beekman, walking along the sidewalk. To my surprise, we stopped and chatted. Although I don’t remember the details, I was astonished for two reasons. First, that he would stop to talk to me, a lowly student (in my eyes). Besides, he couldn’t see very well and had “coke bottles” for glasses. And second, that when ed did stop he both knew and remembered so much about me.
I was reminded of that encounter as I worked with our Gospel reading about another encounter almost 2,000 years earlier, that of the Samaritan woman and Jesus at the well. We are in our second of four readings of John, my favorite Gospel. We are reminded that John prefers lengthy stories with involved and deep dialogues between Jesus and others to the shorter narratives we find in the other Gospels. We saw the first instance of that last week in Jesus’ encounter with the religious leader, Nicodemus. Here again in this story we have typical features of John’s Gospel. We see misunderstandings between Jesus and his conversation partner, particularly from the use of double meanings. The woman doesn’t understand about this water that Jesus is offering, mainly because of the play on words between living water and flowing water.
There are additional Johannine features that are prominent today as well. For example, believing is always a verb in the Gospel, never a noun. Believing is active and dynamic. Then we have the first of the “I am” sayings, where Jesus equates himself with God. “I am” was the name that God used when Moses asked God who it was that was sending him back into Egypt. It’s what eventually gets Jesus killed. Furthermore, though it’s easy to miss, there is the use of meno in the Greek: to stay, rest, remain or abide. So, when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and the stayed there two days. Meno is a big word in John. You can see this unpacked in Ch. 15 where Jesus, as the true vine, invites us to abide in him as he abides in us. But today, we get a glimpse of this mutual abiding in the exchange Jesus has with the Samaritan woman.
It’s a remarkable exchange, given that Jews and Samaritans were bitter enemies and that it was unheard of for a man to speak to a woman, let alone a Samaritan woman. Samaritans were considered “half-breeds” (pardon the term) by the Jews. By consorting with a Samaritan woman, Jesus would have become “unclean” and unable to worship in the temple. Yet, Jesus doesn’t let an ancient version of “social distancing” and the threat of contamination stop him. Jesus refuses to let the social, political and religious convention of the day from abiding with her and giving the opportunity for her to abide with him. As he does so often, Jesus meets her where she is and takes her deeper, giving her living water.
In essence, Jesus tells the Samaritan woman—and the Samaritan townspeople— “you matter.” And for Jesus, that’s more than mere lip service;.How he gives himself to the woman and the townspeople is a foretaste of how he will give himself on the cross for the sake of the whole world, the world the Samaritans represent. I think that there’s a part of that Samaritan woman in all of us, a part that we hide and don’t think worthy of Jesus’ time and effort. But, Jesus invites us to put down our jars, stay with him as he stays with us, and receive the living water only he can give.
Dr. Beekman was living water to me that day at seminary. He was abiding with me, as Jesus, telling me that I matter. So, as you receive the living water of Jesus today, I invite you to share that with others this week. Amen.
Sunday, March 8, 2020
"Dying to Live" - Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent
Dying to Live
Lent 2A
March 8, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 3.1-17; Genesis 12.1-4a
Change is hard. Even when change is good, change is hard. For example, a job promotion may mean moving and changing everything. You are asked to leave who and what you know behind for the unknown and unfamiliar. Then, with loss comes grief and the uncertainty of what lies ahead, even when what’s past is awful. An abused spouse finds it difficult to leave an unhealthy marriage or an alcoholic a destructive life. Knowing that the change you are making is the right thing doesn’t always make it easier.
In our Old Testament and Gospel readings for today, both Abraham and Nicodemus are being pushed to make significant changes in their lives. Abraham is asked to leave everything behind to settle a new land based on an unlikely promise of a son. It seems like a fool’s errand. Nicodemus, on the other hand, is a religious leader and part of the establishment. Interestingly, he comes to Jesus under the cover of darkness. He has what we call in John’s Gospel a “signs faith.” Signs faith is believing in Jesus based on the signs Jesus has done yet superficial and inadequate for the relationship of new life. For both Nicodemus and Abraham, change is hard.
Today we have the first of four readings in John, my favorite Gospel. It has been said of this Gospel that it is like a river, both shallow enough for children to wade in and deep enough for elephants to swim. It’s that simple and that difficult all at the same time. The story of Nicodemus is a great example, with John 3.16, the “gospel in a nutshell,” as Martin Luther says. But it also includes Jesus’ confusing but characteristic play on words about being born anew or born from above. And then there is the play on words for wind, breath and spirit as well. Finally, there are several polarities in John, including the themes of light and darkness, and life and death,
Nicodemus comes under the cover of darkness, perhaps so as not to be seen by his fellow religious leaders but John’s message is clear: Nicodemus is “in the dark” nonetheless. In their conversation, Jesus challenges Nicodemus’ understanding of God’s working in the world. He invites Nicodemus to go deeper and to let go of what he thinks he knows about God. Then Nicodemus fades away from today’s story, perhaps uncertain what Jesus is asking of him, although he does show up again later on in the Gospel. Meanwhile, as Nicodemus leaves the stage, he also leaves us to wonder what Jesus is asking us to let go of.
Our Southeastern Minnesota Synod Bishop Regina Hassanally sent out Lenten greetings via video last week. I think her comments can help us think more deeply about our journey from death to life in Lent.
As you continue your Lenten journey, I invite you to ponder where Jesus is inviting you into a deeper understanding of your life with him, about what may need to die to give you life. I know that I have identified a number of areas that I want to continue working on. As your interim pastor, I also invite you to think corporately as a church as well as individually. I want you to ask what at Grace needs to die so that God would bring about new life, where Grace needs to be born again or born from above. Either way, remember the good news: God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but so that the world might be saved through him. Amen.
For an audio version of this message, please click here.
Lent 2A
March 8, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 3.1-17; Genesis 12.1-4a
Change is hard. Even when change is good, change is hard. For example, a job promotion may mean moving and changing everything. You are asked to leave who and what you know behind for the unknown and unfamiliar. Then, with loss comes grief and the uncertainty of what lies ahead, even when what’s past is awful. An abused spouse finds it difficult to leave an unhealthy marriage or an alcoholic a destructive life. Knowing that the change you are making is the right thing doesn’t always make it easier.
In our Old Testament and Gospel readings for today, both Abraham and Nicodemus are being pushed to make significant changes in their lives. Abraham is asked to leave everything behind to settle a new land based on an unlikely promise of a son. It seems like a fool’s errand. Nicodemus, on the other hand, is a religious leader and part of the establishment. Interestingly, he comes to Jesus under the cover of darkness. He has what we call in John’s Gospel a “signs faith.” Signs faith is believing in Jesus based on the signs Jesus has done yet superficial and inadequate for the relationship of new life. For both Nicodemus and Abraham, change is hard.
Today we have the first of four readings in John, my favorite Gospel. It has been said of this Gospel that it is like a river, both shallow enough for children to wade in and deep enough for elephants to swim. It’s that simple and that difficult all at the same time. The story of Nicodemus is a great example, with John 3.16, the “gospel in a nutshell,” as Martin Luther says. But it also includes Jesus’ confusing but characteristic play on words about being born anew or born from above. And then there is the play on words for wind, breath and spirit as well. Finally, there are several polarities in John, including the themes of light and darkness, and life and death,
Nicodemus comes under the cover of darkness, perhaps so as not to be seen by his fellow religious leaders but John’s message is clear: Nicodemus is “in the dark” nonetheless. In their conversation, Jesus challenges Nicodemus’ understanding of God’s working in the world. He invites Nicodemus to go deeper and to let go of what he thinks he knows about God. Then Nicodemus fades away from today’s story, perhaps uncertain what Jesus is asking of him, although he does show up again later on in the Gospel. Meanwhile, as Nicodemus leaves the stage, he also leaves us to wonder what Jesus is asking us to let go of.
Our Southeastern Minnesota Synod Bishop Regina Hassanally sent out Lenten greetings via video last week. I think her comments can help us think more deeply about our journey from death to life in Lent.
As you continue your Lenten journey, I invite you to ponder where Jesus is inviting you into a deeper understanding of your life with him, about what may need to die to give you life. I know that I have identified a number of areas that I want to continue working on. As your interim pastor, I also invite you to think corporately as a church as well as individually. I want you to ask what at Grace needs to die so that God would bring about new life, where Grace needs to be born again or born from above. Either way, remember the good news: God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but so that the world might be saved through him. Amen.
For an audio version of this message, please click here.
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