You Are Blessed
Epiphany 3 – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 25, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 5.1-20
Last Sunday I had the privilege of participating in the interfaith candle lighting peace service at 1st Congregational Church. Thank you to those of you who attended as well. It was a good time to stand witness to our common desire for peace. As a few of us pastors were standing around waiting for the service to begin, I indulged one of my weaknesses: denominational snark. Denominational snark is poking good-natured fun at each of our distinctives as churches.
For example, I enjoy tweaking Presbyterian noses over predestination, the doctrine that says God destines certain folk to heaven and others, by default, to hell. Taking it a bit farther, I’ll say something like, “I’ll bet you’re glad that’s over.” With Methodists, I like to tweak their noses on their emphasis on holiness leading to Perfection, the idea that we can attain perfection in this life. To them I’ll say, “How’s that working for you?”
Now, you need to know that we Lutherans aren’t immune from denominational snark. For we who are Lutheran, the doctrine of Justification is so thoroughly ingrained (we saved by grace through faith, not of our own doing but as a free gift from gift) that we break out in hives over anything that smells of works righteousness, that we can earn our way to heaven. But, as I told my colleagues on Sunday, we need to get over that, because frankly, what we do matters. In other words, works count.
Today’s scripture is the beginning of the first and arguably the greatest block of Jesus’ teaching anywhere. The Sermon on the Mount firmly establishes Jesus as one who has authority like Moses. Like Moses, Jesus is up on the mountain, a place of revelation. Yet, instead of receiving the word from God on the mountain, Jesus teaches its proper interpretation. In fact, what is ironic is that Jesus would agree with the religious leaders that what we do makes a difference. However, Jesus disagrees with them about what that means, mostly because they have different starting points to talk about it.
The religious leaders start with the law, the things that they are asked to do because they are Jews living under the Mosaic covenant that God established. While Jesus doesn’t dismiss these rules and obligations—and even agrees they are important—he starts elsewhere. Now, here’s where reading the Bible as a story helps, because we remember what happens in Jesus’ baptism two weeks ago. God declared that Jesus was the Beloved Son and we learned that we are Beloved Children, too. The fact that we are God’s Beloved Children profoundly impacts how we live our lives in the world. Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Be salt” or “Be light!” Rather, Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.”
This declaration of our identity helps us to understand the kind of people that Jesus calls blessed, and they are not your usual suspects. Frankly, many of us (me included) use the word blessing incorrectly and almost frivolously. We take being blessed to means we have received something good. It’s true that being blessed is a sign of God’s favor, but what about people who have bad things happen to them? Are they not blessed? However, as Mike Baughman reminds us, “A blessing from God is more about being used by God than getting cool stuff.”
Now, this is by no means easy in our lives. Other commentators have noted that there is something about our God given identity that is somewhat mysterious, , not obvious and even hidden. In fact, other people may see God working in us more than we do. Our identity as God’s beloved is something of a mystery to us, because we have no idea what God might do with us or through us. Yet, in this rough and tumble world where we can get beaten up and broken, the good news is that God can not only use us despite what happens to us; God can use us because of what happens to us.
So, blessed are you who have suffered cancer and all sorts of physical challenges yet you reach out to others going through similar circumstances. Blessed are you who have experienced grief and loss and risk becoming overwhelmed again by embracing others who are doing the same. I hope you all can stay for the annual meeting because we’ll see more ways that God has blessed us by working in, with and through our lives. Meanwhile, blessed are you who connect and work for peace with people of all faiths, despite and maybe because of your snarky pastor. For this is God’s future kingdom breaking into today. Amen.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Sunday, January 18, 2015
"Since We Are…" - Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany
Since We Are…
Epiphany 2 – NL 1
January 18, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 4.1-17
Alexander the Great was a ruler in the Macedonia area of ancient Greece. He ascended to the throne at the tender age of 20 and spent most of his ruling life in an unprecedented military campaign that greatly expanded his father’s already vast kingdom. By the age of thirty his kingdom stretched from Greece to Egypt and into ancient northwest India. Alexander was undefeated in battle and considered one of history’s most successful commanders. A legend has it that after one battle, a soldier was brought before him to answer for cowardice, having run away during the fighting. Alexander the Great asked the young man what his name was and, when the solider replied, “Alexander,” the general flew into a rage. “Either you change your behavior,” he said, “or your name.”
The connection between identity and behavior is at the heart of our reading today. Last week, in the story of Jesus’ baptism, we learned about Jesus’ identity as Beloved Son of God. We recognized that what this identity means for us and for the world would unfold throughout the gospel, ultimately leading to cross and tomb. We also heard the good news that, because of our baptisms into Christ, we are beloved children of God, too. Because we use the Narrative Lectionary, we can see something we don’t ordinarily see with the Revised Common Lectionary. We see that the same Spirit who descends on Jesus in the form of a dove in his baptism immediately leads Jesus out into the wilderness where he is tested by the devil following a 40 day fast. After his successful duel and recovery, Jesus begins his public ministry of preaching, teaching and healing, declaring that the Kingdom of Heaven has come near with his presence. In response, we are to repent, turn around and walk toward life.
Narratively speaking, the testing of Jesus must have something to do to bridge his identity as the Son of God and his public ministry. Some commentators speculate that Jesus was tested much the same way we test doctors or beauticians, to make sure they have what it takes to do what they are supposed to do. Even so, I think the testing isn’t to determine if Jesus is up to snuff; it’s for us to know that he is. Moreover, through the temptation story we learn that in Jesus’ battle with evil in the form of sin, death and the devil he will brook no compromise. We can see this by a legitimate retranslation of the conditional “if” in the lesson to “since.” This translation gives an entirely new perspective of what the devil is saying: “Since you are the Son of God…”
We are tempted (pardon the pun) to say that because Jesus resisted the testing and because we are baptized into Jesus that we should be able to do the same. There’s just one problem: us. As the writer Rita Mae Brown has said, “Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way myself.” Or, as the eminent theologian Pogo (the cartoon character by Walt Kelly) says, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” Part of being human means realizing that we are not complete in and of ourselves. It means that we have an emptiness inside us that we try to fill with stuff, all which may be good, but from which we expect too much.
However, since we are God’s beloved children, we now realize that, although our identity doesn’t take away the hardships of life, it does give us courage to stand in the midst and find true life. It means that we listen for the voice of God rather than the voice of the tempter. That’s why our time of confession is so important, to be honest with ourselves about those times when we allow our temptations to define us, but more importantly, to hear the words of forgiveness that give us hope. We hear the voice of love rather than the voice of condemnation. It’s also why we are determined to offer Holy Communion at every service, every week, because we need to hear that as beloved children we are fed and forgiven, strengthened for God’s work. Next week, we’ll hear more about what that work as God’s beloved might entail, but for now hear the voice that declares that, since you are God’s beloved you have new life, no matter what. Amen.
Epiphany 2 – NL 1
January 18, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 4.1-17
Alexander the Great was a ruler in the Macedonia area of ancient Greece. He ascended to the throne at the tender age of 20 and spent most of his ruling life in an unprecedented military campaign that greatly expanded his father’s already vast kingdom. By the age of thirty his kingdom stretched from Greece to Egypt and into ancient northwest India. Alexander was undefeated in battle and considered one of history’s most successful commanders. A legend has it that after one battle, a soldier was brought before him to answer for cowardice, having run away during the fighting. Alexander the Great asked the young man what his name was and, when the solider replied, “Alexander,” the general flew into a rage. “Either you change your behavior,” he said, “or your name.”
The connection between identity and behavior is at the heart of our reading today. Last week, in the story of Jesus’ baptism, we learned about Jesus’ identity as Beloved Son of God. We recognized that what this identity means for us and for the world would unfold throughout the gospel, ultimately leading to cross and tomb. We also heard the good news that, because of our baptisms into Christ, we are beloved children of God, too. Because we use the Narrative Lectionary, we can see something we don’t ordinarily see with the Revised Common Lectionary. We see that the same Spirit who descends on Jesus in the form of a dove in his baptism immediately leads Jesus out into the wilderness where he is tested by the devil following a 40 day fast. After his successful duel and recovery, Jesus begins his public ministry of preaching, teaching and healing, declaring that the Kingdom of Heaven has come near with his presence. In response, we are to repent, turn around and walk toward life.
Narratively speaking, the testing of Jesus must have something to do to bridge his identity as the Son of God and his public ministry. Some commentators speculate that Jesus was tested much the same way we test doctors or beauticians, to make sure they have what it takes to do what they are supposed to do. Even so, I think the testing isn’t to determine if Jesus is up to snuff; it’s for us to know that he is. Moreover, through the temptation story we learn that in Jesus’ battle with evil in the form of sin, death and the devil he will brook no compromise. We can see this by a legitimate retranslation of the conditional “if” in the lesson to “since.” This translation gives an entirely new perspective of what the devil is saying: “Since you are the Son of God…”
We are tempted (pardon the pun) to say that because Jesus resisted the testing and because we are baptized into Jesus that we should be able to do the same. There’s just one problem: us. As the writer Rita Mae Brown has said, “Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way myself.” Or, as the eminent theologian Pogo (the cartoon character by Walt Kelly) says, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” Part of being human means realizing that we are not complete in and of ourselves. It means that we have an emptiness inside us that we try to fill with stuff, all which may be good, but from which we expect too much.
However, since we are God’s beloved children, we now realize that, although our identity doesn’t take away the hardships of life, it does give us courage to stand in the midst and find true life. It means that we listen for the voice of God rather than the voice of the tempter. That’s why our time of confession is so important, to be honest with ourselves about those times when we allow our temptations to define us, but more importantly, to hear the words of forgiveness that give us hope. We hear the voice of love rather than the voice of condemnation. It’s also why we are determined to offer Holy Communion at every service, every week, because we need to hear that as beloved children we are fed and forgiven, strengthened for God’s work. Next week, we’ll hear more about what that work as God’s beloved might entail, but for now hear the voice that declares that, since you are God’s beloved you have new life, no matter what. Amen.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
"Who Am I?" - Sermon for the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday
Who Am I?
Baptism of Our Lord Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 11, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 3.1-17
When I was a teenager, I became aware of the notion that teenagers are supposed to have identity crises. So, from time to time, I’d look in the mirror and wonder what it was and when mine was coming. The truth of the matter is that I pretty much knew who I was: a good student who loved to read, someone who loved sports though wasn’t the greatest at them, with the exception I was becoming a pretty good bowler. Sure, I had my fair share of insecurities as any teenager would, but I really wasn’t insecure about whom I was. Unless I was totally oblivious, it seemed that the people I hung around with were about the same. Of course, we tried on various identities like we tried on leisure suits and Nehru jackets, but that’s not quite the same, is it?
Today we hear Matthew’s version of Jesus’ baptism, one that is narrated in one form or another in all four gospels. Jesus’ baptism has given rise to not a small amount of scholarly squabbles and speculation: what did Jesus know about himself and when did he know it? Did Jesus know from the beginning that he was God’s Son, did he have a growing awareness of it, or was this a big surprise at his baptism? As interesting as this question is, the important point is that Jesus’ identity as God’s Son is proclaimed loudly and clearly. Jesus is not only God’s beloved Son, but God is also well pleased with Jesus. Now, what is just as important is that what Jesus’ identity as God’s beloved Son means for the world will continue to unfold throughout the gospel, culminating in his death and resurrection.
When I meet with parents prior to baptizing their child, we talk about the many promises contained in baptism. One of the promises God makes to us is that through God’s grace we have a new identity. Like Jesus, God declares to us that we are beloved children and claimed by God forever. We learn what the Pharisees and Sadducees needed to learn, that our ancestry or credentials, though an important part of our identity, are not the most important thing about us. Whatever your name, whatever identity you own or is thrust upon you, the only important identity you have is child of God.
In the musical film version of Les Miserables, the main character Jean Valjean has been released from prison after 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread. He is not able to get work, so he steals from a bishop who has given him food and lodging. After being caught by the police and dragged back to the bishop, Valjean experiences grace at the bishop’s hand. Valjean is not only allowed to keep the silverware he has stolen, but is given silver candlesticks as well. Following this overwhelming act of forgiveness and grace, Valjean sings a soliloquy, “What Have I Done.” It ends with these lines: “As I stare into the void/To the whirlpool of my sin/I'll escape now from that world/ From the world of Jean Valjean/Jean Valjean is nothing now/Another story must begin!” Valjean’s new identity as a child beloved of God led to work in the world that served others. Later in the story, he will have to confront is old identity because another man has been unjustly accused of being him and stands condemned. Valjean sings another song, “Who Am I,” that highlights the struggle we all face in our identities that the world insists to impose upon us.
As Valjean learned, if we don’t see ourselves as beloved children of God, then we won’t see others that way, either. So, to make this real, I want you to take out your smart phones, take a selfie and send it or post it in social media with these words: “I am a beloved child of God and you are, too.” If you don’t have smart phone, during the passing of the peace I want you turn to someone nearby and say these same words, “You are a beloved child of God; peace be with you.” Then, when you come forward for communion, dip your hands in the water, make the sign of the cross, and remember you are a beloved child of God. Nothing this world says or does can ever change that. Jesus Christ died and rose again so that this will always be true and that you will never be separated from that love. You are a beloved child of God. Amen.
Baptism of Our Lord Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 11, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 3.1-17
This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.
When I was a teenager, I became aware of the notion that teenagers are supposed to have identity crises. So, from time to time, I’d look in the mirror and wonder what it was and when mine was coming. The truth of the matter is that I pretty much knew who I was: a good student who loved to read, someone who loved sports though wasn’t the greatest at them, with the exception I was becoming a pretty good bowler. Sure, I had my fair share of insecurities as any teenager would, but I really wasn’t insecure about whom I was. Unless I was totally oblivious, it seemed that the people I hung around with were about the same. Of course, we tried on various identities like we tried on leisure suits and Nehru jackets, but that’s not quite the same, is it?
Today we hear Matthew’s version of Jesus’ baptism, one that is narrated in one form or another in all four gospels. Jesus’ baptism has given rise to not a small amount of scholarly squabbles and speculation: what did Jesus know about himself and when did he know it? Did Jesus know from the beginning that he was God’s Son, did he have a growing awareness of it, or was this a big surprise at his baptism? As interesting as this question is, the important point is that Jesus’ identity as God’s Son is proclaimed loudly and clearly. Jesus is not only God’s beloved Son, but God is also well pleased with Jesus. Now, what is just as important is that what Jesus’ identity as God’s beloved Son means for the world will continue to unfold throughout the gospel, culminating in his death and resurrection.
When I meet with parents prior to baptizing their child, we talk about the many promises contained in baptism. One of the promises God makes to us is that through God’s grace we have a new identity. Like Jesus, God declares to us that we are beloved children and claimed by God forever. We learn what the Pharisees and Sadducees needed to learn, that our ancestry or credentials, though an important part of our identity, are not the most important thing about us. Whatever your name, whatever identity you own or is thrust upon you, the only important identity you have is child of God.
In the musical film version of Les Miserables, the main character Jean Valjean has been released from prison after 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread. He is not able to get work, so he steals from a bishop who has given him food and lodging. After being caught by the police and dragged back to the bishop, Valjean experiences grace at the bishop’s hand. Valjean is not only allowed to keep the silverware he has stolen, but is given silver candlesticks as well. Following this overwhelming act of forgiveness and grace, Valjean sings a soliloquy, “What Have I Done.” It ends with these lines: “As I stare into the void/To the whirlpool of my sin/I'll escape now from that world/ From the world of Jean Valjean/Jean Valjean is nothing now/Another story must begin!” Valjean’s new identity as a child beloved of God led to work in the world that served others. Later in the story, he will have to confront is old identity because another man has been unjustly accused of being him and stands condemned. Valjean sings another song, “Who Am I,” that highlights the struggle we all face in our identities that the world insists to impose upon us.
As Valjean learned, if we don’t see ourselves as beloved children of God, then we won’t see others that way, either. So, to make this real, I want you to take out your smart phones, take a selfie and send it or post it in social media with these words: “I am a beloved child of God and you are, too.” If you don’t have smart phone, during the passing of the peace I want you turn to someone nearby and say these same words, “You are a beloved child of God; peace be with you.” Then, when you come forward for communion, dip your hands in the water, make the sign of the cross, and remember you are a beloved child of God. Nothing this world says or does can ever change that. Jesus Christ died and rose again so that this will always be true and that you will never be separated from that love. You are a beloved child of God. Amen.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
"There and Back Again" - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Christmas
There and Back Again
Christmas 2 – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 4, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 2.13-23
It seems there has been an uptick the last few years with “remade” fairy tales or children’s stories, such as Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and, if it counts, The Wizard of Oz. What I find interesting is that these are often told from another perspective than is familiar to us. What’s even more interesting is that the other viewpoint is often the typically “evil” character and one who becomes sympathetic from this new vantage point. One takeaway from these retellings is that life is more complex, more gray than black and white, than care to we admit. This holds true for our focus scripture today as we hear the story from Matthew told from a number of viewpoints. The most obvious is Joseph who we believe is sympathetic, but certainly not evil. Then there’s another side of the birth story that certainly is evil, yet not sympathetic, at least not to us: Herod.
We’ve gone through the increasing darkness of Advent that was exploded by the light of Jesus’ birth, and now it seems that we are right back into the darkness again with this brutal story about Herod’s mass killing. If nothing else, the slaughter of the innocents is a grim reminder that evil doesn’t take a break. In fact, it is also a reminder that God’s acts of peace and justice evoke responses of hostility. To say that “No good deed goes unpunished” would sound trite, if it were not for the Herod’s of this world. And if we needed reminding, the fearful response of Herod to the birth of Jesus shows how important God’s incarnation is to this broken world.
Now, it would be easy for us to put some distance between ourselves and the brutality of the text by doing some pew-side theologizing. We could (rightly) talk about the intentional connections Matthew is making between Jesus’ birth and the Old Testament story of Moses birth and subsequent leading of the Israelites out of Egypt. We would see Herod as a latter day Pharaoh, who also fearfully slaughtered innocent male babies and we would talk about God’s miraculous deliverance and provision for his appointed savior. Yet, none of that takes the pain away from parents who witness an untimely and violent end to their child’s life, who wonder how God who is supposed to be with us as Immanuel bails on us when we need him most.
This won’t be the last challenging text we’ll encounter in Matthew, for Jesus says some hard things to say to us. But it will be helpful to remember that these texts aren’t puzzles to be solved for answers as much as they are stories to stretch us in our understanding who God is and what it means to be people of faith. It would be natural to flee from the horror and tragedy of this story, but all appearances to the contrary, that’s not God’s way. For, in fact, God has not abandoned the people and Jesus will return to fulfill God’s mission to bring the world back to him. Jesus will do that by fully entering the darkness. God became flesh and blood not only to experience all of our pain, agony, and heartbreak, but also to show us that we are not alone in the midst of them.
I have known of people who have experienced a tragic loss and who say they are abandoned by their friends afterwards. Why? It’s because people don’t know what to say when this happens. Ironically, when we are going through these difficult times, we just want someone to weep with us and tell us we aren’t alone, that we will get through it. The scripture fulfillment theme in Matthews reminds us that God is in this, even when we can’t see, and that God weeps with us as we weep. As God’s gathered community, we are also called to weep with others. There is more to the story, of course, and the story won’t end until Jesus draws us all into it. Meanwhile, we are to be Rachels to our world, walking with the heartbroken with the love we show best, showing the hurting that Jesus is Emanuel, God with them. That is no fairy tale and it’s the perspective we need. Amen.
Christmas 2 – Narrative Lectionary 1
January 4, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 2.13-23
It seems there has been an uptick the last few years with “remade” fairy tales or children’s stories, such as Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and, if it counts, The Wizard of Oz. What I find interesting is that these are often told from another perspective than is familiar to us. What’s even more interesting is that the other viewpoint is often the typically “evil” character and one who becomes sympathetic from this new vantage point. One takeaway from these retellings is that life is more complex, more gray than black and white, than care to we admit. This holds true for our focus scripture today as we hear the story from Matthew told from a number of viewpoints. The most obvious is Joseph who we believe is sympathetic, but certainly not evil. Then there’s another side of the birth story that certainly is evil, yet not sympathetic, at least not to us: Herod.
We’ve gone through the increasing darkness of Advent that was exploded by the light of Jesus’ birth, and now it seems that we are right back into the darkness again with this brutal story about Herod’s mass killing. If nothing else, the slaughter of the innocents is a grim reminder that evil doesn’t take a break. In fact, it is also a reminder that God’s acts of peace and justice evoke responses of hostility. To say that “No good deed goes unpunished” would sound trite, if it were not for the Herod’s of this world. And if we needed reminding, the fearful response of Herod to the birth of Jesus shows how important God’s incarnation is to this broken world.
Now, it would be easy for us to put some distance between ourselves and the brutality of the text by doing some pew-side theologizing. We could (rightly) talk about the intentional connections Matthew is making between Jesus’ birth and the Old Testament story of Moses birth and subsequent leading of the Israelites out of Egypt. We would see Herod as a latter day Pharaoh, who also fearfully slaughtered innocent male babies and we would talk about God’s miraculous deliverance and provision for his appointed savior. Yet, none of that takes the pain away from parents who witness an untimely and violent end to their child’s life, who wonder how God who is supposed to be with us as Immanuel bails on us when we need him most.
This won’t be the last challenging text we’ll encounter in Matthew, for Jesus says some hard things to say to us. But it will be helpful to remember that these texts aren’t puzzles to be solved for answers as much as they are stories to stretch us in our understanding who God is and what it means to be people of faith. It would be natural to flee from the horror and tragedy of this story, but all appearances to the contrary, that’s not God’s way. For, in fact, God has not abandoned the people and Jesus will return to fulfill God’s mission to bring the world back to him. Jesus will do that by fully entering the darkness. God became flesh and blood not only to experience all of our pain, agony, and heartbreak, but also to show us that we are not alone in the midst of them.
I have known of people who have experienced a tragic loss and who say they are abandoned by their friends afterwards. Why? It’s because people don’t know what to say when this happens. Ironically, when we are going through these difficult times, we just want someone to weep with us and tell us we aren’t alone, that we will get through it. The scripture fulfillment theme in Matthews reminds us that God is in this, even when we can’t see, and that God weeps with us as we weep. As God’s gathered community, we are also called to weep with others. There is more to the story, of course, and the story won’t end until Jesus draws us all into it. Meanwhile, we are to be Rachels to our world, walking with the heartbroken with the love we show best, showing the hurting that Jesus is Emanuel, God with them. That is no fairy tale and it’s the perspective we need. Amen.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
"Good News of Great Joy" - Sermon for Christmas Eve
Good News of Great Joy
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 2.1-20
As we gather to celebrate the birth of Christ, it seems only natural to think of past Christmases. I particularly think about how people engage Christmas differently. For example, my sister was a Nosy Nellie, always trying to figure out her presents, which made disguising them more rewarding when she couldn’t figure them out. My parents were Bean Counters, making sure that they spent the exact amount on each of four children, down to the penny. My bachelor uncle was the resident Scrooge who, when we invited him each year, insisted we not buy him anything. We did, of course, and he grumbled about it, but he came anyway. I think I was—and still am—more of a lurker than a celebrator. Whether my stoicism has been bred into me or any exuberance I might have had has been beat out of me is debatable; it could be a little of both. Either way, I like to sit back and watch the happenings rather than jumping in.
Before I read the nativity story, I asked you to listen for the place or places that you find yourself lingering. So, where is that? Where do you find yourself pausing and pondering, perhaps like Mary did? Did you wonder about the Imperial Roman occupying forces who demanded such and arduous trip for Mary and Joseph, imposing the will of the Empire upon them? Did you think about this young couple and what they were going through having their first baby, especially so far away from family and friends? Perhaps you imagined yourself as a shepherd in the quiet countryside and suddenly having your world rocked. Or maybe you wondered what it would be like standing at the manger, longing to hold the Creator of the Universe in your arms.
Perhaps it is the lurker in me that is being drawn to the shepherds that first Christmas, far away from the action. Of course, in one sense, shepherds didn’t have any choice, because that’s where the sheep are kept. However, aside from the fact that they wouldn’t even have been welcome without the sheep—unclean and unwanted doesn’t begin to describe them—God chooses to break into their isolated existence. And God doesn’t send meek and mild Clarence from “It’s a Wonderful Life”; no, this is a heaven-splitting, earth-shattering army of angels that seeks them out and meets them where they are, in the darkness and isolation.
I don’t think it’s just me, because others have said so, but doesn’t the world seem a bit darker this Christmas? It’s not just the gloomy weather either, though that doesn’t help. Place such as Ferguson, New York City, Syria, North Korea and Afghanistan are not far from our thoughts, not to mention Ebola, domestic violence, sexual assaults, protests and counter protests, and more than I care to say. Even the joy we feel at the birth of a baby tonight is tempered by our real-life experiences. It takes sweat, tears and hard work to bring a baby into this world and even harder work raising them, let alone the dangers that lurk to threaten them. And we also realize that Christmas is not joyful for those undergoing the agony of infertility. Yet it is precisely the birth of this particular baby that we need to remember tonight.
The birth of Jesus is a timely reminder that though the world is dark, the world is not forsaken, let alone God-forsaken. Why does it matter where we are tonight or any night? Because wherever it is, in whatever darkness we find ourselves, Jesus meets us where we are. The shepherds had no expectation of being touched by God that night, but God did; God can and does touch us, too. The good news of great joy is that God shows up where we least expect and always for us. Jesus is not just in a beautiful candlelit church where we sing lovely carols; Jesus is born out there, wherever people need him the most. This good news is not too good to be true; rather, this news is too good not to be true. Jesus is born to us.
Of course, that first Christmas wasn’t the end of the story. For the babe wrapped in cloths and laid in a manger would thirty years later be wrapped in a shroud and laid in a tomb. But we know that wasn’t the end, either. The shepherds will go back to where they came from, but they will not go back to business as usual, for has God met them and in the meeting changed them forever. Where has Jesus met you this past year, perhaps in the darkest times of your life? More importantly, where do you need Jesus to meet you in the year ahead? Wherever you find yourself, whether a Nosy Nellie, Bean Counter, Scrooge, or even Lurker, look for God to break into your world with this good news for you. For to you this day—and every day—God comes to bring light, love and hope to your darkness. Merry Christmas! Amen.
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 2.1-20
As we gather to celebrate the birth of Christ, it seems only natural to think of past Christmases. I particularly think about how people engage Christmas differently. For example, my sister was a Nosy Nellie, always trying to figure out her presents, which made disguising them more rewarding when she couldn’t figure them out. My parents were Bean Counters, making sure that they spent the exact amount on each of four children, down to the penny. My bachelor uncle was the resident Scrooge who, when we invited him each year, insisted we not buy him anything. We did, of course, and he grumbled about it, but he came anyway. I think I was—and still am—more of a lurker than a celebrator. Whether my stoicism has been bred into me or any exuberance I might have had has been beat out of me is debatable; it could be a little of both. Either way, I like to sit back and watch the happenings rather than jumping in.
Before I read the nativity story, I asked you to listen for the place or places that you find yourself lingering. So, where is that? Where do you find yourself pausing and pondering, perhaps like Mary did? Did you wonder about the Imperial Roman occupying forces who demanded such and arduous trip for Mary and Joseph, imposing the will of the Empire upon them? Did you think about this young couple and what they were going through having their first baby, especially so far away from family and friends? Perhaps you imagined yourself as a shepherd in the quiet countryside and suddenly having your world rocked. Or maybe you wondered what it would be like standing at the manger, longing to hold the Creator of the Universe in your arms.
Perhaps it is the lurker in me that is being drawn to the shepherds that first Christmas, far away from the action. Of course, in one sense, shepherds didn’t have any choice, because that’s where the sheep are kept. However, aside from the fact that they wouldn’t even have been welcome without the sheep—unclean and unwanted doesn’t begin to describe them—God chooses to break into their isolated existence. And God doesn’t send meek and mild Clarence from “It’s a Wonderful Life”; no, this is a heaven-splitting, earth-shattering army of angels that seeks them out and meets them where they are, in the darkness and isolation.
I don’t think it’s just me, because others have said so, but doesn’t the world seem a bit darker this Christmas? It’s not just the gloomy weather either, though that doesn’t help. Place such as Ferguson, New York City, Syria, North Korea and Afghanistan are not far from our thoughts, not to mention Ebola, domestic violence, sexual assaults, protests and counter protests, and more than I care to say. Even the joy we feel at the birth of a baby tonight is tempered by our real-life experiences. It takes sweat, tears and hard work to bring a baby into this world and even harder work raising them, let alone the dangers that lurk to threaten them. And we also realize that Christmas is not joyful for those undergoing the agony of infertility. Yet it is precisely the birth of this particular baby that we need to remember tonight.
The birth of Jesus is a timely reminder that though the world is dark, the world is not forsaken, let alone God-forsaken. Why does it matter where we are tonight or any night? Because wherever it is, in whatever darkness we find ourselves, Jesus meets us where we are. The shepherds had no expectation of being touched by God that night, but God did; God can and does touch us, too. The good news of great joy is that God shows up where we least expect and always for us. Jesus is not just in a beautiful candlelit church where we sing lovely carols; Jesus is born out there, wherever people need him the most. This good news is not too good to be true; rather, this news is too good not to be true. Jesus is born to us.
Of course, that first Christmas wasn’t the end of the story. For the babe wrapped in cloths and laid in a manger would thirty years later be wrapped in a shroud and laid in a tomb. But we know that wasn’t the end, either. The shepherds will go back to where they came from, but they will not go back to business as usual, for has God met them and in the meeting changed them forever. Where has Jesus met you this past year, perhaps in the darkest times of your life? More importantly, where do you need Jesus to meet you in the year ahead? Wherever you find yourself, whether a Nosy Nellie, Bean Counter, Scrooge, or even Lurker, look for God to break into your world with this good news for you. For to you this day—and every day—God comes to bring light, love and hope to your darkness. Merry Christmas! Amen.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
"Love Comes Down" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent
Love Comes Down
Advent 4 – Narrative Lectionary 1
December 21, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 1.18-25
In the TV show, “Person of Interest,” a man named Harold has built a supercomputer for the US government that can not only see what happens but it can also predict felonious actions. However, the government is only interested in detecting acts of terrorism, considering others “irrelevant.” Upset at this notion of irrelevance, Harold has assembled a team to help everyday people in their lives. Unfortunately, the only information he receives from “the machine” is a number. It is up to him and his team to figure out if the “number” is a victim or perpetrator and how they can help.
As the seasons have progressed, the allusions between the machine and an all-seeing, all-knowing God deepen and broaden. Leaving that idea aside for another day, what strikes me today is the connection between Harold and Joseph, designated by God as the father of Jesus. It may not seem so, but the way forward for both of them is fraught with moral and ethical ambiguity. Joseph, like Harold and his team, is a good person wanting to do right, but he and they are also human. Being human not only means being aware of and having to deal with competing and conflicting goods; it also means being fearful at the prospect. Then there is also our natural inclination to self-interest, to preserving our own lives. Finally, being human means our natural confusion on how to deal with complex situations.
Also like Harold and his team, this new assignment that Joseph receives is disruptive and open-ended. God rocks Joseph’s world with these new instructions. God draws a picture of a new reality for Joseph and then draws him into this new vision of reality. This new reality declares, as we have seen in our trip through the Old Testament, that God is not a “one and done” kind of god, who sets things in motion and leaves. God is continually at work in our world. This new reality has a goal, for God to draw all people into God’s loving embrace. But the way we get there is anything but certain; we really are making it up as we go along.
Even so, to say that we are “making it up” doesn’t mean we are left helpless or to our own devices. The main point of today’s lesson is that love comes down to us; it always has and it always will. Joseph is called to obedience and trust in the work God has called him to do on God’s behalf. Yet it’s important to remember that God’s grace always appears before any demand is made on us. In fact, it is grace that enables us to respond to God’s call. In other words, it was Joseph’s trust in God’s steadfast love that enabled him to do the right thing. And, we might note, more often than not, doing the right thing is often the most difficult thing. However, I would also note that doing the right thing is also the most loving thing.
As Matthew’s gospel unfolds, we will see that Matthew’s Jesus is all about the response of faith, and Jesus is often very pointed about how we are to respond. Yet, it is important to know that “doing the right thing” is bracketed by God’s grace and love. Today, in the first chapter, we learn that Jesus is Immanuel, God with Us. Love always comes down. It is also the last thing that Jesus says to us: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them all that I have commanded you. And lo I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” This Christmas, and always, know that even though you may not know exactly where your journey will lead you and what your “assignment” is, God is and always will be, Immanuel, God with you. Love always comes down. Amen.
Advent 4 – Narrative Lectionary 1
December 21, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 1.18-25
In the TV show, “Person of Interest,” a man named Harold has built a supercomputer for the US government that can not only see what happens but it can also predict felonious actions. However, the government is only interested in detecting acts of terrorism, considering others “irrelevant.” Upset at this notion of irrelevance, Harold has assembled a team to help everyday people in their lives. Unfortunately, the only information he receives from “the machine” is a number. It is up to him and his team to figure out if the “number” is a victim or perpetrator and how they can help.
As the seasons have progressed, the allusions between the machine and an all-seeing, all-knowing God deepen and broaden. Leaving that idea aside for another day, what strikes me today is the connection between Harold and Joseph, designated by God as the father of Jesus. It may not seem so, but the way forward for both of them is fraught with moral and ethical ambiguity. Joseph, like Harold and his team, is a good person wanting to do right, but he and they are also human. Being human not only means being aware of and having to deal with competing and conflicting goods; it also means being fearful at the prospect. Then there is also our natural inclination to self-interest, to preserving our own lives. Finally, being human means our natural confusion on how to deal with complex situations.
Also like Harold and his team, this new assignment that Joseph receives is disruptive and open-ended. God rocks Joseph’s world with these new instructions. God draws a picture of a new reality for Joseph and then draws him into this new vision of reality. This new reality declares, as we have seen in our trip through the Old Testament, that God is not a “one and done” kind of god, who sets things in motion and leaves. God is continually at work in our world. This new reality has a goal, for God to draw all people into God’s loving embrace. But the way we get there is anything but certain; we really are making it up as we go along.
Even so, to say that we are “making it up” doesn’t mean we are left helpless or to our own devices. The main point of today’s lesson is that love comes down to us; it always has and it always will. Joseph is called to obedience and trust in the work God has called him to do on God’s behalf. Yet it’s important to remember that God’s grace always appears before any demand is made on us. In fact, it is grace that enables us to respond to God’s call. In other words, it was Joseph’s trust in God’s steadfast love that enabled him to do the right thing. And, we might note, more often than not, doing the right thing is often the most difficult thing. However, I would also note that doing the right thing is also the most loving thing.
As Matthew’s gospel unfolds, we will see that Matthew’s Jesus is all about the response of faith, and Jesus is often very pointed about how we are to respond. Yet, it is important to know that “doing the right thing” is bracketed by God’s grace and love. Today, in the first chapter, we learn that Jesus is Immanuel, God with Us. Love always comes down. It is also the last thing that Jesus says to us: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them all that I have commanded you. And lo I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” This Christmas, and always, know that even though you may not know exactly where your journey will lead you and what your “assignment” is, God is and always will be, Immanuel, God with you. Love always comes down. Amen.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
"Joyous Light" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent
Joyous Light
Advent 3 – Narrative Lectionary 1
December 14, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Isaiah 42.1-9
One smart aleck, commenting on our penchant for grouping people, says there are two kinds of people in the world, those who divide the world into two groups and those who don’t. At the risk of being a smart aleck, I find myself mentally thinking of two kinds of people who may be listening today: those whose lives are going along pretty well and those whose lives aren’t. I think that there are a number of us who are generally doing okay, first-world problems aside like a not so good meal at a restaurant or your TV show being interrupted by a news conference. There are others who are barely hanging on, for who Christmas isn’t joyous and who are struggling to make it day to day. Though I have my suspicions, I don’t assume to know which is which.
Yet, both of you are here today, presumably to hear some kind of good word to sustain you. The prophet Isaiah brings just such a good word to the Israelites, most of whom fall in the latter group, whose lives aren’t going well. The temple in Jerusalem has been destroyed, they have been forcibly removed from their homes, they have been resettled in a foreign country and they can’t understand how God let this happen to them. In fact, most of them wondered if God has abandoned them or worse, if their God even exists. Isaiah says to them that all evidence to the contrary, God is very much involved in their lives, a word that all of us need to hear, regardless of what group we find ourselves in.
In fact, not only God tells them that he will not blow out whatever little flame they might have, but remarkably, the lights they have will burn brightly enough to bring light to other people. No matter how hopeless and joyless they might feel, God is nowhere near done with them yet. Isaiah presents this incredible vision of a people who, in the midst of brokenness and in spite of their brokenness (or even more remarkably, because of their brokenness), will be a light to others. Through them the blind will see and those in prison will be loosed into the light of day.
I can only imagine how this good would have been received by the Jews in their captivity. I dare say it was a word of great joy, even in the midst of some horrific circumstances. I think about the joy we get buying tickets for Florida in the midst of blowing snow and cold. Or I think about the joy children feel when, even though the days get shorter their eyes light up at the sight of a decorated tree or a package beneath it. I think about those who weep at the casket of a loved one yet receive joy over shared memories as they are surrounded by friends and family. I think of people who are going through cancer or other diseases who joyously receive love and grace as they are cared for by a community of faith.
Five hundred years after Isaiah proclaimed his message, the Israelites were in another period of darkness, this time through the occupation by the Roman army. In the midst of this darkness, those who followed Jesus experienced just this kind of joy at his coming. And as they looked back through scripture, the recognized that he fit Isaiah’s description of God’s chosen servant. We who follow 2,000 years later, whether our lives are going pretty well or not, seek to become more like the servant Jesus, to be joyous lights to our world just like St. Lucia was in her day and time. If you are in a period of darkness, know that God is nursing your light. And if your life is going pretty well, God seeks for you to share that light with others who can’t quite see the way forward. Either way, let your light shine, for God is with you bringing good news to all the earth. Amen.
Advent 3 – Narrative Lectionary 1
December 14, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Isaiah 42.1-9
One smart aleck, commenting on our penchant for grouping people, says there are two kinds of people in the world, those who divide the world into two groups and those who don’t. At the risk of being a smart aleck, I find myself mentally thinking of two kinds of people who may be listening today: those whose lives are going along pretty well and those whose lives aren’t. I think that there are a number of us who are generally doing okay, first-world problems aside like a not so good meal at a restaurant or your TV show being interrupted by a news conference. There are others who are barely hanging on, for who Christmas isn’t joyous and who are struggling to make it day to day. Though I have my suspicions, I don’t assume to know which is which.
Yet, both of you are here today, presumably to hear some kind of good word to sustain you. The prophet Isaiah brings just such a good word to the Israelites, most of whom fall in the latter group, whose lives aren’t going well. The temple in Jerusalem has been destroyed, they have been forcibly removed from their homes, they have been resettled in a foreign country and they can’t understand how God let this happen to them. In fact, most of them wondered if God has abandoned them or worse, if their God even exists. Isaiah says to them that all evidence to the contrary, God is very much involved in their lives, a word that all of us need to hear, regardless of what group we find ourselves in.
In fact, not only God tells them that he will not blow out whatever little flame they might have, but remarkably, the lights they have will burn brightly enough to bring light to other people. No matter how hopeless and joyless they might feel, God is nowhere near done with them yet. Isaiah presents this incredible vision of a people who, in the midst of brokenness and in spite of their brokenness (or even more remarkably, because of their brokenness), will be a light to others. Through them the blind will see and those in prison will be loosed into the light of day.
I can only imagine how this good would have been received by the Jews in their captivity. I dare say it was a word of great joy, even in the midst of some horrific circumstances. I think about the joy we get buying tickets for Florida in the midst of blowing snow and cold. Or I think about the joy children feel when, even though the days get shorter their eyes light up at the sight of a decorated tree or a package beneath it. I think about those who weep at the casket of a loved one yet receive joy over shared memories as they are surrounded by friends and family. I think of people who are going through cancer or other diseases who joyously receive love and grace as they are cared for by a community of faith.
Five hundred years after Isaiah proclaimed his message, the Israelites were in another period of darkness, this time through the occupation by the Roman army. In the midst of this darkness, those who followed Jesus experienced just this kind of joy at his coming. And as they looked back through scripture, the recognized that he fit Isaiah’s description of God’s chosen servant. We who follow 2,000 years later, whether our lives are going pretty well or not, seek to become more like the servant Jesus, to be joyous lights to our world just like St. Lucia was in her day and time. If you are in a period of darkness, know that God is nursing your light. And if your life is going pretty well, God seeks for you to share that light with others who can’t quite see the way forward. Either way, let your light shine, for God is with you bringing good news to all the earth. Amen.
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