"Holy Community" - Sermon for Maundy Thursday

Holy Community
Maundy Thursday – Narrative Lectionary 4
March 29, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 19.23-30

“Woman here is your son. [Son], here is your mother.”

It seems like an eternity since Jesus had his final meal with his followers, what we know as the Last Supper. We read a portion of this story on the First Sunday in Lent. In reality, however, and narratively speaking only a few hours have passed since he delivered his “Farewell Discourse,” that long body of instructions for his closest friends ending with what is known as the “High Priestly Prayer.” Jesus knew that they would feel lost and alone without him and no doubt be scattered, so he gave them assurances that the Holy Spirit would be guiding them, keeping them together. Here, at the cross, Jesus continues that work of community building in some of his last words.

 “Woman here is your son. [Son], here is your mother,” Jesus tells his mother Mary and the follower known as the “Beloved Disciple.” Much ink has been spilled trying to tease out the symbolism of Jesus’ words, and frankly some or it is quite fanciful. But at its basic level, I think Jesus’ actions demonstrate his desire to provide a future for those who believe in him, a future that creates a united community who support and care for each other. The community that is formed is not just any community; it is a community formed both at the cross and by the cross. Because of cruciform community, in the midst of the worst that life can throw at us we come together and not get blown apart.

To illustrate an important part of that cruciform community, I want you to take a moment and think about a really memorable meal you’ve had and make it a good one. Like many of you, it might be hard to choose, but I think back to when I was growing up and my family would always get together with the Fleming Family twice a year. We were neighbors for the first five years of my life and most my siblings were the same age as theirs. The meal I remember most was when I first got to sit at the “adult table” instead of the “kids table.” I don’t remember what we ate, but it was wonderful.

Now, as you think about your memorable meal, I’m betting that you weren’t alone when you ate it. I’ll bet that you were with someone or several some ones, and if you weren’t I’m pretty sure you wish you had been. It is almost a law that good community involves good food and good food involves good community.

Today is Maundy Thursday, that time we usually celebrate the commandment that Jesus gives us at the Last Supper, to love one another as he has loved us. (The word Maundy comes from the Latin word mandatum, which means “command.”) As such, it is an opportunity to celebrate the gift of Holy Communion, the gift of God’s grace whereby God gives his very self to us in, with and through the elements of bread and wine. But for tonight, I want to call it “Holy Community” because just as we come to the table by faith, trusting in God’s goodness, for faith, we also come to the table in community, for community.

There are a lot of ways to connect with God, but the very best of them are done with others. You see, there is no way you can do this sacrament alone, nor should you. And I must say that you’d have to work awfully hard to come to the table mad at someone and leave the same way. That’s why it’s so important we gather at least weekly and offer “Holy Community” every time. Now, one last instruction: look at those around you. (You don’t have to make eye contact, but just look.) “Brothers and sisters, here are your sisters and brothers in Christ,” your “Holy Community.” Amen.

"Uncommon Sense" - Sermon for Palm Sunday

Uncommon Sense
Palm Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 4
March 25, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 19.16b-22 & John 12.12-17

Ralph and Rupert, friends since college and are now alumni of that same institution, were attending their class reunion. Rupert says to Ralph, “Say, Ralph, what do you think of our new college president?” “Well,” said Ralph, “He seems to think pretty much like I do.” “So,” said Rupert, “You must really like him and think he’s doing a fine job.” “Heck no,” said Ralph, “I don’t have enough sense to be a college president.”

Our readings from John today force us to ask what kind of leader we want versus what kind of leader we need. If you’ve been listening closely, you’ll notice that John’s gospel—far more than the other three—hammers home the point that Jesus is a king. And, if we’re honest, Jesus not the kind that thinks like us. If this scene were being played out today instead of 2,000 years ago, I think that you would see the religious leaders wearing baseball caps and waving banners that say, “M – I – G – A”: “Make Israel Great Again.” No doubt some of those people in the crowd waving palm branches thought that would happen as well.

But, Jesus isn’t the kind of king who steps into an arena armed with a sword, a shield, a spear and soldiers. Rather, Jesus steps into the arena laying bare the heart and soul of a God who loves us deeply. As we heard earlier this year, this God loves the world so much that he risks everything he is and has to bring new life to us. Jesus comes and shows us that the only kind of kingdom worth ruling and living in is the kind of kingdom that values compassion, the courage to open our hearts and connect with one another.

I have to admit that there are times when I am in utter despair because it seems like Jesus’ kingdom is nowhere to be seen. There are times when I wonder why I keep dragging myself into the pulpit, it all seems so futile. There are times when I wish Jesus would come back, kick some devilish butt, and finish it once and for all. But Jesus is my king and thank God I don’t have the sense to be one because every once in a while, if I pay attention, I can see Jesus’ uncommon sense at work in the world.

I take heart when I see our young people standing tall, saying that the way of violence is not a value we hold. I take heart when one of you expresses a soul-crushing concern for the hunger rampant in our world and seeks to give everything you have to feed people. I take heart when I see you who are wounded and hurting, walking with one another in pain, sustaining one another on your life’s journey. I am encouraged when I see you stepping into the arena daring to believe you can change things in our world.

Today we continue our journey with Jesus, going to a place where death happens so that we can have life. Part of that death is letting go of our vision of what life is going to be by following our king Jesus, even if it means going to the cross. In Jesus’ kingdom, that makes uncommon sense. Amen.

"Of Goats and Chickens" - Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent

Of Goats and Chickens
Lent 3 – Narrative Lectionary 4
March 4, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 18.12-27

Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people. (John 18.14)

One of the benefits of using the Narrative Lectionary is that each Gospel has its own “year.” We are currently in John and see the unique version of Jesus’ journey to the cross through John’s eyes. Another benefit is that we get to take our time on the way to Calvary. Although you will hear the story again on Good Friday, we will spend linger over the major events and characters in those events. However, the texts get harder to read, but no less important.

Last week we heard the story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, an act of love and service that they are to emulate. During this “Last Supper,” Jesus gives his followers last minute instructions and prepares them for his death. Since then, Jesus has gone out to the Mount of Olives and been arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane. Today’s reading focuses on Jesus’ interaction with Annas, a Jewish religious leader and father-in-law of the current high priest, Caiaphas. It was Caiaphas “who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.” Caiaphas’ words made me think of a scapegoat.

An online dictionary defines a scapegoat as “a person who is blamed for the wrongdoings, mistakes, or faults of others, especially for reasons of expediency.” Did you know that the term “scapegoat” originated in the Bible? In Leviticus 16 a goat sent into the wilderness after the Jewish chief priest had symbolically laid the sins of the people upon it. But the scapegoat is not limited to Judaism. Until his death a few years ago, Stanford scholar Rene Girard identified in every society and culture a scapegoating mechanism. In all societies you can find violence perpetrated on an individual or class of peoples for the purpose of uniting the community, creating calm and dispelling conflict. It is ironic that the Jewish people have suffered the most from the practice they developed.

It’s easy to see how some biblical interpreters have used Girard’s work, especially regarding Caiaphas’ comment, “it is better to have one person die for the people.” The Jewish people are under the thumb of the Roman Empire and Jesus’ presence has not helped. He has stirred up people, not the least of which are the Jewish leaders and something has to give, at least from their perspective. As we will see in the weeks to come, John is going to portray Jesus as the Passover lamb whose sacrifice liberates and delivers the people. However, Caiaphas, et al. view Jesus as a goat whose sacrifice takes the pressure off and restores peace. It’s a different kind of sacrifice.

If Peter’s behavior in our reading for today is any indication, Caiaphas’ strategy appears to be working. No way is Peter a hero in this story and he is not even a goat, at least as we define it today. He’s a chicken, symbolized by the vocal presence of the rooster behind him. While Jesus denies nothing, Peter denies everything, even his very identity as a follower of Jesus. Even as Jesus is arrested and says, “I am,” Peter three times emphatically insists, “I am not!” Fearing death, Peter lays aside his promise to follow Jesus everywhere, while Jesus remains loyal to his destiny to save the world. On this side of the resurrection it appears that Caiaphas and others like him will win the day.

The resurrection, of course, as it always does changes everything. Jesus willingly accepts the scapegoat role but only to overthrow it and undermine it. Because of the resurrection, a new counter-community—led by Peter of all people—will emerge and say “No” to violence. Peter’s three denials today will be expunged and replaced with three promises to tend and feed the sheep of God. And Jesus, as the risen Christ, will be the crucified one who will carry the wounds of the cross. We who are baptized into Christ’s death carry those wounds to remember that violence doesn’t win; love wins.

Today, as we walk the way of the cross, to the empty tomb and beyond, we are reminded how easy it would be for us to end up on the side of Jesus’ murderers by talking about Jesus’ sacrifice for us. We must own up to our own part in the structures of violence in this world, whether active or passive. We must remember that violence is never redemptive and when we are faced with the choice of resorting to violence we must always ask if it is necessary, knowing that the answer is almost always, “No.” We are able do this because of Jesus’ promise to give life still holds in the midst of fallible human beings, like Peter and even Caiaphas, like me and even you. Amen.

"Part and Parcel" - Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

Part and Parcel
Lent 2 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 25, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 13.-1-17

One day during college at Gustavus, it was either my junior or senior year, I walked into the cafeteria and approached a table with a few of my frat buddies. At the tables was Dave, who was arguably my best friend at Gustavus and for some years later. Needless to say, I was shocked when Dave looked at me in the eye and said, “I have no time for you, Scott.” Stunned and embarrassed, I slunk away, not knowing what I did to deserve such a public rebuke. Thankfully, Dave and I did talk later and we did resolve the problem between us. We are still friends to this day.

Though I rarely presume to tell people, “I know how you feel,” I think I can understand a bit of Peter’s embarrassment and shock in today’s reading. When Jesus tells Peter that, unless he lets Jesus wash his feet, he’ll have no part of him and have nothing to do with him, Peter gets appropriately flustered and upset. The occasion is the Last Supper, the last meal that Jesus has with his disciples before his passion. As we’ll see, this is not a Passover meal because the timing in John’s Gospel has Jesus crucified on Passover; Jesus is the Passover lamb. Even so, the Last Supper is a time for Jesus to give last minute instructions to his disciples before going the way of the cross.

As some wags have noted, it’s the longest after-dinner speech in the Bible, taking up chapters 13-17. Jesus knows it’s the last time he will have with his followers and he wants to make every minute count, but he acts before he speaks. As Mary Austin rather pointedly notes, “Instead of giving his disciples a strongly worded lecture about loyalty and honor, he takes off his robe, exposing more vulnerability.” It’s a prophetic act pointing to his death, the laying down of his robes showing his willingness to lay down his life for them and others. It’s an act of service to be emulated by them.

Washing someone’s feet is such an intimate act that in Jesus’ day masters could not force their slaves to do it. Perhaps that’s why it never became a sacrament, because is far too intimate of an act. (Although it’s been observed that if it was a sacrament, we’d argue about how often to do it, how old we need to be to receive it, and how much water to use.) As I thought about a modern parallel, I thought about and experience I had recently. A week ago I at a pastor’s retreat I had the opportunity to receive a massage, a first for me. (I know; tough duty.) I felt incredibly vulnerable to have a stranger touch me in such an intimate way. Yet, as humbling as the experience was, it was also incredibly life-giving.

I’ve talked often about sociologist Dr. Brené Brown’s work on vulnerability, about the importance of providing a place where we can make meaningful connections with others in our community of faith. Appropriate vulnerability and compassion are necessary to make connections with one another, to live with our whole hearts. Your leadership, the council, will be laying down a day and half to go on retreat Friday night and most of Saturday. They are doing it in order to serve you better so you can follow Jesus in service, to discern where Jesus is calling us as a community of faith “who live and work to serve others.” We will be reporting back to you what that means and how we’ll be moving forward together in faith, to be a part of Jesus.

Meanwhile, let Jesus love you. Let Jesus remove from you all that prevents you from following him. Let Jesus love you because love is still the best answer to every hurting, stinking thing in the world. Amen.

"Come Out!" - Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent

Come Out!
Lent 1 – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 18, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 11.1-44

When I met with Chandra and Brock to talk about Madelyn’s baptism, I told them a story about a similar meeting I had a number of years ago. During that meeting, for dramatic effect, I’d said to them, “We’re going to kill your baby this Sunday.” I had done it to highlight what Paul says in Romans 6 about being baptized into Jesus Christ’s death so that we might rise to new life. I also talked about in baptism we have a daily dying and rising in our own lives, dying to sin and rising to new life. Well, later I had learned that the father had barely restrained himself from coming at me over the desk he was so mad at me. I also learned that, as powerful as being baptized into Jesus is, death is no laughing matter. Even Jesus knows that.

In our reading today, after an inexplicable delay, Jesus comes to Bethany to confront death, but not before he is confronted by those closest to him. Martha and her sister, Mary, have, “meet Jesus moments” in which they stand toe-to-toe with him and give him a “what-for” about his delay. Out of them come some of the most faithful statements of anyone in the Bible about Jesus and who he is. Disciple Thomas gets into the act with the ironic comment of the day, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” Jesus, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, is “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” but he understands death.

Death and the attendant grief are all around Jesus and we know it will be his ultimate fate as well, which will become clearer in the weeks to come. And as enigmatic as Jesus sometimes appears, he is clearly moved by the grief of his loved ones. In his last and greatest sign before he travels the road to the cross he signals that death is not the last word. In doing so, Jesus as the resurrection and the life, not only declares that death will no long hold its horrific power over us, but that the life he promises is available to us right now, even in the midst of death.

Death is no laughing matter, and I trust that Jesus was weeping yet again this week during yet another school shooting, this time in Florida. But, we wonder, where is the life Jesus’ promises to us right now? Honestly, I don’t know, because in the midst of the anger and frustration and even despair that I know many of you share with me, it’s hard to see a way forward. Another Churchill quote comes to mind: “Americans will always do the right thing, but not until they’ve tried everything else first.” I don’t know if we’ve tried everything else yet, but it’s time to do the right thing because everything else we’ve tried hasn’t worked.

The story of Jesus and Mary and Martha and Lazarus and Thomas shows us again the Jesus is in the midst of the horror of our daily lives, promising life in the midst of death. That life is available to us both now and in the future. The story also shows that Jesus calls us to participate with him in creating that new life in our world. That’s really the story of Madelyn’s baptism, and ours as well, that the dying and rising free us to live a new life even in the midst of the worst life—and death—throw at us. Resurrection is now. Amen.

"Mindfulness: Sabbath Anytime, Anywhere" - Sermon for Ash Wednesday

Mindfulness: Sabbath Anytime, Anywhere
Ash Wednesday and Midweek Lent
February 14, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 10.1-18; Psalm 46

“…the sheep hear his voice.” (John 10.3b)

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46.10)

Wouldn’t be wonderful to take a Sabbath break whenever you want, not having to wait until Sunday, or Saturday or Wednesday or whatever day you set aside? Wouldn’t it be great to make time for our relationship with God, especially when we feel pressed for time, because both time and our relationship to God are so important? Wouldn’t it be awesome—literally—to experience holy, Sabbath moments amidst the good moments of our lives? And wouldn’t it be amazing to think of this Sabbath as a “time-in” rather than a “time-out?” Not to sound like an “as seen on TV” ad, but this kind of Sabbath is already available to you.

About three or four years ago I was introduced to mindfulness meditation and it has had a profound impact upon my life. Because of my hectic schedule and my inability to stop, mindfulness was something I know I needed and wanted to pursue. So when my sabbatical came along a few years later, I decided I needed to go deeper. So, I read books, attended a week-long silent retreat, kept a journal, and entered spiritual direction.

Now, I need to make a disclaimer: I’m not an expert in mindfulness meditation; I’m a pilgrim on the way like just like all of you. Besides, longtime practitioners of mindfulness will tell you that they are simply doing the equivalent of someone selling water to thirsty travelers down by the river.

So, what is mindfulness meditation and how can it help you find Sabbath in your daily life? First, although mindfulness is practiced by a number of Eastern religions, it’s also very Christian. Christians have been engaging in contemplative practices for millennia and the Jewish people before that. It’s in our tradition. Second, although there are thousands of ways you can practice mindfulness meditation, it is quite uncomplicated (though it’s not easy. As Jon Kabat-Zinn notes, mindfulness is simply “awareness, cultivated by paying attention in specific and particular ways, on purpose, in the present moment, non-judgmentally.”

That’s a lot of words, which makes it seem more complicated than it is, so let me unpack that a bit. Through the simple practice of being aware of your breathing and paying attention to yourself and your surroundings, in the present moment, you open yourself up to whatever God is bringing you. It can be closing your eyes, focusing on your breath, for one or two or twenty or sixty minutes. You can do it standing, sitting, laying down or walking around. You can simply observe the world around you or let a particular phrase roll around in your mind. The idea is to be as present to that moment as fully as possible and when your mind wanders, gently bring it back to your breath.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, a time of reflection leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. The ashes signify number of things: they are a reminder of our mortality; they are a sign of mourning and repentance; and they suggest cleansing (lye soap is made from ashes). During this period of reflection, we are being invited to listen to the Good Shepherd’s voice, and to “be still and know that I am God” in the words of the Psalmist. I think that the daily Sabbath of mindfulness may help open up our hearts to hear Jesus’ voice. So, my brothers and sisters in Christ, I invite you to find a way to pause in your life and experience life in the present moment, because the present moment is the only one you have. Amen.

"O, Say, Can You See?" - Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

O, Say, Can You See?
Transfiguration – Narrative Lectionary 4
February 11, 2018
Redeemer, Good Thunder, MN
John 9.1-41

For most of my life, being able to see has been important to me. I have had glasses or other types of corrective lenses since I was a young boy. Soon after getting my glasses, I remember reading a book about a young Teddy Roosevelt who was not able to see the large letters on a barn while he was out hunting and I could relate to that experience since I had trouble seeing the blackboard in school. Later on, when I was a young adult, I wore my contact lenses (the old hard ones) too long after a period of not wearing them. When I took them out I scratched both corneas, a very painful experience which landed me in the emergency room.

Then as I neared 40 I was pretty sure that I was going to need bifocals, and I did. At 50 I was pretty sure I’d need trifocals, and I did. Then, let’s just say later, the eye doctor has told me I have the beginnings of cataracts. I love to read and these past few years I’ve come to realize that I am a visual learner and of all my senses, I would miss sight the most.

Being able to see is at the heart of our reading and, as John’s Jesus so often does, the story operates on multiple levels: the physical level of the man born blind who is healed, the intellectual level of the Jews; and for everyone in the story, the spiritual level most of all. John doesn’t have a Transfiguration story like the other three Gospels where Jesus is transformed on a mountain, yet this is a transfiguration story of another sort. Jesus’ glory is manifested in the sign he performs through the healing of the man born blind, and as Jesus does so, people see him anew.

Through various characters and their interactions with each other, we are encouraged to consider where and how we might be spiritually myopic and in need of some corrective lenses. This is not easy because we tend to cling tenaciously to our dearly held beliefs, no matter what evidence to the contrary. In CS Lewis’ book, The Last Battle, part of the Chronicles of Narnia series, there is a final battle between the good guys and the bad, with the dwarves sitting on the sidelines alternately switching sides because, as they say, “the dwarves are for the dwarves.” Eventually, the bad guys prevail and the good guys are tossed into a smelly, dirty hut, including the dwarves. Inside the hut, they are surprised to see that that are in another beautiful country, that the “inside is bigger than the outside, as Lewis says. However, the self-centered still think they are in hut and no amount of talk or proof convinces them otherwise.

We all know someone like that, whose mind will not be changed no matter the evidence. If we’re really honest, we realize we all have these tendencies and fail to see new God things that come our way. Rob Bell calls this “brick theology,” that we build a wall of belief and are afraid that if one of our cherished bricks is removed, the whole wall tumbles down. Instead, Bell says, faith is meant to be like springs on a trampoline. The faith springs of our trampoline life allow us flexibility and the joy of dynamic faith – to see things we might not be able to otherwise.

The transition from the safety of a wall with “brick faith” to a “brisk faith,” from spiritual myopia to clearer vision, is not an easy one but it is rewarding. Children have opened my eyes that when we say all are welcome to Holy Communion we must include them. My eyes have been opened that all people, including LGBT are just as faithful Jesus followers as I am, maybe more so, and that they are simple trying to live authentic lives of faith. What about you? Whom has God brought before you to help you see Jesus in a new way? May God continue to open the eyes of our hearts so that we can help each other follow Jesus. Amen.