Fake News?
Reformation Sunday
October 27, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 8.31-36
“…you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.”
A legend has it that five blind men approach an elephant and attempt to describe it. The first blind man, holding the trunk, says an elephant is like a hose. The second, grabbing an ear, says it’s a fan. The third blind man, wrapping his arms around a leg, says it is like a tree. The fourth touching the massive side, swears the elephant is like a wall. Whereas the fifth blind man, grabbing the tail, insists the elephant is like a snake. Each from his own perspective is absolutely sure he knows what an elephant is like.
We know all too well how truth can be a matter of perspective, but in our day and age it seems even more discouraging. It is said that we live in a post-truth society, where objective facts matter less than appealing to emotions or personal beliefs, that we don’t have a shared standard separating fact from opinion.
The situation seems more dire: not only can we not agree on what is true, there are people out there generating “fake news” to further their agenda. Just last Thursday it was revealed that a state senator in North Dakota knowingly circulated a false picture and story to attack a political opponent. His “apology” did not lessen his vitriol as he continued to attack his opponent. Furthermore, it has become commonplace to brand truth that you don’t like as fake news rather than arguing your position on its own merits. In such a climate, the Rotarians’ Four-Way Test seems a quaint relic: “Of the things we think, say and do: Is it the truth; is it fair to all concerned; will it build goodwill and better friendships; will it be beneficial to all concerned?”
Lest you think this a modern phenomenon, Jesus seeks to speak a word of truth to the crowds that have been following him. He says, “... you will know the truth and the truth will make you free,” a surprising word to them. You see, they come from a long line of “truth-spinners” going all the way back to Adam, who in one fell swoop pinned all the blame for his disobedience on both God and Eve. “This woman that you gave me” caused me to sin. The crowds erroneously claim they have never been slaves, yet who can forget the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians and now the Romans? Then Jesus tells a curious parable as only John’s Jesus can do about slaves and sons in households. Even so, the moral of the tale seems evident: freedom is found in relationship with Jesus as God’s incarnate truth.
It’s hard to believe, but some people don’t believe that Jesus ever existed, let alone represents truth. So, what does it mean in our post-truth, fake news culture for Jesus to claim to bring and be truth? First, we need to acknowledge there are different ways of knowing and that knowing Jesus is a relational term, much like we know those whom we are closest to. I know a lot about my wife; I can rattle off statistics and information, but that only scratches the surface of who she is as a person. It is my 40+ years of being in relationship that I begin to know her. It is similar with knowing Jesus. The word for continuing in Jesus means to rest, abide or remain; in modern speech, it means to hang together. We know Jesus when are with him.
Second, knowing Jesus as truth means that our lives are conformed to his and the truth he proclaims. Part of our transformation means rejecting the lie that we aren’t enough and have to be more, that lie that can do it all ourselves and have it all. Living Jesus’ truth means accepting the fact that we are accepted by God unconditionally and that each of us are worthy of love and belonging. Another part of living Jesus’ truth is allowing that love and acceptance to flow through us to others. And one more part means knowing we are forgiven when we fall short of living the truth.
Today is Reformation Sunday, a time when we remember, among other things, that God continues to move in, with and through the church in all its imperfections and shortcomings. We give thanks for such truth-abiders as Martin Luther, John Calvin, Ulrich Zwingli, et al. It’s a time to proclaim, as one of my colleagues has said, that we have the truth in the Lutheran Church, but we don’t have all of it. Sometimes we might feel like those five blind men grasping at the elephant but we do know that Jesus is not fake news but rather good news. Jesus is the good news of God’s desire to love and bless the world, in us and through us. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Sunday, October 13, 2019
"From Duty to Delight" - Sermon for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
From Duty to Delight
Pentecost 18 – Lectionary 28
October 13, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 17.11-19
In last week’s Gospel reading, Jesus’s followers asked for more faith, something we agreed was a reasonable request given Jesus’ demands on us. Jesus answered with two parables, one about a mustard seed and another about doing one’s duty as servants. We hypothesized that Jesus was trying to help them imagine that they already had enough faith and that the issue was not about having more. In fact, we wondered if Jesus was telling them that they already had what they needed to live the kingdom life and that their believing would grow by doing what is expected as a follower of him. Though I didn’t use the term last week, as a Christian there’s a sense of duty we have that comes as a response to what God has already done for us.
However, I ended the sermon by saying that there is also room for joy and praise in the Christian life, but that we’d leave that for today. Here we have these in the story of Jesus’ healing of the 10 lepers. Before we explore joy and gratitude in the Christian life, It’s helpful to remember that lepers in Jesus’ time suffered any number of skin diseases, not all of which we’d classify as Hansen’s Disease. They could have had eczema, psoriasis or even mold or mildew. Regardless of the particulars, they were outcast from society and forced to live on the fringes of their communities. Ironically, they were also reliant on that same community to help them survive, usually through begging.
It’s also helpful to remember that the Samaritans and the Jews of Jesus’ time were mortal enemies. Jews considered Samaritans to be “half-breeds,”-pardon the term-not really Jewish. Even so, both groups looked down on the other as false worshipers of the One True God. So, for Jesus to be around a leper would make him ritually unclean and unable to worship in the temple. To be with a Samaritan would make him doubly so. To make matters worse, consorting with both would be considered scandalous.
When the 10 lepers cry out for mercy, they may have just been begging for money; we don’t know what they were asking. Yet, Jesus gives them more. He tells them to go show themselves to the priests, which was a necessary requirement for reintegration into society, including worshiping in the temple . Dutifully, they do exactly what Jesus orders them to do and are healed on their way, no doubt anxious to get back to their normal lives. Yet, suddenly one of them turns around and comes back to Jesus, loudly praising God in the process. Why does he do so? I think it’s because he sees God’s healing presence in the midst of the awfulness of his life. In doing so, the Samaritan leper moves from duty to delight in his relationship with Jesus.
There is much about the Christian life that involves duty: we love others because God first loved us. We forgive others because we have been forgiven. We pray because God tells us to ask him for what we need. We give of ourselves, our energy and our money because we are committed to being a member of a particular community of faith. But we also experience deep joy and delight in these things when we see God working in, with, and through us. Even when our personal and communal lives don’t go as we plan, we look for those places where God meets us in the messiness of life and see how God works in ways that astonish and surprise us.
One of the reasons we gather together is to help each other see God’s working and share the delight we experience. You see, as important as it was to the lepers to return home to their family, friends and livelihood it was just as important to the community who were anxious to welcome them back. As the poet John Donne as noted, no one is an island; what happens to one of us affects us all. That’s one of the many reasons why what we do here—what God does here—is so important. This week I invite you to find where God is working and delight in his presence. Amen.
Pentecost 18 – Lectionary 28
October 13, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 17.11-19
In last week’s Gospel reading, Jesus’s followers asked for more faith, something we agreed was a reasonable request given Jesus’ demands on us. Jesus answered with two parables, one about a mustard seed and another about doing one’s duty as servants. We hypothesized that Jesus was trying to help them imagine that they already had enough faith and that the issue was not about having more. In fact, we wondered if Jesus was telling them that they already had what they needed to live the kingdom life and that their believing would grow by doing what is expected as a follower of him. Though I didn’t use the term last week, as a Christian there’s a sense of duty we have that comes as a response to what God has already done for us.
However, I ended the sermon by saying that there is also room for joy and praise in the Christian life, but that we’d leave that for today. Here we have these in the story of Jesus’ healing of the 10 lepers. Before we explore joy and gratitude in the Christian life, It’s helpful to remember that lepers in Jesus’ time suffered any number of skin diseases, not all of which we’d classify as Hansen’s Disease. They could have had eczema, psoriasis or even mold or mildew. Regardless of the particulars, they were outcast from society and forced to live on the fringes of their communities. Ironically, they were also reliant on that same community to help them survive, usually through begging.
It’s also helpful to remember that the Samaritans and the Jews of Jesus’ time were mortal enemies. Jews considered Samaritans to be “half-breeds,”-pardon the term-not really Jewish. Even so, both groups looked down on the other as false worshipers of the One True God. So, for Jesus to be around a leper would make him ritually unclean and unable to worship in the temple. To be with a Samaritan would make him doubly so. To make matters worse, consorting with both would be considered scandalous.
When the 10 lepers cry out for mercy, they may have just been begging for money; we don’t know what they were asking. Yet, Jesus gives them more. He tells them to go show themselves to the priests, which was a necessary requirement for reintegration into society, including worshiping in the temple . Dutifully, they do exactly what Jesus orders them to do and are healed on their way, no doubt anxious to get back to their normal lives. Yet, suddenly one of them turns around and comes back to Jesus, loudly praising God in the process. Why does he do so? I think it’s because he sees God’s healing presence in the midst of the awfulness of his life. In doing so, the Samaritan leper moves from duty to delight in his relationship with Jesus.
There is much about the Christian life that involves duty: we love others because God first loved us. We forgive others because we have been forgiven. We pray because God tells us to ask him for what we need. We give of ourselves, our energy and our money because we are committed to being a member of a particular community of faith. But we also experience deep joy and delight in these things when we see God working in, with, and through us. Even when our personal and communal lives don’t go as we plan, we look for those places where God meets us in the messiness of life and see how God works in ways that astonish and surprise us.
One of the reasons we gather together is to help each other see God’s working and share the delight we experience. You see, as important as it was to the lepers to return home to their family, friends and livelihood it was just as important to the community who were anxious to welcome them back. As the poet John Donne as noted, no one is an island; what happens to one of us affects us all. That’s one of the many reasons why what we do here—what God does here—is so important. This week I invite you to find where God is working and delight in his presence. Amen.
Sunday, October 6, 2019
"Doing is Believing" - Sermon for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
Doing is Believing
Pentecost 17 – Lectionary 27
October 6, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 17.5-10
This past Wednesday night one of the Confirmation students asked me about my favorite sport to watch. I responded, “golf,” mostly because I try to learn something about the sport I play regularly. I also told him that I follow the Twins and Vikings though they have crushed my heart in the past. But I think that another reason I said I liked to watch golf is that, although I love to watch many sports, I don’t like to see “showboating” or excessive celebration. In golf the most you see will be a hand clutch. Maybe it’s my stoic Scandinavian nature, but I think it’s because I don’t think you should make such a big deal out of something you get paid to do. One should act like, “I do this all the time; it’s no biggie.” Yet, our culture is so much into rewards and “look at me,” as evidenced by this Kwik Trip Rewards card in my wallet. It’s not the only one I have.
In our Gospel reading today from Luke, Jesus’ closest followers ask for something that sounds reasonable: more faith. Who wouldn’t want more faith, especially in light of the cautions and demands he has laid upon them a few verses earlier. Jesus has just warned them about stumbling along the Christian life, to rebuke those who do, and to forgive those who repent. That sounds like an overwhelming demand on the lives of those who follow Jesus and so they ask for faith. Who can blame them? Jesus’ response is curious, if not off the wall: he looks around, spies a mulberry tree and tells them the tiniest amount of faith could do wonders beyond imagination. He then tells a parable about servants who should not make a big deal of doing what they are supposed to do.
When approaching a text like this, especially with parables, we want to ask some questions. For example, why did Jesus give this teaching to his followers and why did Luke think it important enough to include in his Gospel? After all, we don’t have everything that Jesus said and did, so why this? And Luke had to make choices about what he collected, so why did he included these sayings. Furthermore, as we explore these questions with Jesus’ parables, we also want to remember that Jesus’ parables are not puzzles to be solved but mysteries to be entered; they are designed to open us up more than be opened. So, here’s one hypothesis: I think Jesus tells them (and us) that asking for more faith is not the right request in response to his call on their lives. Rather, he invites them to imagine a Christian life in a more ordinary, yet more life-giving kind of way.
We moderns tend to think of faith as those things we believe to be true about God, Jesus, etc. Now, the things we believe are an important part of faith, but they are a smaller part than some people want to admit. The biblical story in general and Luke in particular are more concerned about faith as trust, a trust that gets expressed in how we live our lives and then grows through exercise. In other words, “Doing is believing.” Faith is more about a relationship with Jesus than it is about a list of propositions we have to subscribe to. Faith as trust in God grows as it is exercised, in response to what God has already done in us.
Jesus tells his followers that he has already given them what they need to live the life of faith. He tells them that faith doesn’t have to be heroic. Most often faith is just doing what needs to be done, what is right in front of you, what may seem ordinary and even mundane, without thought of a reward. As Lutheran followers of Jesus, we are reminded that we don’t do these things to earn our salvation or to get rewards (we don’t swipe our cards). Jesus has taken care of that already. Because Jesus has healed the breach between us and God, we can grow into that relationship right now.
These past few days I’ve been learning some of the ways the people of Grace “believe by doing.” I’ve heard how the quilters send tangible expressions of love to high school seniors and the needy. I’ve heard about Pine Ridge, mission trips and the food shelf ministry. I’m sure there are many more I’ll be hearing about in the time ahead. Through our baptisms, God has called us all to lives of meaning and purpose. With the gift of the Holy Spirit, God gives us what we need to live out our baptisms in our work, play, school and families. And if that isn’t enough, God gives us his very self, body and blood, in Holy Communion to remind us and strengthen us.
So, does this mean that there is no place for joy or gratitude or thanksgiving in the life of faith? Of course, there is, but that’s the sermon for next week, so you’ll just have to come back. Meanwhile, look for the ways that God is doing God’s work in the world in, with and through you, however ordinary they may seem to be. We are an ordinary people but with an extraordinary God. Amen.
Pentecost 17 – Lectionary 27
October 6, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 17.5-10
This past Wednesday night one of the Confirmation students asked me about my favorite sport to watch. I responded, “golf,” mostly because I try to learn something about the sport I play regularly. I also told him that I follow the Twins and Vikings though they have crushed my heart in the past. But I think that another reason I said I liked to watch golf is that, although I love to watch many sports, I don’t like to see “showboating” or excessive celebration. In golf the most you see will be a hand clutch. Maybe it’s my stoic Scandinavian nature, but I think it’s because I don’t think you should make such a big deal out of something you get paid to do. One should act like, “I do this all the time; it’s no biggie.” Yet, our culture is so much into rewards and “look at me,” as evidenced by this Kwik Trip Rewards card in my wallet. It’s not the only one I have.
In our Gospel reading today from Luke, Jesus’ closest followers ask for something that sounds reasonable: more faith. Who wouldn’t want more faith, especially in light of the cautions and demands he has laid upon them a few verses earlier. Jesus has just warned them about stumbling along the Christian life, to rebuke those who do, and to forgive those who repent. That sounds like an overwhelming demand on the lives of those who follow Jesus and so they ask for faith. Who can blame them? Jesus’ response is curious, if not off the wall: he looks around, spies a mulberry tree and tells them the tiniest amount of faith could do wonders beyond imagination. He then tells a parable about servants who should not make a big deal of doing what they are supposed to do.
When approaching a text like this, especially with parables, we want to ask some questions. For example, why did Jesus give this teaching to his followers and why did Luke think it important enough to include in his Gospel? After all, we don’t have everything that Jesus said and did, so why this? And Luke had to make choices about what he collected, so why did he included these sayings. Furthermore, as we explore these questions with Jesus’ parables, we also want to remember that Jesus’ parables are not puzzles to be solved but mysteries to be entered; they are designed to open us up more than be opened. So, here’s one hypothesis: I think Jesus tells them (and us) that asking for more faith is not the right request in response to his call on their lives. Rather, he invites them to imagine a Christian life in a more ordinary, yet more life-giving kind of way.
We moderns tend to think of faith as those things we believe to be true about God, Jesus, etc. Now, the things we believe are an important part of faith, but they are a smaller part than some people want to admit. The biblical story in general and Luke in particular are more concerned about faith as trust, a trust that gets expressed in how we live our lives and then grows through exercise. In other words, “Doing is believing.” Faith is more about a relationship with Jesus than it is about a list of propositions we have to subscribe to. Faith as trust in God grows as it is exercised, in response to what God has already done in us.
Jesus tells his followers that he has already given them what they need to live the life of faith. He tells them that faith doesn’t have to be heroic. Most often faith is just doing what needs to be done, what is right in front of you, what may seem ordinary and even mundane, without thought of a reward. As Lutheran followers of Jesus, we are reminded that we don’t do these things to earn our salvation or to get rewards (we don’t swipe our cards). Jesus has taken care of that already. Because Jesus has healed the breach between us and God, we can grow into that relationship right now.
These past few days I’ve been learning some of the ways the people of Grace “believe by doing.” I’ve heard how the quilters send tangible expressions of love to high school seniors and the needy. I’ve heard about Pine Ridge, mission trips and the food shelf ministry. I’m sure there are many more I’ll be hearing about in the time ahead. Through our baptisms, God has called us all to lives of meaning and purpose. With the gift of the Holy Spirit, God gives us what we need to live out our baptisms in our work, play, school and families. And if that isn’t enough, God gives us his very self, body and blood, in Holy Communion to remind us and strengthen us.
So, does this mean that there is no place for joy or gratitude or thanksgiving in the life of faith? Of course, there is, but that’s the sermon for next week, so you’ll just have to come back. Meanwhile, look for the ways that God is doing God’s work in the world in, with and through you, however ordinary they may seem to be. We are an ordinary people but with an extraordinary God. Amen.
Monday, September 16, 2019
"Cross My Heart" - Sermon for the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Cross My Heart
Pentecost 14 – Narrative Lectionary 2
September 15, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 18.1-15; 21.1-7
Last week, we heard the second creation story of the first human man and woman, how relationships between them, God and the entire world are at the heart of creation. We anticipated their act of disobedience that led to their expulsion from the Garden, how those relationships would be broken. Since then, they have populated the earth, but the brokenness was so severe God caused a flood. Noah, his family, and representatives of all animals are spared in an effort to reboot creation and start over. God realizes this is not going to work as hoped so he sets a rainbow as a sign of his promise never to do it again. Instead, God goes “Plan C,” identifying another couple through whom God will work on restoring creation to him.
What a couple it is, two “seasoned citizens” who are promised descendents as numerous as the sand on a beach or stars in the sky, but who are well past their ability to produce children. Understandably, Abraham and Sarah, as thrilled as they are, cannot see how it can be possible. It will take 10 years for them to see the beginning of God’s promise, with many missteps and misconceptions along the way. Finally, three heavenly visitors arrive with another promise, to which Sarah can only laugh. Yet, Sarah’s laughter of absurdity and pain turns to joyous laughter at the birth of Isaac, which means “Laughter.”
“The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised.” As I thought about God’s promises to Abraham and Sarah and promises in general, it occurred to me that most promises are not fulfilled immediately or all at once. Indeed, they unfold over time and often unexpectedly. Last Wednesday, little Mackenzie gave me a pine cone from a tree in her yard. The pine cone, like all seeds, is a promise that unfolds over time and in unexpected ways. When Cindy and I married almost 39 years ago, we made promises that unfold, also unexpectedly. Abraham and Sarah will never see those numerous descendents that God promises to them, a promise that still unfolds today.
The promise to Abraham and Sarah was that all peoples of the earth would be drawn to God through their descendents, the chosen people. As we will see this story unfold in the weeks and months ahead, God will eventually do this through Jesus. God promised the Israelites a Messiah, an anointed one who will bring this promise to completion. Yet even here, God’s promise continues to unfold unexpectedly as Jesus restores us through his life, death and resurrection. In Jesus Christ, God has said, like countless children, “Cross my heart and hope to die.” Whatever God’s promises to us, every one of them all say that we have a future of hopefulness, not resignation.
Last Sunday, God made a promise that Kinzey Jane would belong to God forever, and you, her parents and sponsors made promises the nurture her in the faith, promises that will unfold in her lifetime. Thursday, Genny’s family clung to the promise that death is not the last word and the God will bring all things to completion, that we would see each other again, promises that continue to unfold. Yesterday, Alexa and Alan made promises in God’s sight, promises that will continue to work their way out in their lives together. In a few minutes, we will taste God’s promised presence with forgiveness and new life in Holy Communion.
Over nine years ago, you and I promised to walk together in God’s mission and ministry. It was a promise that unfolded, often in unexpected ways, but always because of God’s faithfulness to us. You have now called Pastor Odegard to walk with you and I expect the same thing will happen, only differently. In the building renovations, you have responded to God’s call like your ancestors before you to stand as witness to a God who continues to move in our world to restore all things to God’s self. So I encourage you to trust in that promise, look for where it unfolds unexpectedly, and laugh with joy when it happens. Amen.
Pentecost 14 – Narrative Lectionary 2
September 15, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 18.1-15; 21.1-7
Last week, we heard the second creation story of the first human man and woman, how relationships between them, God and the entire world are at the heart of creation. We anticipated their act of disobedience that led to their expulsion from the Garden, how those relationships would be broken. Since then, they have populated the earth, but the brokenness was so severe God caused a flood. Noah, his family, and representatives of all animals are spared in an effort to reboot creation and start over. God realizes this is not going to work as hoped so he sets a rainbow as a sign of his promise never to do it again. Instead, God goes “Plan C,” identifying another couple through whom God will work on restoring creation to him.
What a couple it is, two “seasoned citizens” who are promised descendents as numerous as the sand on a beach or stars in the sky, but who are well past their ability to produce children. Understandably, Abraham and Sarah, as thrilled as they are, cannot see how it can be possible. It will take 10 years for them to see the beginning of God’s promise, with many missteps and misconceptions along the way. Finally, three heavenly visitors arrive with another promise, to which Sarah can only laugh. Yet, Sarah’s laughter of absurdity and pain turns to joyous laughter at the birth of Isaac, which means “Laughter.”
“The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised.” As I thought about God’s promises to Abraham and Sarah and promises in general, it occurred to me that most promises are not fulfilled immediately or all at once. Indeed, they unfold over time and often unexpectedly. Last Wednesday, little Mackenzie gave me a pine cone from a tree in her yard. The pine cone, like all seeds, is a promise that unfolds over time and in unexpected ways. When Cindy and I married almost 39 years ago, we made promises that unfold, also unexpectedly. Abraham and Sarah will never see those numerous descendents that God promises to them, a promise that still unfolds today.
The promise to Abraham and Sarah was that all peoples of the earth would be drawn to God through their descendents, the chosen people. As we will see this story unfold in the weeks and months ahead, God will eventually do this through Jesus. God promised the Israelites a Messiah, an anointed one who will bring this promise to completion. Yet even here, God’s promise continues to unfold unexpectedly as Jesus restores us through his life, death and resurrection. In Jesus Christ, God has said, like countless children, “Cross my heart and hope to die.” Whatever God’s promises to us, every one of them all say that we have a future of hopefulness, not resignation.
Last Sunday, God made a promise that Kinzey Jane would belong to God forever, and you, her parents and sponsors made promises the nurture her in the faith, promises that will unfold in her lifetime. Thursday, Genny’s family clung to the promise that death is not the last word and the God will bring all things to completion, that we would see each other again, promises that continue to unfold. Yesterday, Alexa and Alan made promises in God’s sight, promises that will continue to work their way out in their lives together. In a few minutes, we will taste God’s promised presence with forgiveness and new life in Holy Communion.
Over nine years ago, you and I promised to walk together in God’s mission and ministry. It was a promise that unfolded, often in unexpected ways, but always because of God’s faithfulness to us. You have now called Pastor Odegard to walk with you and I expect the same thing will happen, only differently. In the building renovations, you have responded to God’s call like your ancestors before you to stand as witness to a God who continues to move in our world to restore all things to God’s self. So I encourage you to trust in that promise, look for where it unfolds unexpectedly, and laugh with joy when it happens. Amen.
Sunday, September 8, 2019
"We’re Not Alone" - Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
We’re Not Alone
Pentecost 13 – Narrative Lectionary 3
September 8, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 2.4b-25
A number of years ago, while I was in seminary, Jan was in a bad car accident. She was not wearing a seatbelt and was ejected from her car. Because my family had grown close to Jan, her husband Ned called me to be with them at the Baltimore trauma center where she was on life support. It was my first experience walking with a family through dying and death and it was someone I knew. Jan was taken off life support and died quickly. In her late mid-40s, her death devastated many people, especially her Ned.
Not long after the funeral, I was a bit shocked when Ned rather off-handedly said to me, “I’ll get remarried. I’m not meant to be alone.” Now, Ned meant no disrespect to Jan or her memory; if anything, it was just the opposite. He wanted to have again what he had with Jan. That day I learned a lot about how men and women cope with loss, but also about the strength of relationships.
“It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner” God says. Today we begin anew our yearly trip through the Bible, beginning with the Old Testament and the creation story in Genesis. We’ll read the Bible as it is meant to be read, as the story of God, God’s world, and God’s people. At Christmas, we’ll pick up the Jesus story and follow it through the Gospel of Mark through Jesus’ life, passion, death and resurrection at Easter. Then after Easter, we’ll read about the story of the early church in Acts, 1 Thessalonians and 1 Corinthians. It’s something of a mad dash, but through it all we’ll get the sense of God’s unwavering commitment to us and our world.
“It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” This verse and the seven following are among four passages I read with couples preparing for their wedding. In reading this passage, we discover that from the very beginning God put men and women in relationship on equal terms. Although you can’t see it in English, we know this because the word for “helper” is most often used in the Old Testament to refer to God. Clearly God, as our helper, is not subservient to us. It is only after the act of disobedience in the Garden of Eden that relationships are perverted. But here we see God’s original intent for humanity, that it live in cooperative partnerships with one another.
Before I explore that idea, a few caveats are in order. First, Ned’s experience aside, it would be misguided to assume that men and women are incomplete, that we need someone else to make us whole. It is true that couples bring different gifts into marriage. As I often observe, if Cindy and I were alike one of us would be unnecessary. Even so, each and every one of us are complete human beings. Similarly, it would be wrong to say that this text is just about marriage and that we should all be married. The “aha” moment that the man experiences when presented with the woman is the same beautiful moment that happens when God brings people together around God’s creative purposes. We are “bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh” of one another.
At the heart of the story is that God is intimately involved with creation, especially humanity. For God, creation is not a “one and done” affair. God’s creative activity continues. Not only does God continue creating, God does so cooperatively with humanity. We are, as Phil Hefner states, created co-creators. Even when humanity breaks the covenantal bond with God, God continues to hang in there with humanity. As we’ll see as the biblical story unfolds, humanity gets it wrong more than it gets it right. But the biblical story also demonstrates God’s faithfulness in the midst of our faithlessness.
God cares so deeply about and is so intimately involved with creation that God is “all in.” Just as God has built community, cooperation and collaboration into creation, in the person of Jesus Christ, Immanuel, “God with Us,” God wants us to know that we are never, ever alone. In Jesus’ death and resurrection, God heals the brokenness of the world and works to restore relationships to what God originally intended. In whatever kind of relationships you find yourself today, know that God is present and working there. For God is our helper and partner. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Pentecost 13 – Narrative Lectionary 3
September 8, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 2.4b-25
A number of years ago, while I was in seminary, Jan was in a bad car accident. She was not wearing a seatbelt and was ejected from her car. Because my family had grown close to Jan, her husband Ned called me to be with them at the Baltimore trauma center where she was on life support. It was my first experience walking with a family through dying and death and it was someone I knew. Jan was taken off life support and died quickly. In her late mid-40s, her death devastated many people, especially her Ned.
Not long after the funeral, I was a bit shocked when Ned rather off-handedly said to me, “I’ll get remarried. I’m not meant to be alone.” Now, Ned meant no disrespect to Jan or her memory; if anything, it was just the opposite. He wanted to have again what he had with Jan. That day I learned a lot about how men and women cope with loss, but also about the strength of relationships.
“It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner” God says. Today we begin anew our yearly trip through the Bible, beginning with the Old Testament and the creation story in Genesis. We’ll read the Bible as it is meant to be read, as the story of God, God’s world, and God’s people. At Christmas, we’ll pick up the Jesus story and follow it through the Gospel of Mark through Jesus’ life, passion, death and resurrection at Easter. Then after Easter, we’ll read about the story of the early church in Acts, 1 Thessalonians and 1 Corinthians. It’s something of a mad dash, but through it all we’ll get the sense of God’s unwavering commitment to us and our world.
“It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” This verse and the seven following are among four passages I read with couples preparing for their wedding. In reading this passage, we discover that from the very beginning God put men and women in relationship on equal terms. Although you can’t see it in English, we know this because the word for “helper” is most often used in the Old Testament to refer to God. Clearly God, as our helper, is not subservient to us. It is only after the act of disobedience in the Garden of Eden that relationships are perverted. But here we see God’s original intent for humanity, that it live in cooperative partnerships with one another.
Before I explore that idea, a few caveats are in order. First, Ned’s experience aside, it would be misguided to assume that men and women are incomplete, that we need someone else to make us whole. It is true that couples bring different gifts into marriage. As I often observe, if Cindy and I were alike one of us would be unnecessary. Even so, each and every one of us are complete human beings. Similarly, it would be wrong to say that this text is just about marriage and that we should all be married. The “aha” moment that the man experiences when presented with the woman is the same beautiful moment that happens when God brings people together around God’s creative purposes. We are “bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh” of one another.
At the heart of the story is that God is intimately involved with creation, especially humanity. For God, creation is not a “one and done” affair. God’s creative activity continues. Not only does God continue creating, God does so cooperatively with humanity. We are, as Phil Hefner states, created co-creators. Even when humanity breaks the covenantal bond with God, God continues to hang in there with humanity. As we’ll see as the biblical story unfolds, humanity gets it wrong more than it gets it right. But the biblical story also demonstrates God’s faithfulness in the midst of our faithlessness.
God cares so deeply about and is so intimately involved with creation that God is “all in.” Just as God has built community, cooperation and collaboration into creation, in the person of Jesus Christ, Immanuel, “God with Us,” God wants us to know that we are never, ever alone. In Jesus’ death and resurrection, God heals the brokenness of the world and works to restore relationships to what God originally intended. In whatever kind of relationships you find yourself today, know that God is present and working there. For God is our helper and partner. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Sunday, August 4, 2019
"Deceptive Unity" - Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost
Deceptive Unity
Pentecost 8 – Summer Series: “Brushes with God”
August 4, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 11.1-9
One day, during a gym class at East Jr. Hi in Richfield, the teacher set up a short race, 100 yards, I think. He wanted to see who the fastest runners were and picked those he thought would have a chance to win. I begged to have a chance to compete. I thought if I ran and worked hard I could win the race or if not, make a good showing. Grudgingly, he agreed to let me try and you know what happened: I got smoked, didn’t even come close to the others. You see, thinking you can do something, trying hard doesn’t always translate into winning. I learned a valuable, if not painful lesson that day about being a “legend in my own mind.”
The inhabitants of Shinar, what was known as Babylon, were legend-makers in process, or so they thought. On a basic level, the Babel story is an origin story. It tells how the variety of languages developed in the ancient world. But the story is more complicated than that. You would think that being unified, working together for a common cause would be something to be applauded. The problem is that they were unified by the wrong thing, something counter to God’s mission for them. They decided who they were going to be and what they’d be doing without a thought towards God.
Today we look at the Babel story through the eyes of 16th century Dutch painter Pieter Bruegel, the Elder. There are actually two paintings of the Tower each slightly different. This one hangs in Vienna and the other, smaller one hangs in Rotterdam. Now, it’s helpful to know that Bruegel painted in the heat of the Protestant Reformation and its resistance to the authority and abuses of the Roman Catholic Church. During this time many referred to Rome (the Papacy) as Babylon and it is no coincidence that Bruegel’s Tower of Babel looks like a Roman Coliseum.
Bruegel, like many of his day, painted ancient stories in contemporary images. Thus there ships in the harbor, a landscape that looks European, and nobility and workers clothed in typical garb of the day. We don’t know who the nobleman is, but the tower itself is telling: it is crumbling even as it is being built. Rome, called the Eternal City, was collapsing, a sign of the futility of prideful human effort. For Bruegel, the painting symbolized the struggle between a church worshiping in Latin and Protestants from many languages and cultures.
The warning in both the Babel story and painting is this: unity for the wrong reason is dangerous and even possibly evil. We ask ourselves, “Why is it that people most often get unified when they are unified against other people?” The Babel story tells us that a better shot at unity comes when we ask who we are as God’s people and what God intends for us. We always need to ask what God is calling us to be and do, something our Transition Task Force and the church council has been doing the last year. Furthermore, we’ve been careful to make sure our own building project is mission based, not human based, and I think we will succeed.
Like many of you, I’m concerned about the destructive unity in our country and world with groups attacking one another. A week ago, Bill Anderson brought me a copy of an article by Jim Wallis that appeared in Sojourner’s online magazine (https://sojo.net/articles/who-will-call-out-presidents-racism). He and the other members of his Friday morning discussion group agreed to bring this article to their pastors and implore them to call out racism, especially that of our current president. Now, I appreciate Bill’s passion and concern, but my first thought was, “Do we really need to say that telling someone to go back where they came from is racist, not to mention illegal in the workplace?”
“Do we really need to say all immigrants are criminals who come from s-hole countries is wrong? Do we really need to say that calling white nationalists ‘fine people’ gives them credibility they don’t warrant or deserve?” Unfortunately, we do need to say it, and more, because this is not who God is calling us to be and do. I know that this is a heavy message this morning, and I wish it could be sunshine and unicorns, but it’s not.
The reality is that the grace, mercy and unconditional love of God has for us has no meaning unless we name the sin and brokenness that make that grace necessary. We need to acknowledge that no matter how hard we try, we can’t do anything on our own. It’s true that we can’t fix the hurts of this world on our own, but God calls us to faithfulness, not success.
I’m proud of our work in the world combating racism. I’m proud that we have worked to settle immigrant families. I’m proud that we have housed and cared for the homeless. I’m proud that we travel to other communities to stand with them in the fight against poverty. I’m proud that we truly welcome all people to the Lord’s Supper without any qualifications or restrictions. The work is ongoing and we are strengthened to do so when we remember that our unity comes in, with and through Jesus Christ who died for all so that all may live. Will you join with me in spreading that message of love? Thanks be to God. Amen.
Pentecost 8 – Summer Series: “Brushes with God”
August 4, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 11.1-9
One day, during a gym class at East Jr. Hi in Richfield, the teacher set up a short race, 100 yards, I think. He wanted to see who the fastest runners were and picked those he thought would have a chance to win. I begged to have a chance to compete. I thought if I ran and worked hard I could win the race or if not, make a good showing. Grudgingly, he agreed to let me try and you know what happened: I got smoked, didn’t even come close to the others. You see, thinking you can do something, trying hard doesn’t always translate into winning. I learned a valuable, if not painful lesson that day about being a “legend in my own mind.”
The inhabitants of Shinar, what was known as Babylon, were legend-makers in process, or so they thought. On a basic level, the Babel story is an origin story. It tells how the variety of languages developed in the ancient world. But the story is more complicated than that. You would think that being unified, working together for a common cause would be something to be applauded. The problem is that they were unified by the wrong thing, something counter to God’s mission for them. They decided who they were going to be and what they’d be doing without a thought towards God.
Today we look at the Babel story through the eyes of 16th century Dutch painter Pieter Bruegel, the Elder. There are actually two paintings of the Tower each slightly different. This one hangs in Vienna and the other, smaller one hangs in Rotterdam. Now, it’s helpful to know that Bruegel painted in the heat of the Protestant Reformation and its resistance to the authority and abuses of the Roman Catholic Church. During this time many referred to Rome (the Papacy) as Babylon and it is no coincidence that Bruegel’s Tower of Babel looks like a Roman Coliseum.
Bruegel, like many of his day, painted ancient stories in contemporary images. Thus there ships in the harbor, a landscape that looks European, and nobility and workers clothed in typical garb of the day. We don’t know who the nobleman is, but the tower itself is telling: it is crumbling even as it is being built. Rome, called the Eternal City, was collapsing, a sign of the futility of prideful human effort. For Bruegel, the painting symbolized the struggle between a church worshiping in Latin and Protestants from many languages and cultures.
The warning in both the Babel story and painting is this: unity for the wrong reason is dangerous and even possibly evil. We ask ourselves, “Why is it that people most often get unified when they are unified against other people?” The Babel story tells us that a better shot at unity comes when we ask who we are as God’s people and what God intends for us. We always need to ask what God is calling us to be and do, something our Transition Task Force and the church council has been doing the last year. Furthermore, we’ve been careful to make sure our own building project is mission based, not human based, and I think we will succeed.
Like many of you, I’m concerned about the destructive unity in our country and world with groups attacking one another. A week ago, Bill Anderson brought me a copy of an article by Jim Wallis that appeared in Sojourner’s online magazine (https://sojo.net/articles/who-will-call-out-presidents-racism). He and the other members of his Friday morning discussion group agreed to bring this article to their pastors and implore them to call out racism, especially that of our current president. Now, I appreciate Bill’s passion and concern, but my first thought was, “Do we really need to say that telling someone to go back where they came from is racist, not to mention illegal in the workplace?”
“Do we really need to say all immigrants are criminals who come from s-hole countries is wrong? Do we really need to say that calling white nationalists ‘fine people’ gives them credibility they don’t warrant or deserve?” Unfortunately, we do need to say it, and more, because this is not who God is calling us to be and do. I know that this is a heavy message this morning, and I wish it could be sunshine and unicorns, but it’s not.
The reality is that the grace, mercy and unconditional love of God has for us has no meaning unless we name the sin and brokenness that make that grace necessary. We need to acknowledge that no matter how hard we try, we can’t do anything on our own. It’s true that we can’t fix the hurts of this world on our own, but God calls us to faithfulness, not success.
I’m proud of our work in the world combating racism. I’m proud that we have worked to settle immigrant families. I’m proud that we have housed and cared for the homeless. I’m proud that we travel to other communities to stand with them in the fight against poverty. I’m proud that we truly welcome all people to the Lord’s Supper without any qualifications or restrictions. The work is ongoing and we are strengthened to do so when we remember that our unity comes in, with and through Jesus Christ who died for all so that all may live. Will you join with me in spreading that message of love? Thanks be to God. Amen.
Sunday, July 28, 2019
"Outside In" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
Outside In
Pentecost 7 – Summer Series, “Brushes with God”
July 28, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 15.1-3, 11-32
A number of years ago—a long time ago and far, far away—a colleague told me of an experience he had as an associate pastor. He noticed that the senior pastor frequently and publicly praised the other associate pastor. Now, although the other associate was worthy of praise, this never happened for him. Even more curious, my colleague noticed that the senior pastor would praise him during his annual review, but never publicly. He was praised once a year, in private. One day, my colleague-friend screwed up his courage and bared his soul to the senior pastor, telling him how awful that felt. The next Sunday the senior pastor publicly praised him in worship, but it seemed to my friend an insincere and hollow gesture.
This experience reminded me of the older son in the Parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke chapter 15. Today we look at the story through the eyes of Rembrandt, the 17th century Dutch master. In some ways, this is the painting that gave birth to the idea for this summer’s sermon series. Somewhere along the way, I picked up a book by Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming and it transformed my understanding of both art and this story. Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest and prolific writer on spirituality.
Over the period of decades, Nouwen would make trips to the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia and just sit with the painting. He would spend as much time as possible simply meditating on the painting and the story. Interestingly, over a period of time he found himself relating to each character at various points in his life. Through Nouwen, I realized paintings are meant to be savored like fine wine, not guzzled like cheap beer. I learned that each brush stroke had a purpose in the painting and to try to receive what the artist was trying to give me. I began to ask myself what a particular artist was trying to convey in the paintings I was viewing.
I don’t think that there is another of Jesus’ parables that elicits as strong a response from us as the Prodigal Son. So, what do you see in Rembrandt’s painting that brings home the story to you?
This is arguably Rembrandt’s greatest painting—perhaps the greatest of all time—and like all great art it is often discussed. Many take note the difference in father’s hands as both masculine and feminine, showing both characteristics of mothering and fathering. On the other hand, the older son’s hands are crossed, perhaps in judgment, and he clearly stands outside looking in. The identity of the characters in the shadows is debated, but most likely they are the servants, watching the action. The younger son is dressed in tatters as compared to the luxurious garments of the father and older son. And notice the lighting: the soft glow around the father and younger son. Yet, what struck me this week is the dark gulf between the father and older son, not to mention the latter’s wistfulness. He stands above the father and his younger brother, but desires to belong.
It’s not hard to read ourselves into both the story and painting. For me this week it’s been the older son. I’ve long realized he is as lost as his younger brother, but the memory of my colleague’s experience amplifies that sense of lost-ness. He yearns for the same kind of love and acceptance as his younger brother, not realizing they’re already his. Jesus wants us to know that both brothers are being welcomed home by the extravagant love of the father.
Many of you remember the comic, “Dennis the Menace.” In one episode, Dennis and Joey are walking away from Mrs. Wilson’s house with arms full of cookies. Joey wonders how that can be, what they’ve done to deserve such a generous treat. Dennis responds, “Mrs. Wilson doesn’t give us cookies because we’re nice; she gives us cookies because she’s nice.” The same is true for God the Father. We receive God’s generous love because God loves, not because we are lovable.
We don’t know if the older son is reconciled to his younger brother and father, but we don’t need to know, Through Jesus Christ, his life, death and resurrection, all of us have been brought home to God. Some of you are feeling that you are on the outside looking in today, not worthy of God’s love, but please know that the gulf between God and us and between us and each other has been closed for good. We don’t have to do anything because it has already been done for us; accept the fact that you are accepted. As my colleague knows, our world doesn’t always operate that way, but thank God that God always does. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Pentecost 7 – Summer Series, “Brushes with God”
July 28, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 15.1-3, 11-32
A number of years ago—a long time ago and far, far away—a colleague told me of an experience he had as an associate pastor. He noticed that the senior pastor frequently and publicly praised the other associate pastor. Now, although the other associate was worthy of praise, this never happened for him. Even more curious, my colleague noticed that the senior pastor would praise him during his annual review, but never publicly. He was praised once a year, in private. One day, my colleague-friend screwed up his courage and bared his soul to the senior pastor, telling him how awful that felt. The next Sunday the senior pastor publicly praised him in worship, but it seemed to my friend an insincere and hollow gesture.
This experience reminded me of the older son in the Parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke chapter 15. Today we look at the story through the eyes of Rembrandt, the 17th century Dutch master. In some ways, this is the painting that gave birth to the idea for this summer’s sermon series. Somewhere along the way, I picked up a book by Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming and it transformed my understanding of both art and this story. Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest and prolific writer on spirituality.
Over the period of decades, Nouwen would make trips to the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia and just sit with the painting. He would spend as much time as possible simply meditating on the painting and the story. Interestingly, over a period of time he found himself relating to each character at various points in his life. Through Nouwen, I realized paintings are meant to be savored like fine wine, not guzzled like cheap beer. I learned that each brush stroke had a purpose in the painting and to try to receive what the artist was trying to give me. I began to ask myself what a particular artist was trying to convey in the paintings I was viewing.
I don’t think that there is another of Jesus’ parables that elicits as strong a response from us as the Prodigal Son. So, what do you see in Rembrandt’s painting that brings home the story to you?
This is arguably Rembrandt’s greatest painting—perhaps the greatest of all time—and like all great art it is often discussed. Many take note the difference in father’s hands as both masculine and feminine, showing both characteristics of mothering and fathering. On the other hand, the older son’s hands are crossed, perhaps in judgment, and he clearly stands outside looking in. The identity of the characters in the shadows is debated, but most likely they are the servants, watching the action. The younger son is dressed in tatters as compared to the luxurious garments of the father and older son. And notice the lighting: the soft glow around the father and younger son. Yet, what struck me this week is the dark gulf between the father and older son, not to mention the latter’s wistfulness. He stands above the father and his younger brother, but desires to belong.
It’s not hard to read ourselves into both the story and painting. For me this week it’s been the older son. I’ve long realized he is as lost as his younger brother, but the memory of my colleague’s experience amplifies that sense of lost-ness. He yearns for the same kind of love and acceptance as his younger brother, not realizing they’re already his. Jesus wants us to know that both brothers are being welcomed home by the extravagant love of the father.
Many of you remember the comic, “Dennis the Menace.” In one episode, Dennis and Joey are walking away from Mrs. Wilson’s house with arms full of cookies. Joey wonders how that can be, what they’ve done to deserve such a generous treat. Dennis responds, “Mrs. Wilson doesn’t give us cookies because we’re nice; she gives us cookies because she’s nice.” The same is true for God the Father. We receive God’s generous love because God loves, not because we are lovable.
We don’t know if the older son is reconciled to his younger brother and father, but we don’t need to know, Through Jesus Christ, his life, death and resurrection, all of us have been brought home to God. Some of you are feeling that you are on the outside looking in today, not worthy of God’s love, but please know that the gulf between God and us and between us and each other has been closed for good. We don’t have to do anything because it has already been done for us; accept the fact that you are accepted. As my colleague knows, our world doesn’t always operate that way, but thank God that God always does. Thanks be to God! Amen.
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