Lenten Disciplines for our World

There are traditionally four Lenten disciplines in which to engage, as we look toward the new life promised at Easter: prayer, almsgiving, study, and fasting.

In this time in our country and world, I have wondered how my Lenten disciplines can help me engage with the world and help those who are particularly vulnerable right now. Here is what I have come up with:

PRAYER:

* I will focus in my prayer on a different vulnerable group each week:

Week 1: Refugees and immigrants
Week 2: The environment, and those who most dramatically feel the effects of climate change
Week 3: Children and public education
Week 4: Ethnic and religious minorities and people of color
Week 5: People will disabilities, chronic health issues, and those who don't have access to affordable healthcare (or won't, if the ACA is repealed and not adequately replaced)
Week 6: Veterans, the unemployed, people with mental illness and addictions

(NOTE: None of these name hunger or poverty, which are obviously huge concerns of mine and I hope everyone, but each has hunger/poverty as a side effect or important piece of the puzzle, so my prayers each week will be also for those who hunger.)

** In addition: The two congregations I have been called to serve have a covenant with one another, and one of the things they covenant to do is pray for one another. To keep that covenant, we have a Lenten prayer vigil, in which every day another family from each church is the focus of everyone's prayer. I am going to try to call each of those families on the day on which we pray for them (or close to it), to ask what in particular I can pray for.

ALMSGIVING:

I will give money each week of Lent to an organization that helps the above groups:
Week 1: Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services
Week 2: Environmental Defense Fund
Week 3: Rochester Education Foundation (helps our Rochester city schools)
Week 4: American Civil Liberties Union
Week 5: Heritage Christian Services (a local organization that serves people with disabilities)
Week 6: Operation Homefront

This is a combination of local and national organizations, and each has at least an A- rating on CharityWatch (except the local ones, which aren't on CharityWatch, but came recommended by people in the know).

I'm also going to subscribe to a couple of publications to help support and keep alive legit journalism. I'm thinking Wall Street Journal will be one of them. Of course, since I am a millennial, it'll be an online subscription. ;)

STUDY:
For Lent, my congregations are studying Martin Luther's Small Catechism, so my preparations for that will take most of my studying energies. Of course, I'll be studying it with all these things in mind. In addition, I will learn something about each of the above areas to guide my prayer, looking to print news sources on both sides of the spectrum, and especially rigorous, investigative articles.

FASTING:
Fasting should be a fast from self-indulgence. Well, chocolate and meat are not indulgences for me. As I think about what would complement the above disciplines, it occurs to me that I need to fast from my privileged neglect - or put more bluntly, from laziness. So much of what I see happening in our country upsets me, but because so little of it affects me directly and personally, it is easy to share something on Facebook, but expect someone else to do something about it. So for my fast, I will actually be doing something: I will commit to call representatives on issues facing the above groups each week.

My hope is that by engaging in God's world in these ways, I will gain more compassion for my neighbors whose lives differ from mine, even as I do my part to live out "thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven."

Will you join me in any of these? If not, will you pray for me, as I take them on?

"Wipe clean my heart": Preparation for Ash Wednesday

Like most babies, my little Isaac has chubby little baby rolls on his neck. They are, of course, adorable... until that horrifying moment when he stretches his head back and you realize that, stuck in that sweet baby fat, is some of the milk that had dribbled down his chin, mixed with some of the dirt from when we played outside with sister. Because of all that cute baby fat, the tenderness of the area, and his still stiff newborn body, this space tucked deep in his fat rolls is very difficult to clean, and because it remains mostly hidden, all that gunk eventually causes irritation on his soft skin. The area can't heal until he lifts his chin, and it can be wiped clean.

It occurred to me that this is a helpful metaphor as we prepare this week for Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. The penitential season of Lent always begins with this service focused on confession of sins - a confession that continues through the six weeks of Lent until Easter. The Psalm appointed for the day is always Psalm 51, with its well-known line, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me."

I've long loved this image of seeking a clean heart, but seeing what happens in those hidden spaces of my sweet little boy's baby fat really put a picture to it - for our hearts are just the same. We may not even notice what sins are stuck in those hidden places of our hearts, may not even notice that their presence there is causing irritation. We can't see that the longer they remain, the more irritation they cause. Eventually it starts to affect us in external ways - in our relationships, our faith, our way of being in the world.

Until, one day, we finally lift our chins, look up to heaven, and ask God to "wash me through and through... cleanse me from my sin... Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me." With our chins lifted toward God in prayer, and that dirt and sin that would irritate our tender hearts revealed, God is able, finally, to wipe us clean. After we are wiped clean, we are able, finally, to heal, to love, to serve God in newness of life.

What gunk is stuck in the tender places of your heart? What sins are irritating you and keeping you from the fullness of life that God envisions for you? What do you need wiped clean?

Sermon: Listen to him and do not be afraid (Feb. 26, 2017)

Transfiguration A

February 26, 2017

Matthew17:1-9

Preaching at Reformation Lutheran (pulpit exchange)

            It’s wonderful to be with you this morning! Thank you for welcoming me into your congregation. When the list came out for the pulpit exchange, I was delighted to see I had been assigned to be with the good folks at Reformation.

Since we don’t know each other very well, let me start by telling you two fun facts about myself: 1) I love to shop at thrift and consignment shops, because I hate buying things new. And 2) I love to talk to strangers.

With those two facts about me in mind, let me tell you a story about a time I was totally in my element, and then I totally wasn’t: A few years ago, I was shopping at one of my favorite consignment shops, and found a sweater I liked. While I was paying, I was trying to make conversation with the woman who worked there, but she was very disjointed, and kept saying how scattered her mind was this week… and then she finally said, “I’ve been absent-minded all week. My niece was killed on Sunday.” Figuring she must have told me this because she needed to talk about it, I gently asked what happened, and listened to her story. As she spoke I felt a voice saying, “Tell her you’re a pastor. Give her your contact info. Pray with her.” I started praying silently throughout the conversation, but the voice wouldn’t quit. But something kept me from listening to it: I was afraid. I didn’t want things to turn awkward. I didn’t want to put myself out there. Before I left, I told her I would be praying for her and her family, but even as I said it I knew that I still wasn’t listening to what that voice was telling me, because I was still afraid.

It turns out, that encounter happened just before Transfiguration Day, and that year, I heard this story of Jesus’ magnificent change on a mountaintop a little differently. The part that leapt out and clung to my heart was first God’s words, “This is my Son. Listen to him!” followed so shortly by, “and the disciples fell to the ground and were overcome with fear.” It seemed to describe to a T my encounter in the consignment shop, where God had clearly said to my heart, “This is my Son, listen to him!” and I – even though I love talking to strangers – responded with fear and resistance.

Tell me I’m not alone here. Do you have a similar story? A time when you felt God telling you something, but the task for whatever reason seemed to overwhelm you with fear? It happens to me all the time: I see an opportunity, I am excited by the potential of it, but I quickly dismiss the idea because I am too afraid… rationalizing it with statements like, “It’ll never work, it won’t make a difference, I don’t have time, it’s too expensive,” and other reasonable things like that. You see,

I am very good at letting my own voice speak more loudly than God’s.

 “This is my Son. Listen to him!” said that voice to the disciples, and so also to me and to all of us. And they fell to the ground and were overcome with fear. They did not know what it might mean to listen to Jesus. What might he tell them to do – things that are difficult and scary and out of their comfort zone?  What might it mean for their lives – a change? A transformation for which they aren’t prepared? A venture into a way of life that is entirely unfamiliar? Of course they – we! – are overcome with fear!

This month, Reformation has been observing Black History Month, and Pastor Imani let me know that on this Sunday, The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would be the person from black history that is lifted up. Of course, he is not only a part of black history, but an integral part of American history. His dreams and his words, woven together with the promises of scripture that shaped him as a Baptist preacher, have become as ingrained in our American vocabulary as the Declaration of Independence or the Gettysburg Address. His relentless work on behalf of civil rights is widely commended, lauded, and lifted up as faithful and patriotic example. He is a giant of American history, a contemporary prophet.

Of course, like all prophets, he wasn’t nearly so lauded in the time when he was doing that important work. He was threatened, arrested, dismissed, even received hundreds of death threats. He recounts one night in 1956, after receiving a particularly chilling death threat, when he found himself unable to sleep. He

made himself some coffee and sat at the kitchen table. With his head in his hands, he cried out to God. He later recalled, quoting the old spiritual, “I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone… He promised never to leave me, no never alone.”

            “This is my Son. Listen to him!” Thank God that brother Martin was not afraid that night to listen to Jesus’ voice! He had every reason to be – far more reason than most of us have to dismiss God’s calling to us. He had every reason to go to that mountaintop to view the Promised Land, and respond, “No way. It is too hard. The personal sacrifice is too great. I quit.” But he didn’t. He listened. He kept that vision of God’s glory in his heart and mind. And though he may very well have been overcome by fear, he marched on, fought for the oppressed, and rode that arc of the moral universe just as close to justice as he could get in his too-short time on earth.

What an important time in history it is to lift up his legacy – his legacy of listening to Christ in the face of fear, and acting in faith. As I look around at the state of the world, the state of our country, I keep on thinking: we’ve got work to do. Division and hatred are rampant. Racism looks different now than it did when Martin Luther King was doing his work, but it is definitely still a reality. Some people fear for their lives, whether they have a pre-existing condition that could preclude them from healthcare, or because they have the wrong color of skin, the wrong religion, or the wrong walk of life. We’re in the midst of the biggest refugee crisis since World War 2. Poverty rates in our own city are too high, and graduation rates are too low. We might look at any number of the problems in our city, in our country, in our world, and ask God what we should do about it, and the answer we get when we “listen to him” is not the one we want to hear. For getting involved in any of these issues – plus the countless others I didn’t even mention –

causes fear: fear for our safety, fear for our comfort level, fear for our reputation, fear for our personal relationships with people we love but disagree with, fear for our way of life and our view of the world. Listening to God puts us at risk, and that’s scary. I would rather just bask in God’s glory on a mountaintop, blissfully unaware of what is happening back down in the valley, at the bottom of the mountain. I would rather listen to my own voice instead of Jesus’, because my voice is full of reason and safe ideas. Jesus’ voice too often causes me to be overcome with fear.

Listening to Jesus can be paralyzingly scary. He often asks us to do things we are uncomfortable doing. No one knows this better than Jesus himself, who ended up on a cross for doing what God told him!

But the grace of our faith is that the story doesn’t stop there, in fear and death. It doesn’t stop at the cross, nor with the disciples on the ground overcome with fear. After they fall to the ground in fear, Jesus comes to them, touches them, and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Get up, and do not be afraid. Do not be afraid, because after this, we’re gonna walk down this mountain, face the world, see just how bad it can get… and then I’m gonna show you that I am more powerful than all of that. I’m gonna show you that death has no power over me, and because of that, you have nothing to fear.

            Fear can be paralyzing. Death can be devastating. But Christ could not have shown us that ours is a God of new life without first going through the fear and death. And so we are empowered to face what pains and uncertainties might come from listening to Jesus’ voice – as challenging as it is comforting – because we have been assured that out of this comes transformation: a new and glorious life that would not have been otherwise possible.

This is God’s Son. Listen to him, and do not be afraid.

            Let us pray… Glorious God, you have promised to bring life out of our fear and death. Give us the courage, then, to listen to your voice, to trust you, and not to be afraid. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Ministry is risky, or should be (Feb. 19, 2017)

Epiphany 7A

Feb. 19, 2017           

Matthew 5:38-48

1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23

            This week at Bethlehem’s council meeting, we were discussing the parsonage. This is a conversation that has been going on for a couple years – more than that, really. A house is quite an asset for a congregation to own, but more often than not, Bethlehem’s is not being used. For it to stand empty is not good stewardship of our resources, but the question is, what would be good stewardship? How is God calling us to use this asset, and the property that goes with it? Or, is the best stewardship to let that asset go?

As the process and conversation have gone prayerfully on, several ideas have come and gone. Sometimes an idea looks promising, but just as soon as we start to imagine the potential, the fears creep in. “But what if this happens, or that? What about liability? How will this affect our taxes?” They are all important questions, and while they need to be asked, they also usher us safely back into our comfort zones. But the faithful refrain which I have heard emerge out of these concerns, and which I heard at our council meeting this week, is, “Ministry is risky.”

            Ministry is risky. Truer words have never been spoken. The life that Jesus calls us to live is not easy, and sometimes not even safe. There’s a reason so many early Christians were martyred – killed for practicing their faith! It’s because the things to which our faith calls us are counter-cultural. They are not of this world. They run contrary to the norms of this earthly kingdom. And because of that, they are often upsetting, and they are frequently risky. In fact, in the first century, merely claiming, “Jesus is Lord,” was an affront to the government – they should have been saying Caesar was Lord, not this Jesus! This very declaration got a lot of people killed!

            Perhaps one of the riskiest things Jesus ever said was what we heard in today’s portion of the Sermon on the Mount: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” The

imperative is so familiar to us that it may have lost its punch. When we consider it conceptually, it’s very nice – who could be against loving one another? What Christian could possibly be against praying for people, even for those who persecute us? After all, they need prayer most of all! Yes, yes, we say, love everyone, even and especially our enemies.

            Yes, conceptually, Jesus’ command is very nice, and quite safe. But the niceness and safety melt away when we try actually to put it in action. When we think about the people who drive us nuts, who have hurt us either physically or emotionally, who threaten our way of life and our world view, who scare us, whose past and beliefs are unknown to us, who don’t act or look like us, who act in ways we find reprehensible… Then, loving becomes more difficult. More risky.

And it becomes more difficult still when we really consider what love looks like in Christ’s kingdom. One way it can look is certainly donating items and money to help those in need. Churches are really good at that. It is a very good, important, and safe way to share God’s love.

But is it the full extent to which Christ calls us to love one another? 

Before Jesus tells us to love our enemies, he lays out several strange ways of interacting with people: turn the other cheek when someone hits you, give your cloak to someone who takes your shirt, when you are made to walk one mile, walk an additional mile. Counter-cultural. Against the norm. Out of our natural inclinations and our comfort zones. Really, these imperatives are, in many ways, ridiculous! Yet… this is Christ’s kingdom! He is constantly asking us to do things that by worldly standards are sheer foolishness!

I suppose that’s what Paul was getting at in his letter to the Corinthians that we heard a moment ago. “If you think that you are wise in this age,” he writes, “you should become fools so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.” Oh, I find this so frustrating! I have amassed tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt so that I could become wise – and now Paul is saying that all of this is foolishness to God? That all of our rational thought, our keen insight, our educated decisions – all of this is ultimately foolishness to God?

In a word… yes! Because all of our thinking about things, our careful consideration of consequences, our over rationalization, usually leads us away from the radical love of neighbor – neighbors we love and neighbors who are enemies, either real or perceived. For Jesus, there is only one question to ponder: what is the most loving way to act toward my neighbor? It is not, “Is

this safe?” It is not, “Is this in my personal best interest?” No, Jesus never said, “Love your neighbor, within limits,” or, “Love your neighbor, just as long as it is in the best interest of your personal safety.” He said, “Love your neighbor, love your enemy, and pray for those who persecute you. Full stop.” All that Jesus calls us to is for the sake of the other, and in particular, for the sake of the disadvantaged, disenfranchised, or oppressed other.

I’ll admit to you, I don’t like this command. It is too hard, too scary – it seems impossible. “Ministry is risky” is easy enough to say, a nice enough way to start a sermon, but enacting it is an entirely different ball game! And sometimes we would prefer to come to church and find respite and comfort, not conviction and the sense that we are not doing enough, that the love we are willing to share is not enough, that we are not, as Jesus says, “perfect, just as our heavenly Father is perfect,” and never will be. I get that. I, too, want to be comfortable in my faith, comfortable with my relationship with God and with others. Who doesn’t want to be comfortable?

But it turns out, Jesus never promised to make us comfortable. That’s an important distinction: Jesus never promised to make us comfortable – but, he did and does promise to bring us comfort. But this comfort doesn’t come in the form of a pat on the back, nor a pass on our baptismal call to love one another. No, Christ’s comfort comes in the promise we hear each week that we are forgiven. It comes in the words, “This is my body, given for you. This is my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sin.” That is where our comfort lies. That is what we can return to after we go out and do the risky business of ministry, even putting our own safety on the line for the sake of loving our neighbors – both those whom we love, and those we might consider enemies.

Ministry is risky. Christ’s ministry took him to the cross, killed as a common criminal. Following Christ is counter-cultural, and even foolish at times, and frequently unsafe. Indeed, the only reason we are able to walk in Christ’s ways is because of those promises from God – the promise of forgiveness, love, and grace. We are able to do it because God empowers us to do it. We are able to do it because we know and trust that if God calls us to it, then God will walk with us through it. And with each step we take, with Christ by our side, we come closer to becoming whole, complete, becoming “perfect,” and living into our baptismal call and the people God envisions us to be.

Let us pray… Gracious God, you call us to the tough and risky work of ministry, asking us to love our enemies with an active love, and pray for those who persecute us. Give us the courage to follow this call, trusting ever in the comfort your promises bring. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Choosing life in the law (Feb. 12, 2017)

Epiphany 6A

February 19, 2017

Deuteronomy 30:15-20

Matthew 5:21-37

             The Israelites have been wandering in the wilderness for 40 years. Finally, finally, they are about to enter the Promised Land, to begin a new phase of their lives as God’s people. Though he has traveled with them this far, Moses knows he will not, in the end, enter that Promised Land with them, so he offers them this sermon, part of which we heard a moment ago, to instruct and prepare them for this new life.

            The stark contrasts and choices he lays out for them seem pretty obvious: you can choose life and prosperity, he says, or death and adversity. Hmmm, tough call… I think I’ll go with life! No-brainer, right?

            And yes, that’s what Moses tells them to choose: “Choose life,” he says, “so that you and your descendants may live.” Seems simple enough, until you start to realize what choosing life really looks like, what it implies: following all of God’s commands, not being swayed to look toward other gods, listening to God’s word…. Okay, well, that can’t be too hard, right? I mean, the 10 Commandments aren’t so hard to follow: I have never murdered someone, for example, I don’t steal, I go to church, I don’t commit adultery, and I can’t think of one time when I’ve coveted my neighbor’s ox or donkey! Sure, we all slip up now and then, but by and large we’re pretty good at following the rules, right?

            I’ll venture to say that we have lured ourselves into a false sense of security regarding our obedience to God’s laws. And the part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount that we heard today blows that security to pieces, as he hits all the topics that make us the most uncomfortable. I joked to my colleagues this week that I should start this sermon by saying, “People are tired of hearing about politics, so today, let’s follow Jesus’ lead and talk instead about sex, money, and divorce.”

Indeed, Jesus has some tough words on all those taboo topics today! And even things we

Sermon on the mount by Laura James
http://www.laurajamesart.com/bio.htm

thought we were immune to, like murder, are suddenly, in Jesus’ interpretation, very real risks for us. Jesus says we have murdered anyone whom we insult, or anyone about whom we hold a grudge, or any relationship in which we haven’t actively tried to reconcile. Looking at adultery – for Jesus, you don’t have to have committed the act, you only have to have felt lust for someone other than your spouse. While Moses was a little soft on divorce, Jesus seems to have no tolerance for it except in the case of infidelity. And finally, any sort of swearing or false promises are “from the evil one.” Wow… I don’t think there is a person alive who hasn’t fallen into these traps – probably multiple times a day!

But before we fall into a pit of hopelessness over the very high bar Jesus has set for obedience, let’s look at all of these a little differently, through the lens of Moses’ imperative to “choose life.” Regarding murder, and anger, and grudges: in my experience, and perhaps in yours as well, insulting others and holding onto anger and grudges does not bring life. In fact, it is the opposite – it eats away at my heart, tainting everything, even that which would have, otherwise, been life-giving. What is far more life-giving is when we work hard with someone to reconcile, or at least to understand one another, to have honest conversation, to work to see in one another God’s own image, to see one another as children of God. Choosing relationship over anger is, indeed, choosing life.

Regarding Jesus’ words on adultery: he urges us not to see other people merely as objects for our pleasure. Anyone who has been either victim or perpetrator in a case of adultery knows what brokenness it leaves in its wake. That brokenness is not life. Being objectified by someone’s lustful eyes and heart is not life. Faithfulness to one another, dedication to one another – this is what is fulfilling. This is what brings life.

And divorce – this is a tough one, as more people than not have been touched by divorce, and the pain it brings. For this one, it is helpful to consider Jesus’ words contextually. In the first century, a woman had no rights; her identity and livelihood were wrapped up in her husband. Men could discard their wives on a whim, for any reason at all – then leaving the woman completely helpless, and now that she was divorced, she was damaged goods, and no other man would want her. Where today a divorced woman is able to move on to have a fruitful life, a career, maybe even get married again, in the first century a divorced woman had nothing but the generosity of strangers. For Jesus to bring this up is to stand with a marginalized, vulnerable population, to stand up for the safety and well-being of women. In this case, divorce was choosing death, in some cases, quite literally. Choosing relationship, and care for the under-privileged, is choosing life.

Do you see a theme here? Over and over again, Jesus’ tough interpretations of the law, interpretations that convict every last one us, point us toward the importance of relationship. They point us toward that essential Christian command to love your neighbor, and care for his or her needs. In other words, choosing life means: choosing the life of your neighbor, choosing what will allow your neighbor to thrive.

This is also very clearly expressed in Luther’s Small Catechism. In his explanation of the 10 commandments, Luther says they are not just about what we should not do, but also what we should do instead. For example, the fifth commandment is you shall not murder, but instead,

“help and support your neighbor in all life’s needs.” Not only should we not commit adultery, we should instead, “lead pure and decent lives in word and deed, and each of us love and honor his or her spouse.” You see, again and again, the law is about choosing life – choosing the life of your neighbor, choosing the life of the other, figuring out what will bring life to you, to others, and to your relationships with others, and choosing that.

“Choose life,” says Deuteronomy, “so that you and your family may live.” And as we reflect on this as Christians, and especially as Christians today, we see our “family” as extending to all the children of God. Choose neighbor life, choose downtrodden life, choose black life, choose poor life, choose refugee life, choose Native life, choose Muslim life, choose child life, choose elderly life, choose veteran life, choose addicted life, choose prisoner life, choose fill-in-the-blank-with-whomever-you-find-it-difficult-to-love life… so that you and your descendants may live. For when we choose the life of all of these members of God’s family, when we choose relationship over seclusion, isolation, or self-interest, that is when we truly follow God’s commands.

It isn’t easy, that’s for sure, and I know that in framing it this way, I personally am no less convicted by Moses’ or Jesus’ outlining of the law. Every single day, we fall short of obedience to God’s commands. That is why we come here each week, to be fed by the Word of God, to be reminded that in all the ways we fall short of God’s commands, we are forgiven. The law convicts us, to be sure, but just as quickly, Jesus, in all his grace and love, redeems us, calling us back into life-giving relationship with one another and with him.

Let us pray… God of life, we would sometimes choose selfishness and isolation over the hard work of being in life-giving relationships with our neighbors. Help us to look beyond ourselves, and toward the ways our choices can bring life to our neighbors, your children, no matter who they are. In the name of the Father and the Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.