Sermon: What must we cast aside? (October 27, 2024)

Pentecost 23B (Reformation Sunday)
October 27, 2024
Mark 10:46-52

INTRODUCTION

Usually on Reformation Day, we get two sets of texts to choose from: the regular lectionary texts, or the Reformation themed texts. I chose a little of each – the first two readings and Psalm are from the Reformation set. They talk about Christian freedom and grace and all those things Lutherans love to talk about. But I stuck with the Gospel reading from Mark, which provides some closure to the series of gospel readings we’ve been hearing these past weeks.

Here's why: it has to do with an important part of Mark’s structure. This Gospel is sort of in two acts, with a hinge in the middle. The first half, is all about healing and teaching. The last six chapters are the Passion story, which for Mark is the point of this whole story. And in the middle, we get this hinge, chapters 8-10, which are really at the heart of saying who Jesus is. These three chapters include Jesus’ three passion predictions, and several difficult teachings about discipleship, which the disciples misunderstand every time. We’ve been working through these chapters the past 6 weeks or so.

Bookending this centerpiece hinge, are two stories in which Jesus heals a blind man. In the first, it’s a bit of a false start (the guy says, “I see people, but they look like trees walking.”). In contrast, the second, which we’ll hear today, Bartimaeus immediately understands and springs up to follow Jesus. Immediately following this story, Jesus will walk triumphantly into Jerusalem, as Mark begins telling the story of Jesus’ Passion. 

Though recovery from blindness can be a problematic metaphor, it is also a powerful one. The point of these bookending stories is that Jesus has, over these weeks, brought clarity to his mission and to the role of discipleship. And we will see today, not only in the story of Bartimaeus but in all of our readings, that such clarity brings restoration, renewal, understanding, healing, and hope. 

Blind Bartimaeus hears Jesus coming – as you listen today, listen for Jesus’ hope and renewal for you. Restored Bartimaeus springs up to follow Jesus – as you listen today, consider how you will approach Jesus, the source of life. Let’s listen. 

"Bartimaeus," by Gurdon Brewster. http://www.gurdonbrewster.com/gbbartimaeus.html

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Throwing off his cloak, Bartimaeus sprang up and came to Jesus.” 

I have been geeking out about this short story all week, but this is the line that keeps capturing my attention. It’s really a fascinating story, serving as both a bookend to this section of Mark in which we learn some important things about who Jesus is, and as a gateway into Part 2 of Mark’s Gospel (the passion narrator). In the very next scene, Jesus will enter Jerusalem, and everyone will be throwing aside their cloaks onto the roadway, and calling Jesus “son of David” just like Bartimaeus does. There’s all kinds of neat scholarship around his name – he is the only person Jesus heals who is named, and his name is said twice, since Bartimaeus means “son of Timaeus.” (See one interpretation HERE.) Bartimaeus also has parallels to characters all throughout the Gospel – the blind man who started this section back in chapter 8 who did not immediately regain his sight, the rich man from a couple weeks ago (more on the later), James and John from last week (to whom Jesus asks the same question, “What do you want me to do for you?” and they get it wrong), the naked man who runs away during Jesus’ walk to Golgatha, and some scholars even believe the angel clothed in white who meets the women at the tomb is Bartimaeus, now fully clothed once again in a baptismal garment. I mean trust me, this story is a Bible nerd’s dream.

Yet I keep coming back to this strange little detail Mark includes: “throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.” Why would Mark, known for his brevity and rapid-fire storytelling style, pause to give us this detail?

I think Bartimaeus’s cloak can tell us a lot, both about stewardship, as we are now just over halfway through our fall stewardship campaign, and about our celebration of Reformation Day, and about a life of faith more generally. Come along, let’s explore!

First, let’s go back to earlier in this chapter, the story we heard a couple of weeks ago: the story of Jesus and the rich man. The man comes to Jesus asking what he must do to inherit eternal life, and do you remember what Jesus told him? He tells him to sell everything he owns and give the proceeds to the poor. And the man’s response to this difficult teaching? Mark tells us “he went away grieving, for he had many possessions.” Now here at the end of that same chapter, we have another man who is the opposite: he is poor, a beggar, he is blind, and he has a single possession to his name – this cloak, which serves as his warmth, his bed, and the place where he gathers money, so, his livelihood. It is everything. And he’s opposite in another way: where the rich man has so much he can’t bear to give it up, Bartimaeus doesn’t just “leave” is sole possession, he “throws it aside.” He is eager. He sees (or rather, hears) someone who can give him the life he longs for. The rich man asked Jesus how to get the life he wanted, but Bartimaeus knows before he asks: life is with Jesus, not the cloak. 

I don’t know about you, but I’m a lot more like the rich man in this comparison. I’m much more likely to depend upon my possessions to satisfy me. I’m more likely to put my trust in things I can see concretely right before me – my bank account, my property, certain people. But maybe that’s the difference between me and Bartimaeus – I rely on what I can see… but he can’t see. He isn’t distracted by all the things demanding his attention. So he relies on the Jesus he hears, the Jesus he feels, who is active around him, the Jesus who promises him life, who makes him whole. 

Now, I can’t (and don’t want to) give up my sight, but there are other things I can do to actively put my trust in Jesus, and one of them is what this stewardship season is all about: generosity! Letting go! And it’s why we ask you to state your intent for giving: the statement of intent form for how much you will give to the church does help us, practically speaking, but it is also a way to make a promise to God, a way to say, “I do trust you. I trust you so much that I’m willing to throw aside this bit of security, and perhaps, give a little more than I originally planned, even a little more than is comfortable at first, so that I will put my trust in you, instead.” In pledging to give to God through St. Paul’s, we are, in this way, throwing our cloaks, our visible security, aside, in favor of trusting Jesus. 

Of course, this metaphor applies in more ways than just money, and we would do well to reflect on this Reformation Day on some of those ways. Mark’s Gospel often uses the cloak as symbolic of a dramatic shift, often toward a new way of life. Maybe that shift is or needs to be a financial one – thinking differently about where we find our security, and placing our treasure where we want to see our heart go, and see, in turn, how our heart changes or reorients. This is certainly a powerful shift, and a concrete one, and it is why financial generosity is such an essential spiritual practice. 

Or perhaps the cloak that needs to be cast aside, is in a perspective or belief about something controversial. As the election nears and voting begins, people are digging their heels in on their opinions, but what would happen if we simply listened to why someone believes the way they do? It likely won’t change our opinion, but it could at least help us understand where they are coming from and grow compassion in our hearts. 

Or maybe we need to cast aside the cloak of judgment, whether that judgment is of ourselves, or of others, or of our circumstances. That judging voice we all know so well, that labels things as stupid, or silly, or bad – it is the cause of so much stress, and it would happily stifle our joy if we let it! Maybe it is time to cast that voice aside, by recognizing it in action, naming it, and then taking a different route.

What cloak do you as an individual need to cast aside? What cloak do we as a congregation, or even as a whole Church, need to cast aside? 

Bartimaeus knew that Jesus would bring him abundant life. On this Reformation Day, let us consider what old ways we need to leave behind, so that we, too, could walk toward that new and abundant life with the eagerness of a blind man about to be made whole.

Let us pray… Reforming God, we cling to what we believe will provide our security, sometimes missing the ways you are calling us toward something new. Give us the courage of Bartimaeus, that we might spring up, cast aside our cloaks, and come to you. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: The world's power vs. Jesus' power (Oct. 20, 2024)

 Pentecost 22B – Confirmation Sunday
October 20, 2024
Mark 10:35-45

INTRODUCTION

For the past few weeks, we have been following Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem – a journey which he knows, and we know, will culminate with suffering and death on the cross. All along this journey, Jesus has been offering some very difficult teachings, to which we have been privy over the past month or so of Sundays. Teachings like, sell everything you own and give it to the poor, and cut off your limbs if they cause you to stumble, and be prepared to leave everything, even your families, and some tough teachings on divorce. Week after week, we’ve been squirming in our seats! Week after week we have been confronted with how difficult it is to be a disciple of Christ!

This week is no exception. Directly before this passage, Jesus has predicted his suffering and death on the cross for a third time, and then we will see James and John respond by completely missing the point (for the third time), and asking Jesus if they can sit by his side in his glory. Little do they know what they are asking! And so Jesus will put them in their place, telling them that his glory looks a lot less like what the world says power is, and a lot more like serving others. 

All of our readings today show us something about what discipleship looks like – like trusting in the creator of the universe, in Job, and in Romans, like living into the arch of death to life into which we were baptized. As you listen, consider what aspects of discipleship are most difficult for you. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Last weekend, my husband and I saw the new movie called, The Apprentice. It is about a young Donald Trump, beginning on the day he meets Roy Cohn, the famously cut-throat lawyer willing to do whatever it takes to win, and who played a significant role in making Trump into the man he is. Cohn takes him under his wing, and teaches him the three rules of success: 1) Attack, attack, attack. 2) Admit nothing, deny everything, and 3) Never admit defeat. The rest of the movie shows the young protégé trying (and sometimes failing) to embrace and live into these guidelines, and ultimately becoming, by the end of the movie, the New York City real estate mogul we knew long before he entered politics. 

Now, I know movies take artistic license and sometimes sensationalize things for effect. But from everything I have read about this film, the depiction of Roy Cohn is spot on. Cohn would do anything to win, to gain power. 

I have been mulling this over ever since. Honestly, this approach sounds consistent to what I have observed among those in power or who want power, whether in business or politics or even in personal relationships: we so often default to believing that power looks like strength or forcefulness, like being right, like not backing down, like winning, and so if you want to be in power, you should do everything you can to put that image forth into the world.  

Of course, this perception of power did not originate with Roy Cohn – this is also how it was in ancient Rome. The Roman Empire understood greatness in terms of brute force and tyranny. To be powerful was to sit in a seat of honor, near to someone else who was in power. So it is no surprise, I suppose, that this is what James and John ask of Jesus in our Gospel reading today. “We want you to do for us whatever we ask of you,” they begin, already asserting themselves as powerful people who can demand what they want and expect to receive it. Jesus humors them. “And what is it that you want?” he asks. They answer, “Say that we can sit at your right hand and your left, in your glory.” In other words, “We know that you are powerful, and we want to be associated with you and your power in a very visual and obvious way, so that we, too, would be viewed as powerful.” Jesus tells them what this will entail – drinking of his same cup (the very same one he prays would pass from him in the Garden on the night of his betrayal), being baptized with his baptism. “Are you able?” he asks. “Yup,” they respond. “We are able,” stating again for the jury that they believe themselves to be Powerful People. 

Now, I want to give these guys the benefit of the doubt here. Perhaps they want that power because they want to use it for good! They must know by now that Jesus’ way is a way of love, and they want to have the power to bring that love to more people. Right? Well even so, they have gone about it all wrong. Because that, Jesus tells them, is not what power looks like in his way of life. Sure, they can be baptized with his baptism, and drink from his cup, but it is not going to look like the power of the Romans, like the power of those who would come by that power through force and craftiness and insistence on their own way and their own rightness. That is not the way of Jesus.

Jesus sees how important it is to get this message through not only to James and John, but to all the disciples. So he calls them all together and explains: “You know that among the Gentiles (that is, the Romans), those whom they recognize as rulers lord it over them, throwing their weight around. Their rulers are tyrants! But that’s not what we’re doing here. Power and glory look different for us. Whoever wishes to become great must become a servant to the others, and whoever wishes to be the top dog among you must be slave of all. That’s what the Son of Man came to do: not to be served by a bunch of people he considers less powerful and glorious than himself. No, he came to serve others; indeed, to give his life for them.”

Oof, this is so counter to what they think of as greatness and power! And it is so different from what we often think of as greatness today. Greatness and power, we think, come from being in control, not giving up control, not being subservient. Greatness and power come from being self-sufficient, and assertive, and not having to rely on anyone other than ourselves and our wits. Power is found in those words James and John say to Jesus with such conviction: “We are able.”

But that’s not the way of Jesus. That’s not to say we can’t be capable if we are Christians – of course we can. Jesus is not calling us to be helpless, incapable doormats. He is calling us to be servants, willing to put ourselves, and our own best interests aside for the sake of the other. He is calling us to love, even if loving someone puts us in harm’s way, even if it doesn’t move us up a rung on the ladder or result in a larger paycheck or a bigger tax break. Sometimes, he is calling us to use whatever power we may have due to our position or station in life, to the benefit of those less privileged, those whose voice is not always listened to or taken seriously. In short, he is calling us to serve and to love.

Our combined children and adult choir will sing in a moment a setting of a lovely hymn called “Will You Let Me Be Your Servant.” Throughout the hymn, servanthood is defined in some less obvious ways: walking together to bear the load, weeping and laughing together, sharing joy and sorrow, speaking words of peace. The first and last verses speak to mutual servanthood: “Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you? Pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.” Because that is another part of power, isn’t it – to admit that we need one another, that sometimes we need to be served, to be helped, because though we may prefer to say, “We are able!” the truth is, we are not, always. And there is great power in acknowledging that.

Today four young men who have completed their confirmation studies, will affirm their faith, and the promises made at their baptism. In preparation for this day, I spent some time talking with them about what it means to be an adult in the Church. Well, my friends, this is a part of what it means: it means selflessly giving what you have to give for the sake of the other – whether that means financial giving, or giving of time and talents, or best of all, all three, since they all serve different purposes both for our own spiritual growth and for service of the world! It means a willingness to serve, and also to be served, because being the Church means we hold each other up, so that when I am strong, I help you, and when you are strong and I need help, you are there for me. And there is real power in that. That is the sort of community of love that Jesus preached and calls us to. It is not all lollypops and sunshine, living a life of faith. It can be very hard – sometimes it leads to the cross. But always it leads to new life. That was promised to us in our baptism, when we were baptized into a death like Jesus’, we were also baptized into a resurrection, a life like his, a life that lasts well beyond our time on earth. 

As Chris, Landon, Jackson, and Derek are confirmed today, I hope you will use this as an opportunity to pray for them, as they commit to this life of love and servanthood. But also use it to pray for one another. Lord knows we all need it. Pray that we would be renewed in our baptismal call to love and serve one another selflessly, considering the needs of the weak and sick and vulnerable in all that we do. And pray that we would always know that the life of faith, though difficult, never stops at the cross, but also continues into the new life promised to us in our baptism.

Let us pray… Glorious God, we can sometimes be a bit full of ourselves and our own abilities. Change our hearts, so that instead we are full of you – so full of you that we are compelled to serve others in your name, and let them serve us, so that we all might experience a glimpse of your kingdom, and the new life you offer. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: It is not good to be alone (Oct. 6, 2024)

Pentecost 20B
October 6, 2024
Genesis 2:18-24, Mark 10:2-16

INTRODUCTION

Today’s texts are a doozie: Jesus tackles marriage and divorce. The Genesis and the Mark texts have been used to cause a lot of pain for Christians over the centuries, keeping people in abusive marriages, shaming people for getting divorced, limiting gender identity and marriage equality. In short, they have been used to bring about hate and rejection of other children of God, rather than love and compassion. 

As you listen to them today, as well as the beautiful texts from Psalms and Hebrews celebrating creation and God’s marvelous power, try to hear not only the centuries of pain, but also the beauty in them. For even as they remind us of human brokenness, they also paint a picture of how human relationship can be. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

The first commentary I read this week on the Mark text began with three words: “Beware these texts.” Yikes. Yes, this is a difficult one, on a topic, divorce, that affects every single person here today, whether directly or through someone you know and love. So, what are we to do with a text like this, in a society in which half of marriages end in divorce? 

Well, the first thing to understand is that this exchange is spoken into a very different system and institution than what we currently live in. Marriage in the first century was more about economics and lineage, while today in western cultures at least, it is more about seeking mutual fulfillment with a loving partner. Observing that is not to give this passage more or less credibility, but is just to say that in some ways we are dealing with apples and oranges here. 

Still, we should take Jesus’ words seriously, and wrestle with it, especially because both this text and the Genesis text it is paired with have caused so much pain to generations of Christians. So let us use this as an opportunity to think spiritually about marriage, divorce, and more generally, covenantal partnership. 

Let’s start with the Genesis text, a text that has been used against people in the LGBTQ+ community because of its binary gender language and assumption that marriage must always be between a man and a woman. More essential here, though, is this: that the first human was lonely, and the second human was made to be a “fitting partner” for the first human. After a whole chapter of God saying creation was “good,” now God has seen that it is not good for the human to be alone. After a period of trial-and-error, bringing various animals to the human, God finally decides to make another human literally out of the same stuff as the first human, taking it out of adam’s side. Adam is delighted with the result. “At last!” he exclaims. “Finally, a partner who is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.” Humans from then on would leave their families of origin to find that partner, that other being who is made of the same stuff and complements them, so that their flesh would be reunited, not to be separated again. 

It’s a marvelous dream, isn’t it? The possibility that there is someone out there who is a fitting partner, who, bound in covenantal marriage, becomes one flesh with you, never again to be separated. With this partner you become, like those first humans, a community characterized by empathy, equality, mutuality, and generosity of spirit. And maybe it would have worked… if not for that sneaky snake, the enticing fruit, and the sin and brokenness that would follow. As they bit into that fruit, so was broken the ability to live in this perfect covenant. As they sewed together those fig leaves, their hearts were hardened. Their freewill had led to their downfall. Today, the difficulty and pain of human relationship is all too familiar to us.

Jump ahead to Jesus, and the Pharisees’ trap. Notice they don’t come with goodwill or curiosity. They make divorce into a legal question – “is it lawful?” they ask. But we know today that while the legal issues around divorce are expensive and difficult, it is not the legal aspect that is most painful. Much more than who gets the house or the KitchenAid mixer, the deep and lasting concern for us today is the spiritual and emotional impact of the experience on us and those involved, the brokenness and perhaps shame we feel, the pain we must endure.

            Jesus is also concerned about that spiritual brokenness. Notice how when the Pharisees ask him their legalistic question, Jesus turns it into a spiritual one, referring to the text from Genesis, thus harkening God’s dream for a “fitting” partnership between humans, marked by mutuality, tenderness, devotion, compassion, and care. That is the intention, the hope, for marriage.

            In fact, at its best, marriage can mirror our covenantal relationship with God, which is also marked by those same qualities – tenderness, compassion, devotion and care. That is what happens in our baptism, when God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, brings us into the dance of the Trinity, the relationship of the One-in-Three and Three-in-One, and makes us a part of the one Body of Christ. In our baptism, God makes a covenant with us, just as God has made covenants with God’s people all throughout time. God makes a promise, a covenant, a vow, to be with us always, to the end of the earth, to love us always, to forgive us always. God promises in our baptism to have and to hold us, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. This is God’s solemn vow to us, in baptism.

            So, the gift of the marriage covenant, in this way, is one deeply profound way for us to experience in an earthly relationship the covenant that God has made with us. In marriage, we make a promise to someone, to have them and hold them, for better, for worse, in sickness and health, for rich or poor, until death parts us. And in making that promise to another human, we have the chance to more deeply understand what a Big Deal it is that God makes that promise to us! Because anyone who has been married longer than 2 minutes can tell you that marriage is really hard, that we (and our partner!) are not always loveable, that our hardness of heart is often showing. And yet God loves us anyway. Ideally, our “fitting partner” can say the same, loving us and committing to us even when our hearts are hard, and our words are harsh, when we are sick in body or mind, when we are poor in spirit or money, when we are at our best, or at our worst.

God wants that sort of depth of relationship for us. Covenant is God’s intention for humanity. That is made very clear throughout the witness of the Old Testament, starting with what we heard in Genesis a moment ago. “It is not good for the human to be alone,” God observes, and so God provides a companion, a relationship, for that first human. That is what God wants for us: for us not to be alone, and for us to be in relationship with one another, as well as in relationship with Him.

            Marriage isn’t the only way to experience God’s desire for relationship and community, of course. We may experience it in our families of origin, or with our spouse, children, nieces, or nephews. We may experience it through friendship. We certainly can experience it here in the church. As I said, God assured us of that in our baptism, and we experience it every time we come forward to this table, like grains of wheat once scattered on a hill, now come together to become one bread. No matter how you slice it, our God is one who desires community for us and with us.

            And so, our God is grieved when that community, or relationship, or covenant, is broken – when there is conflict in the church, when families refuse to speak, when marriages fall apart. Just like God is grieved when our relationship with God is broken. And we do have a history of breaking God’s covenant! You can read all about that too throughout the Old Testament, not to mention the entire history of Christianity since that babe was born in Bethlehem. We fallen human beings are not all that great at keeping covenants. Relationships are a great gift, and marriage can be one of the greatest gifts of all, but they can also be terribly hard to maintain. They can turn destructive, even dangerous. Sometimes they do need to end, because that very relationship that would have brought us life is instead a barrier to the life that God desires for us. Covenants do sometimes get broken, and even though it does grieve God, it is also sometimes necessary to bring about future life.

            But here’s the good news: even as we endure the pain that comes with a broken relationship, we can rest secure in knowing that even when our covenants fail, God’s never does. When we fail at our vows, God’s gracious vow to keep us in this holy family called the Church will still stand, will still hold us upright. And while breaking the covenant of marriage, or any covenant, is not God’s hope or intention for us, it is also not unforgivable. Despite whatever brokenness we manage to participate in, God’s grace always manages to wiggle its way into the cracks and work a new thing. Our sin, our shortcomings, our propensity to see other’s faults before recognizing our own… none of that is too big for our God, who promises us in our baptism, and every day since then, and every time we come to this table, that we are beautiful, loved, and forgiven children of God, and that nothing can ever change that. Thanks be to God!

            Let us pray… God of the Covenant, you desire community for us, and your heart is as grieved as ours when our relationships are broken. Grant us endurance to persevere in your vision for humanity, and wisdom to know when a relationship is keeping us from the life you desire for us. Heal and soften our hardened hearts. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.