Ash Wednesday Sermon: Sin and the bathroom sink (Feb. 14, 2024)

Ash Wednesday 2024
Isaiah 58:1-12
Psalm 51

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

I joked on Sunday that I couldn’t think of anything more romantic on this Valentine’s Day than having ash smudged in your face and being reminded of your mortality. Obviously, I was being funny (or trying to be!), but the truth is, while not romantic, per se, I wasn’t kidding about today being all about love – that is, Ash Wednesday, and the season that follows, is all about preparing our hearts and making space to notice and receive God’s immense love for us. 

Allow me to explain. We often think of Lent as being kind of a downer. I mean, it starts with a Kyrie, “Lord, have mercy,” and an extensive time of confession, and then receiving an ashen cross and being told you will, like all things, return to the dust. Lent continues with six weeks of penitence, and deprivation (Lenten fasts), and so many minor key hymns. And it ends with the most somber days of the Church year, as we follow Jesus to the cross, ending Good Friday in complete darkness…. I mean, really – whose idea was it to dwell on sin and sorrow for six and a half long weeks?? Who wants to do that?

Well, let me answer that by asking you another question: we’ve all dealt with problems, struggles, pain, and fear in our lives. Have any of them ever gotten better when you’ve just ignored them? Does simply hoping a problem will disappear make it so?

In my experience as a human, not usually. Generally, we have to face them in some way. Naming things out loud is the first important step in moving past the point of just letting that thing sit heavy in your heart. Sure, naming it can hurt at the time. It can be terrifying to face those hard truths with vulnerability, and sometimes, like a rough chemotherapy treatment, the initial backlash or reaction to this treatment feels worse than the disease itself. “It was better,” we think, “when I was ignoring it! Why did I have to go and stir all this up?” And yet, also like a cancer, letting something just sit there may go all right at first, but eventually it will overtake you.

Ash Wednesday is about naming the thing out loud – in particular, naming the thing or things that are keeping us from living joyfully in God’s promises. I have heard Ash Wednesday called the most honest day of the Church year, when we join together in faithful community, and admit that our relationship with God is not yet where it should or could be. We face head-on the reality that while we long for positive change, we also resist it… but that in the end, a resurrection and rebirth cannot happen unless something first dies. We know that resurrection comes in an exciting way on Easter, and we are given this season of Lent, these 40 days, to discern what needs to be faced head on, and what needs to be cleared away, if we are to make way for that resurrection to happen also in us. 

A couple days ago, Monday, my alarm went off as usual at 6:45am. I stumbled, half-awake, into the bathroom. As I was washing my hands, I noticed, for the thousandth time, that our sink was not draining as it should be. For weeks, the water has reluctantly drained out of this, our primary bathroom sink, leaving things like spit out toothpaste and soap lather to dry along the bowl of the sink. And so, with that Monday morning motivation, I got to it. I pulled out the stopper and you can imagine, it was thick with gunk, a layer of dark grossness made up of… I shudder to think. And then of course there was the hair and gunk inside the drain. Isn’t this just how everyone wants to start the week? But I was in it now. I was committed! I dug in, not thinking about what germs I was getting my hands on, and began slowly but surely pulling weeks (or months!) worth of yuck out of that little drain. Blech.

But then you know what happened? I replaced the stopper, squirted some soap into my hands, lathered, rinsed them off… and the water went right down that nice clean drain. I smiled, feeling suddenly lighter. It was not a pretty job, my friends, not by a longshot, and even now I want to gag a little. But having faced what was blocking the flow, and dealt with it, now everything was flowing freely.

“Wash me through and through from my wickedness,” David writes, after being confronted with one of the worst strings of sinfulness of any character in the Bible. The prophet Nathan has named David’s sin for him (covetousness, adultery, and murder, to name a few) and David has owned this for himself – the first step in restoring his relationship with God. “Cleanse me from my sin,” he prays. “For I know my offenses.” His words are so real, so true to life – this Psalm, which we always read on Ash Wednesday, gives us the words to face our own sin, our own patterns and ways that block our relationship with God, and inhibit our flow.

And, that inhibit our ability to experience joy. That is our theme this Lenten season: “A Seed of Joy.” It seems an unlikely theme for Lent; isn’t joy for Easter? Lent is for all the sadness and sorrow. And yet, if Lent is the season in which we make way for that Easter joy, who is to say that joy can’t show up in glimpses along the way? As God is “creating in us clean hearts,” and “renewing right spirits within us,” we may very well find ourselves “restored to the joy of God’s salvation,” even before we get to the big Easter celebration at the end.

You see, I told you today is all about love! It is about a God who loves us so much that he won’t let us continue along a joyless path, but instead offers us a space to take those first steps of naming our sin and our ways of mortality, even as we trust that God will receive those things, and restore us to the joy of salvation. Who needs a box of chocolates, when we’ve got a promise like that?

So this is my question for you this Lent – and I am actually going to make you think about it right now, and write it down on the index card in your bulletin, so listen carefully. Here’s the question: What must die, or pass away, in order for you to feel truly joyful? What gunk is blocking your flow? What tangle of hair is keeping you stuck? What needs to be removed, to pass away, in order for you to feel truly joyful? Write it down on your index card, with as much vagueness or specificity as is helpful to you. You can sign your name, or not. I’ve asked Jon to play a longer introduction to the hymn to give you time to reflect. Then, as you come forward in a moment to receive ashes, to remember God’s promises to you in life and in death, place your stated gunk, whatever it is, in the font – not in the water itself, but in the spaces along the bowl. My promise to you, if you’ll entrust me with this, is that I will hold those things in prayer for you during this season – that God would wash you through and through, and restore you to the joy of his salvation, so that when Easter comes, we truly will be able to rejoice in the new life promised to us.

Let us pray… Restoring God, there is so much that gets in the way of us feeling the joy of your salvation. Help us to see it, and to name it, so that with your help, we can also be washed clean of it, and step into the joy of your presence. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: Head place and heart place (Feb. 11, 2024)

Transfiguration (B)
February 11, 2024
Mark 9:2-9

INTRODUCTION

Always on this last Sunday before the beginning of Lent we celebrate Transfiguration Sunday, one of the church’s high holy days (you can always tell it’s important when we use white paraments!). It is the culmination of the season of Epiphany, the season of light, and we celebrate by hearing the story of Jesus on a mountaintop, shining brighter than anything we’ve ever seen on earth. It is also a turning point: in Mark’s Gospel, this is halfway through, and where the first half of the Gospel has been really fast-paced, now things will slow way down as we walk down the mountain with the disciples to enter into the end of Jesus’ life and the story of his passion, which for Mark is the main event. 

We also hear another miraculous story today, that is less familiar to us: the story of Elijah being whisked away in a chariot of fire, leaving Elisha to fill his shoes. A bit of backstory on this: Elijah was a prophet who, 7 or 8 year prior, had plucked Elisha out of a field to be his protégé. The two have been inseparable since then, but now, Elijah realizes it is time to go to the next thing. Elisha knows the inevitable is coming, but is not too keen to leave his mentor’s side. They have become so close, he even calls Elijah “father.” Some roaming prophets warn Elisha of what is coming, and he wants to hear none of it. Finally, it happens: a flaming chariot comes down to take Elijah away, and Elisha is left alone with his grief, and Elijah’s mantel (a symbol of the prophetic life). Like the disciples in Mark’s story, he has to pull himself together after this incredible event, and keep on doing God’s work. It’s a stunning and heartbreaking story of the fear and difficulty of change. 

As you listen to these texts today, let them, with all their emotions, just wash over you. They are colorful and dramatic texts, so rather than analyze them, just visualize them, and imagine you were there watching it happen. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Theophanes the Greek and workshop. Transfiguration, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=59721 [retrieved February 12, 2024].

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

This week my Facebook feed suggested a post they thought I’d like. It was a quote from Ernest Hemingway. It said: “It takes two years to learn to speak and sixty to learn to keep quiet.” I felt more than a little targeted! 

Truth is, that was already exactly what I was hearing in our readings today. In the first reading, I chuckled at Elisha’s response to the roaming prophets, as he is anticipating Elijah’s departure. They say, “Hey, guy, did you know your master is departing soon?” And Elisha is like, “I know. Shut it.” The NRSV translation we heard makes it sound so nice with the words, “Keep silent,” but I think we can imagine the tone with which an undoubtedly fearful Elisha spoke, as he anticipates that he’s about to be stepping into some pretty big shoes, and without his mentor around to help. And then in the story of Jesus’ transfiguration, I always love Peter’s take – in response to this incredible, indescribable moment on a mountaintop, rather than just taking it in, Peter does exactly what I would do: he has no idea what to say, but he starts talking anyway. “He did not know what to say,” says Mark, “for they were terrified.” And then that voice from heaven, announcing who Jesus is – God’s son! – and then, a message that seems tailor-made for Peter and all of us who relate to him: “Listen to him!” (Stop talking, Peter, and listen!)

It takes two years to learn to speak, and sixty to learn to keep quiet! 

But in truth, Peter’s response is so human, and so like my own experience of faith. I come from a long line of people who were blessed with both deep faith, and lots of education. My family tree is replete with deep thinkers – theologians, historians, educators, writers, ethicists, philosophers – and so it is no surprise that I have always approached both life and faith head-first. If something is a mystery, if I come across something that I cannot understand, well then that is just a reason to do more reading, more digging, more talking, until it can be understood. 

That’s what I see from Peter in this story. Here, in this moment of Jesus’ transfiguration, and this stunning appearance of Moses and Elijah alongside him and having a chat, he is confronted with something so beyond his understanding, that he scarce can take it in. He cannot merely accept it as the glorious mystery that it is, but must try to make sense of it, sort it out, place it neatly into three dwellings that he can understand. That seems like the right thing to do, and when we are at a loss, sometimes doing or saying something, anything, is the only way we know how to respond. As theologian Karl Barth is credited with observing, “The Word became flesh – and then, through theologians, it became words again.”

More than once, my spiritual director has told me to get out of my head, and to drop into my “heart place.” What does that mean to you? How would you define a “heart place” and how do you let yourself drop in there? I suppose that a heart place is not so focused on trying to understand, as it is about experiencing. It is less Peter, chattering away through this glorious event and trying to say and do the right thing, and more the other disciples present, those who simply sit there in awe at what they are seeing. A heart place allows for tears, like Elisha’s, to flow, if that is what comes, and doesn’t try to shove the emotions away. A heart place doesn’t fill the space with words, but allows for the experience to wash over and permeate. 

When we are in such a heart place, perhaps it is also easier to listen. Without the noise of our thoughts, and our messy minds, perhaps we find ourselves in a place more ready to do as that voice from heaven said: Listen to him. Listen to Jesus. As we all know, when we are busy thinking about the next thing to say or do, we are not really in a place to listen. And yet here it is, clear as day: listen to Jesus.

This week as we descend the mountain of the Transfiguration with Jesus and the disciples and enter into the season of Lent, I will be holding onto this hope and intention: that by getting out of my busy, messy brain and into my “heart place,” I might be able to make space to listen to God. I mentioned in my February newsletter article that one way I plan to do this during Lent is by journaling in the form of writing letters to God. When I journal, especially by hand, I am more able to get out of my own way, and let God’s hope and intention flow through my pen. Our Lenten theme this year is “A Seed of Joy,” and I’m also hopeful that by making space to hear God instead of our own thoughts, that seed of God’s joy might also poke up through thr ground more clearly. How often our thoughts get in the way of seeing God’s glory, God’s joy, even when it is right before us! If we can still that busyness, maybe we stand a chance at experiencing Christ’s joy, even in the midst of the penitential Lenten season. 

As we move toward Ash Wednesday this week, I invite you to enter into your own self-reflection: how is it that you respond to God’s glory? What is it that keeps you from getting out of your own way, and simply experiencing it? How do you filter it out – do you, too, try to figure out it with your head? Or do you find it with your heart, or does your body let you know some other way that God’s glory is at hand? And as we enter into Lent, how will you allow God’s joy to permeate your life and journey? Will you find it with your head, heart, or body? Will you stop talking and start listening (even if you are not yet sixty years old!)? 

I look forward to this journey with you, as we hold onto the hope and memory of experiencing God’s splendor, and as we look toward the ways God offers us joy, and finally as we live into the newness of life that God offers to us on repeat, whether we are listening or not. 

Let us pray… God of glory, your shining presence is all around us, but we are often too stuck in our own messy minds to notice it. Help us to get out of our own way, and see the mysterious and wonderful ways that you show up in our lives. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

See the full service HERE.

Sermon: Take my hand (Feb. 4, 2024)

Epiphany 5B
February 4, 2024
Mark 1:29-39

INTRODUCTION

Jesus’ first impression last week, a dramatic healing of a man possessed by an unclean spirit, set the tone for his ministry, and today we see it continue to play out, as his fame spreads. In today’s reading, Mark offers us “a day in the life of Jesus,” as we watch him go from the synagogue to his friend Simon’s house, where he heals Simon’s mother-in-law. That evening, everyone with any sort of ailment comes to the door, knocking for help. His reputation as one who confronts evil and brings healing is growing. But Mark also feels it important to mention that Jesus takes a rest – he stops and takes a moment for himself to pray, before moving on to keep proclaiming the good news. Good modeling, Jesus! 

Isaiah also speaks to the fatigue that comes from, well, from life! Today’s reading brings us back to the time of the exile, actually just as the Israelites are learning that they will be returning to Jerusalem after being in exile for 70 years. The Israelites are understandably worried about the long trip – a 1000-mile journey, on foot! God assures them that, while it will be long and arduous, they will be able to make it, because God will not let them fall. A wonderful promise as we, too, trudge through our own exhaustion.

In both of these stories, and in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, we will see a theme of God empowering the weak and weary, and that this strengthening is ultimately for a purpose: the next step of healing (in body, mind or spirit) is service. As you listen, consider from what you need healing, and how such healing would equip you for serving God and neighbor. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Christ Healing Peter's Mother-in-Law
WikiCommons

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

Jesus is one busy dude. He has just made his splashy entrance into public ministry by very publicly casting out a demon from a man in the synagogue. Word spread fast, and soon enough, just as soon as the sun set up the sabbath day and people were allowed to work again, Mark tells us that “the whole city” gathered at his door, asking for healing. All evening, Jesus heals everything from indigestion to demon possession. Whew! Then, after a busy night he wakes up early to spend some time in prayer – and even there, his disciples hunt him down to report that “everyone” is searching for him. Hardly a moment to himself, just go-go-go, heal-heal-heal.

But tucked in the midst of all this busyness is this short story of great intimacy. Jesus has just called his first disciples, and they go to one of their homes, the home of Simon, later known as Peter. At once, they tell Jesus that Simon’s mother-in-law was sick. I always thought this was with the hope of Jesus healing her, but at this point, Jesus has not actually performed any healings. He has cast out demons, but she doesn’t have a demon. So, I wonder if they were actually letting him know by way of explanation: you see if would be a major faux pax for Simon’s mother-in-law to receive a guest, and not to offer him hospitality. So rather than saying, “She’s sick, Jesus, can you heal her?” it was more, “You can come to our house, but you should know, my mother-in-law is quite ill with a fever. She will not be able to serve us. But please don’t take offense.” You see, in the 1st century, the woman’s place was in the kitchen; indeed, her role in running the household and serving guests was an essential and valued part of how society functioned. For Simon’s mother-in-law, not being able to serve Jesus and his friends was embarrassing and degrading of her very personhood and agency.

So already, this is intimate: we’re in a personal home, and the elder of this home is vulnerable, both physically and socially. We would do well to pause here and appreciate the intimacy of this moment. As a pastor, I am often invited into people’s vulnerability – messy homes, broken relationships, hospital rooms where people are at their very weakest with hair mussed and gowns barely covering their broken bodies – and each one of these moments is immensely sacred, precisely because of that intimacy. 

But then in our story, this intimacy goes even deeper. Jesus comes right up to the woman, and takes her hand. I’m not sure I really appreciated how beautiful this moment is until we were unable to touch each other’s hands during the pandemic. I personally had no lack of touch during that time – I was home with a 3- and 4-year-old, after all – but I know for many who live alone, they had no physical contact with another human for months. And yet touch is such an important part of human connection! One of my favorite things to do in pastoral settings, after I have met or visited with someone, is hold their hand for a prayer. Prayer is already a powerful connection, but when you add a hand hold, you can experience one another’s energy and spirit even more profoundly. I have often seen people emerge from such a moment in tears – sometimes the tears are my own!

And so here, where Jesus takes the hand of this ailing, aging woman – it makes me catch my breath a bit! Suddenly, they become connected, in body and spirit. This woman, who was presently without a purpose, being unable to fulfill her duties of care for her home or offering hospitality, is important enough, valuable enough, for Jesus to stop in the middle of his busy day and hold her hand for a moment. She had been disconnected, even close to dying, and now, she is once again connected.

And then, Mark tells us, Jesus raises her up, and the fever leaves her. Worth noting is that this word, “raise up,” is the same word used for Jesus’ own resurrection. Mark is intentional about details like this – we are meant to make the connection to Jesus’ resurrection. Jesus raises her up – from sickness into health, from brokenness into wholeness, from near-death into life, even into new life. By their interpersonal connection, she has been given a new life.

Mark tells us then that “she began to serve them.” I have often heard feminist grumbling about this verse – “sheesh, she was near death, and now already she’s making them sandwiches?” Yes, on first impression this may rub us the wrong way, but this is not at all meant to evoke fist-shaking at the patriarchy. Remember I mentioned before, that in this society, a woman’s place was in the kitchen. She cared for the home and the family. In this role, she was an essential member of society, and she no doubt took pride in her work and her ability to extend hospitality to someone like Jesus. Without that ability, however, she was without purpose, without value. Now, Jesus has not only restored her to health, but has restored her to purpose. She is whole, and able to serve. (The word used here for “serve,” by the way, is the word from which we get the word “deacon,” so this is very much a sort of faithful service she is doing, and not a begrudging fetching of sandwiches for the men in the room.) 

This exchange is not unlike how God’ grace works in our own lives. We too are lifted out of our brokenness, forgiven for our sins. We are granted grace upon grace, brought from the death of sin, into new life in Christ, and promised everlasting life. We are healed. And our faithful response to this gift and promise is to serve. Martin Luther writes that we are freed from sin, even as we are freed for service, such that when we truly receive God’s grace and promise, good works spring spontaneously from us, whether that is distributing food at a pantry, learning about an issue like housing justice, praying for the health and wellbeing of your community, or simply treating your neighbor with lovingkindness. We’re freed from sin, and freed for service.

I see this woman, Simon’s mother-in-law, as the very embodiment of this concept. Freed from the captivity of disease, she is freed for service of those gathered. She is given a purpose once again, and with it, she becomes whole. She is connected to Christ, and to her community, now able to contribute and connect with others. It is a beautiful moment!

And so what about us, my friends? What is it that holds you in captivity, that keeps you from your purpose as a claimed and called child of God? From what do you need to be freed? Is it fatigue from the difficulties of life? Is it the weight of grief, or the limitations brought by disease of body or mind? Is it the burden of a grudge, or a pain you cannot find your way through? Is it shame, or a lack of purpose or direction? 

Whatever it is, friends, hear this good news: Jesus reaches his hand out also to you. He reaches out to you with the promise of intimacy, and connection, the sort of connection that can heal the soul. We offer to him our vulnerable hearts, and the pain they hold, and Jesus sees us, all of us, and reaches out to us – pulling us from death into life, from captivity into freedom, so that we can once again find the wholeness and purpose that God desires for us. We are freed to serve in newness of life. 

Let us pray… Precious Lord, take our hand. When we are tired, weak, and worn, when the storms are all around, reach out your hand to us, so that we may stand, and step into the new life that you make possible. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service can be viewed HERE. (Actually it starts at the Psalm - if you want to see the beginning, find it from there.)

Sermon: Faithful relationships with food, friends, and others (January 28, 2024)

 Epiphany 4B
January 28, 2024
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
Mark 1:21-28

INTRODUCTION

The theme of today is authority: who has it, and who does not. Moses tells the Israelites about how prophets speak with God’s authority. Jesus’ encounter in the synagogue impresses everyone because of the authority with which he teaches and speaks. And Paul explains that while we may think knowledge gives us authority and power, in fact acting lovingly and for the benefit of our neighbor, is all the authority we need.

Authority is something we understand, but I admit, the texts today are a bit… archaic. They might be a bit difficult to follow or relate to (at least they are for me!). So let me see if I can help, with some things to listen for in each reading:

Deuteronomy speaks to the inevitability that Moses will not always be with the Israelites as their leader and prophet. Yet here God promises that they will not be left to flounder without faithful leadership. God will (and always is) lifting up new leaders, new prophets, to lead God’s people.

Corinthians speaks to the practice of sacrificing food to idols. In the largely pagan city of Corinth, this was a typical practice, but it surely isn’t for us! Rather than getting stuck on that detail, focus on the underlying issue: the practices we engage in that get in the way of our care for one another. More on this in my sermon.

And finally Mark, a story about exorcising demons – which I assume few if any of us have ever witnessed. But we do have experience being possessed by things: fears, unwelcome thoughts, unhealthy patterns, a need to work… So as you listen to this one, recognize how Jesus is willing to confront whatever it is that possesses us, or takes our attention from God. Ok, let’s listen.

[READ]

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

If you’re happy and you know it, eat a snack! If you’re sad and you know it, eat a snack. If you’re sad because you’re angry, feeling down or generally bad, if you’re sad… eat a snack. 

If you’re bored and you know it, eat a snack. If you’re lonely and you know it, eat a snack. If you’re sleepy and you know it, if you’re guilty and you know it, if you’re stressed… eat a snack. 

If you’re human and you know it, then your face will surely show it. If you’re human, eat your feelings. Eat a snack.

Anyone remember this commercial? It’s a Weight Watchers commercial from about a decade ago. I think it ends with something like, “We’ll help you with the hard stuff.” It’s sort of a cute approach, using a child’s song, and it makes me chuckle, but I also find it deeply unsettling. It is a pretty accurate assessment of the relationship so many of us have with food. Food is this wonderful gift from God that serves to nourish our bodies and provide what we need to be strong and healthy – and yet for many of us, it is something with which we have a complicated relationship: we eat when we’re stressed, when we’re bored, when we’re tired, when we’re sad… just like the song on the commercial says. What should be a gracious gift from God becomes for many of us an enemy to combat, a temptation to overcome, a continuing foe, which stalks us and grips us every moment of the day. 

And that is just a reflection on our personal relationship with food – it says nothing of our global relationship, and the broader impact of our food choices. In the Western world, many of us don’t know what all goes into our food’s growth, harvest, and production – including how many pesticides are used, how much water, how farm workers are treated, and in the case of livestock, how the animals are treated, what drugs they are given, how much land is used, how much toxic gas they emit into the atmosphere, how much oil is used to get all this food to our communities from far away… And that’s to say nothing of the highly processed food we love so much, with all its chemicals, sugars, and preservatives to give it lasting shelf life and appealing taste. The decisions we make about what food we buy and eat affects a long line of people, not to mention animals and the environment. 

Yes, the human relationship with food is complicated, whether you are thinking about it in terms of you and the delicious looking pastry in front of you, or in terms of the larger scheme of food production. What should be a gracious gift from God and a supplier of nourishment for our bodies becomes one of our biggest challenges.

Apparently human relationship with food has long been a challenge, albeit in different ways. We see it in our passage today from 1 Corinthians. This is one of those passages that might at first seem completely inapplicable to our 21st century context, as it begins, “Now concerning food sacrificed to idols...” Sacrificing food to idols is not something most Christians today think about ever, so we may be tempted to disregard the rest of the passage. But in fact, this passage has much to say to us regarding our own relationship with food, and our relationship with the other myriad things that demand our attention. 

The original question, about eating food sacrificed to idols, likely arose out of a dispute between members of the very diverse Corinthian church, who came from varied backgrounds. When you bring such varied backgrounds together, you are bound to get a clash. But Paul’s approach to the dispute is not only about the particulars of that question, but more broadly how to live as a Christian, a Christ-follower, in a world that often makes this a challenge. Corinth, you see, was a largely pagan city, and so being a Christ-follower there was particularly challenging: how do we follow Christ when there are so many cultural norms all around us that go against what Christ calls us to do? 

Now that question, about how to live as a Christian life in the midst of so many contrary cultural norms, is something we can relate to. Because there are lots of cultural norms that are, or can become, contrary to living a Christian life: a need always to have more, or better; a devotion to a political leader who acts in a way or carries our policies that harm God’s children; working so hard and so much that we have no energy left for spending time cultivating our relationship with God; pursuing our own success and the American dream, even if it means others suffer for it. Even things that seem good – like sports or other hobbies, school or work – can run the danger of taking our time and devotion away from God and our relationships with others, and then those relationships suffer.

In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul makes clear that our ultimate concern is not knowing intellectually what is wrong and what is right, but rather, having awareness of how our actions and behaviors affect our relationships – with God and with our neighbor. Our behaviors are to be guided not by knowledge, which “puffs up,” but by the love of God, which “builds up,” and how that love is expressed in community. 

For example, does eating tomatoes that I know were unethically harvested reflect love for my neighbors working in the field? Does our alcohol consumption negatively affect familial relationships? Does allowing fear to guide our actions and behaviors allow us to treat people lovingly? Paul says that the question that should be our guiding light in deciding how to act is this: Do the things that possess us, toward which we put our emotional and physical energy, enable or prevent us from living in love of God and neighbor? 

That question puts things in perspective, and personally, I feel very convicted by it! It drives me to our Gospel text, where I find some hope for actually overcoming my various possessions. This encounter that Jesus has with the demon-possessed man is, in Mark’s Gospel, his first public act of ministry. In other words, this is significant – our first impression of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. This action sets the tone and frames Jesus’ entire ministry. What it says to us is that Jesus is someone who is here to confront our demons and possessions with authority. He is someone who not only walks with us, but who stands up for us, who says to the voices of the world that would challenge our efforts to live faithful lives, “Be silent, and come out of them!” And while it may be a rough exit (the man in the story convulses and shouts loudly), we are left in a state ready to seek healing and new life.

We will not always be successful in navigating the complicated relationships we have – whether they are with food or other substances, with our work, with past failures or fears, or even with each other. But, we can always be certain that Jesus came to confront our challenges with us, to help us face the temptations of the world, and to offer to us not death and failure, but life and freedom.

Let us pray… Ever-living God, we live in a world full of things that demand our attention and try to take our focus away from you. Help us to trust in your Son, who confronts our possessions, and promises to bring us into everlasting life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Service through the sermon can be viewed HERE. (It'll be at the end. There was an issue, and the second half is a different link.)

Sermon: Dos and Don'ts on Responding to God (January 21, 2024)

Epiphany 3B
January 21, 2024
Jonah 3:1-6, 10

INTRODUCTION 

Today we continue hearing some call stories: Mark’s version of the calling of the first disciples, and a part of the Jonah story. A note on Jonah: it starts off saying, “The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time.” You probably remember what happened the first time? God called and Jonah fled, heading the exact opposite direction toward Tarshish and had a bit of a mishap with a large fish: namely, he got swallowed, then prayed in the fish’s belly for three days, and has just now been spewed up on the beach. Now, reeking of fish gut, he heads off to carry out his duty, prophesying to Nineveh. Nineveh, you should know, is the capital of Assyria, Israel’s principal enemy du jour. They are bad news bears, so this is no benign request. I probably would have run in the opposite direction, too. Yet Jonah, even smelling as he does, preaches a short but effective sermon, and Nineveh is convinced, and everyone – people and animals alike – put on sackcloth, the traditional garment of repentance, and God proves the breadth of his mercy. 

Speaking of smelling like fish – God must have a thing for fish gut smell, because Jesus also calls fisherman as his first disciples in today’s story from Mark. (Not for nothing, a fish, not a cross, was the earliest symbol of Christianity, so, it’s a thing.) What you should be aware of, hearing this story, is that it is about ordinary people, in an ordinary and unimportant place, doing ordinary jobs, yet called to a mission that would change the world. Pretty cool how God does that.

As you listen, keep in mind how God uses ordinary, flawed humans (and fish!) to bring about his purpose – so what is to keep God from using any of us? Let’s listen… 

[READ]

Jonah, by John August Swanson, https://www.johnaugustswanson.com/

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

I am sometimes asked what my favorite book of the Bible is. And you know what? I think it might be Jonah. I love this story. It just so happens that it was also our reading for our Bible Huddles this week – not just this snippet, but the whole thing – so I had a chance to really dive deep into it (pun intended). I’m guessing many of you are familiar with the whale part (correction: it was a big fish, not a whale), and now you’ve heard the prophecy part, but allow me to fill you in on the rest of the story:

Right off the bat, the word of the Lord comes to Jonah. “Arise!” God says, “and go to Ninevah, that great city [great here meaning large, not good], and cry out against it, for their wickedness has come before me.” Nineveh is the capital of their foremost enemy, Assyria. Prophets are seldom received warmly, but this is a particularly challenging situation. So, like any rational person, Jonah says, “No thanks!” and just for good measure, he heads to the nearest port and hops a boat heading to Tarshish, the exact opposite direction from Nineveh. This is the denying-est of all denials of a call from God.

In response, God decides to have some fun with Jonah. He sends a storm upon his boat. The sailors desperately start tossing cargo off the boat in hopes of saving themselves. They cast lots and determine that Jonah is the cause of this calamity, and ask him, “What gives, dude? What did you do?” Jonah may be a coward, but he’s no fool. He says, “Uh, yeah, about that… I think you should probably toss me overboard!” Which they do, rather reluctantly, and the sea immediately stops raging.

Meanwhile, God provides a big fish to swallow Jonah up and keep him safe, and he spends the next three days and three nights in its belly, praying to God for deliverance. God and the fish have a chat, and the fish subsequently spews Jonah out on the beach, granting Jonah a sort of second birth, a new life, another chance. 

This is where today’s reading picks up. God tells Jonah again to go talk to the Ninevites. This time Jonah figures he’d better do it, but he still refuses to give it his all. He walks 1/3 of the way into the city, stops in a random spot, and to whomever happens to be nearby, he offers the shortest sermon ever preached: “Forty more days and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” If there was a bare minimum for giving a prophecy, this is it. Then he leaves and heads up to a nearby hill to watch and see how this will play out.

Shockingly, the people believe Jonah! They all put on sackcloth, and repent. Word of this strange man dripping with fish guts gets to the king of Nineveh, and he also declares a city-wide moment of repentance: everyone shall fast, and wear sackcloth – even the animals! “Who knows?” he says. “Maybe God will have mercy on us!”

Then the big plot twist: God does change his mind! The Ninevites receive mercy and remain safe. And Jonah? Is not impressed. “See, God?” he whines. “I just knew you would do this. I knew you would be all merciful and compassionate and not punish them like they deserve.” This, he says, is why he had fled to Tarshish. “What’s the point, anyway?” he says. God plays with him a little more, first giving Jonah a bush to shade him, then destroying it by means of a worm, and when Jonah gets angsty about that (“Angry enough to die!” he declares), God says, “You’re angry about the bush? You had it for just one day! Shouldn’t I then be concerned about this huge city full of people and animals?”

The story ends there, with a question. I love that, because it reminds us of how much we don’t know, and invites so many of our own questions. Here are some that come to mind:

• How far does God’s mercy extend – even to our enemies? How do I feel about God being merciful on people I think don’t deserve it?

• When has God called me to something I didn’t want to do, and I resisted by running in the opposite direction, either figuratively or literally?

• When has following my own whims instead of God’s landed me in a metaphorical fish’s belly? When have I then been spewed out, given another chance and a rebirth?

One of the brilliant things about Jonah’s story is that it is so colorful, fun, and funny, but also so non-specific as to be universal – it is applicable to so many different situations we face, whether we are grappling with how to deal with evil, or discerning (and questioning) God’s call to us. 

Contrast this fish story with the other fish story we hear today: Jesus calling the first disciples. Here, Jesus comes to a bunch of nobodies, living in a backwater town, and issues a strange call: “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And without knowing more than that, Mark tells us that these guys immediately dropped their nets and followed Jesus. Their faithfulness and trust is inspiring!... but difficult to relate to. Jonah’s story resonates much more with my own experience. You know what I said the first time someone suggested I go to seminary. “Hah! No.” And when someone asked if I would be interested in leaving a call a loved to interview at this great church in Pittsford? “No.” Obviously in both cases, I came around, and am so happy I did (unlike Jonah, I guess!). 

I suspect my experience isn’t uncommon! God does often call us to things that scare us, or that we don’t think we can do, or don’t think we can do well enough. And so, we may ignore the call, or, like Jonah, we may run away from it, or do it half-heartedly, or reluctantly, or resentfully. But God has a way, doesn’t he, of getting us back on track, like he does with Jonah?

Today after worship is our annual meeting. As usual, we will hear about some of the wonderful ways St. Paul’s has already answered God’s call over the past year. And we truly have been faithful and generous – there is much to celebrate! We will also have a chance to dream and explore about some of the new ways God is calling us. As we work through all of this together as a congregation, today but even more so in the following months, I suspect there will be some “fishers of people” moments, when we all immediately and collectively drop our nets and follow Jesus into what is unknown but exciting and transformational. And there will likely also be some Jonah moments, when we are reluctant, cautious, unsure, doubtful, skeptical. I hope we don’t end up in any fish bellies, but if we do, I trust we will repent as necessary, pray heartily as Jonah did, and ultimately be delivered to the right shore, even if we come out a little smelly!

Whatever happens in the next year of our ministry together, one thing I am sure of: that just like both Jonah and the disciples, God will be with us each step of the way, calling us toward new life, and promising us mercy and compassion. Because that is what God does for all of God’s beloved people – whether Ninevite, reluctant prophet, or fisher of people.

Let us pray… God of the sea, God of the fish, God of all people: sometimes you call us to things that excite, and sometimes to things that terrify us. Whatever the call, grant us open ears and hearts, ready to hear that call and respond faithfully. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Watch the whole service HERE.

Sermon: Why listening is hard (January 14, 2024)

Epiphany 2B
January 14, 2023
1 Samuel 3:1-20

INTRODUCTION

We are now through the festival season for a while, and find ourselves in the Epiphany season. During this season, we hear stories about the life of discipleship, beginning, today, with some call stories. First, we’ll hear the story of the boy Samuel’s call, the beloved story of God calling to him in the night, and Samuel having the courage to hear that call. (Though the message God gives him is not so sweet!) The story encourages us to listen for that voice of God, calling us into new ways of being God’s people. The Psalm assures us of God’s deep knowledge of us, even before we were born. That will echo a part in our Gospel reading, where Jesus seems to know all about Nathanael before they have ever met (and Nathanael is duly impressed!). This is John’s version of the calling of the first disciples. Next week, we will hear Mark’s version of the same story.

I want to give a little more context for the first reading, which is mostly what I’m preaching on. The book of Samuel comes right after the period of the judges, which was a dark and lawless time for Israel. We get that impression at the beginning of the text, when it says the word of the Lord was rare – the people feel disconnected from God. Even the priest Eli’s physical vision is suffering, as a sort of metaphor for Israel as a whole. Samuel is a boy in this story (so kids – pay attention! This is one of the times in the Bible where God uses a kid to bring about God’s purpose – where a kid is the hero!). Samuel’s mother, Hannah, gave him to God’s service, to be raised in the temple by the priest, Eli. At the start of the story, Samuel is sleeping in the part of the temple near what is called the ark, where he was closest to God, when he suddenly hears a voice he had not previously known.

As you listen to these texts, notice how much imagery of seeing and hearing there is. All the texts invite us to be more fully aware of the many ways God comes to us in the world. So notice them here, and then notice them all week long! Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

In the book, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Czech author Milan Kundera, he tells a story about a woman who works in a restaurant, and although the restaurant wasn’t very popular, people always came so that they could talk to this woman. She always listened and said, “Uh-huh,” in the right places. Usually when people talk, Kundera wrote, they wait for a chance to jump in and say, “Yeah, for me too, except for me…” and then talk about themselves. But this woman wasn’t like that. She never said, “Yeah that’s like me.” She always just listened.

Such a small thing, but also remarkable, because people like this, who always listen and say “uh-huh” in the right places, can be hard to come by! While there are some good listeners out there, many people, myself included, find it really hard simply to listen.

That’s why I am always so taken with this line from our reading from Samuel: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” Because if it is hard to listen to other people, when their voices are audible and right there in front of us, it is even harder to listen to God! We don’t very often hear God’s voice speaking plainly to us like it does to Samuel in the temple, audibly calling our name. Sometimes it feels like it’s described earlier: “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” We think, “If God could just be more obvious about it, like in these Bible stories, then maybe I could know without a doubt what God is saying to me!”

And yet, I don’t think the word of the Lord is rare in these days. I think what is more rare, is our ability to hear it, discern it, and to heed it. I can think of a few reasons for this.

First, we do a lot of talking. If your prayer life is anything like mine, it includes a lot of requests, maybe some thanksgivings and praise, but not a ton of space just to listen. Or, that space we leave is at the end of the day when we’re in bed and too tired to stay awake and hear the response. And yet, think of the close human relationships you have – your spouse, or your best friend. Does one person do all of the talking? Do you talk to them at the end of the day and then fall asleep before they have a chance to tell you about their day? No, chances are that, even if one person does more of the talking, there is space for each of you to talk, because that is what makes it a two-way relationship. But we often struggle to leave that space for God to talk to us. Our brains are too busy to settle down and just listen to what God has to say. That’s why Samuel’s statement is remarkable: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening – not giving you a list of needs or wants, not even asking you to answer my question… just listening, to whatever you are saying to me today.”

Another reason it is hard to listen – and this goes for conversations with God and with fellow humans – is that we only listen for what we expect to hear, not for what may contradict our expectations. We see this in our Gospel reading, with Nathaniel. Philip finds him and says, “We’ve found the guy Moses and the prophets were talking about! It’s Jesus of Nazareth!” And what does Nathaniel famously say? “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” He can’t hear or receive this good news – that the person they have been waiting for, for centuries, is finally here – because his expectation is that nothing good can come from Nazareth. 

Boy, do I feel convicted by this exchange! Especially in this highly divisive political climate, we cannot fathom that anything the other side has to say can be of any value! Even in family conflict, we go into tense conversations already knowing for sure what the other person will say, how they are, and so guess what? That is exactly what they say and how they are! Anyone who has done any sort of couples or family counseling or mediation has come across the tool in which you echo back. One person says something, and the other says, “What I hear you saying is…” and the first person says yes that’s what I said, or no, it wasn’t, let me try again. I have done this, and when the person I was talking to said no, I had not heard correctly, I was shocked. I was so sure I had heard correctly! It’s a real reality check about how easy it is to hear just exactly what you expect to hear, regardless of what the other person actually says.

And I reckon I, and likely all of us, do this just as readily with God. We go into our prayers or scripture reading of whatever we’re doing to hear God’s voice, thinking that we are seeking guidance, but what we really want is affirmation. We want a sign from God that we are in the right, doing the right thing, acting the right way. Or, we know what we want to do (often because it is easiest, or the path of least resistance, or more fun, or it requires us to change the least), and so we look for signs that affirm our chosen route and say, “That’s God’s voice! I’m doing the right thing!” In Nathaniel’s case, he at least had the humility to “come and see” with Philip, and then to recognize that he was indeed wrong, that something good could come out of Nazareth. Are we willing to “come and see” if God might be saying something to us that does not simply affirm what we had already decided? Are we willing to listen for that?

And that brings me to the third reason we may struggle to listen to God’s voice. I think sometimes we don’t listen to God’s voice, or we block it out or reinterpret it, because we are afraid we will hear something we don’t want to hear. Just look at the message Samuel receives! God tells Samuel that Eli’s house – his sons, whom he raised in the Temple to succeed him as priests – are in no place to do this holy work. In fact, God says, no amount of sacrifice or offering will make up for their egregious sins. Ouch, that’s hard to hear. How stunning that young Samuel is willing to tell Eli, who has raised him, this difficult news. Even more stunning is that Eli graciously receives it. He truly listens to the Lord, though it is definitely not something he wants to hear. If it were me, I might say, “Oh, that can’t be right,” and go ahead with my previous plans. But Eli shows us how to have the humility to hear and to heed God’s voice.

That is really difficult. And yet, we also know that if we truly trust God, we also trust that God will not lead us astray. If we believe, as the Psalmist declares today, that God knows us through and through, and has since before we were born and will well after we die, then we also believe that God knows what is best for us. If we believe that ours is a God of life, and of love, then the direction God’s voice will ultimately lead us is toward life and love, even if it might take a little while and a few trials before we see that. 

Are we ready, then, to listen, truly listen, for God’s voice – as individuals, as a congregation, and as a part of the whole Church on earth? If we listen, then where might it lead us?

Let us pray… Lord, we sometimes struggle to know your voice when we hear it. We prefer to listen to our own voice. Give us the eagerness of Samuel, and the humility of Eli, to hear what you are saying. Speak, Lord, for your servants are listening…

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Full service can be viewed HERE. 

Sermon: A life-changing baptism (January 7, 2023)

Baptism of our Lord (B)

January 7, 2024

Mark 1:4-11

INTRODUCTION

    Today we hear the story of Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan. We’ll hear about the heavens tearing open, and the Holy Spirit coming down on him like a dove, and that voice from heaven calling Jesus the beloved son with whom God is pleased. Mark, who is known for his quick-and-dirty writing style, gets us the whole story in just one sentence, but there is a lot packed into that sentence! It calls back to other important moments in scripture – including today’s reading from Genesis, the beginning of the creation story, in which we’ll hear about that same Spirit, hovering over the waters just before God brought all creation into being. When that Spirit returns in Jesus’ baptism, it gives us the sense that baptism offers a new creation. Paul will also bring up that same Spirit in the story from Acts, asking the Ephesians if they have been baptized in the Holy Spirit. This Spirit is something pretty special!

    It's special for us, too, in baptism and in faith. And even though we are hearing the story of Jesus’ baptism today, there is so much of it that happens also in our baptism: we, too, receive the power of the Spirit. We, too, are called beloved children of God. So as you listen, hear these promises spoken also to you, the baptized children of God. And then later, when we have the chance to witness the baptism of Naomi, hear them again as if they are spoken also to you! Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Naomi is already getting a new perspective on life!

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

I think I could really learn something from Mark as a writer. I’m the type of writer who uses too many words to get my point across, and then when I go back to edit, instead of taking out superfluous words, I add more! 

Mark does not have this problem. Mark has the gift of packing a punch in just a few words, managing to paint a scene and get across a point, as well as including just enough details that our minds are drawn to other stories that do some of the work of fleshing out his purpose. Really, Mark’s Gospel is pretty brilliant.

Mark’s skill is quite apparent in the story of Jesus’ baptism. So today I want to highlight a couple of his details, and what they can illuminate for us not only regarding Jesus’ baptism, but also our own.

The first is the location: the wilderness. Now the other Gospels refer to the wilderness, and I guess we assume that John is doing his work there, but Mark makes it abundantly clear: this key moment that begins Mark’s Gospel and Jesus’ ministry is. In. the. Wilderness. 

So why does that matter? 

There are a few key stories in Israel’s history that are really important to know, because they pop up again and again as the story of Israel and ultimately that of Christianity unfolds. One of those stories is the early Israelites’ time wandering in the wilderness. Remember the lead up? They were slaves in Egypt for several hundred years, then Moses led them out of slavery and into freedom, through the Red Sea in a mass Exodus, planning to then lead them to the Promised Land. But, due to their disobedience, they ended up wandering through the wilderness for 40 years. This time was marked by hunger and thirst, danger and fear. But it was also a time of renewal, of discovery, of close encounters of the God kind. In the end, the wilderness was a time in which the Israelites learned to trust God, to depend on God for all their needs. 

Throughout scripture we see references to “the wilderness,” and each time that location shows up, our minds are drawn back to those same themes: hunger, fear, lostness, limbo, renewal, and the need for complete trust in God. And here, Mark makes such a connection in the story of Jesus’ baptism. So, for Mark, baptism, too, must be an experience that we approach with a wilderness posture: ready to trust utterly in God’s power, to bring about new life and renewal.

Today we will have the delight of witnessing baby Naomi’s baptism. I am often asked why Lutherans baptize babies instead of adults, as seems to be the norm in the Bible. There is a benefit to both practices, but here is what I love about baptizing infants: we believe that baptism is about not what we can do for God, or the strength of our faith, but rather about what God, as the actor, does for us, and about God’s faithfulness. It is a moment in which we acknowledge our utter dependance on God’s promise and grace. And who is in a better position to do that than a helpless a baby? In my experience as an adult, we tend to overthink things, and to rely on our own abilities, right? Adults have a hard time taking on that wilderness posture of trust and dependence on God, until we are having a wilderness experience – a period of lack, and fear, and desperation. But babies come by that naturally. They know better than anyone what it is to be completely dependent on a loving parent to provide all their needs.

And so, when Mark starts his story about Jesus in the wilderness, and drawing all those people out into the wilderness to be baptized, we come to understand that we, too, are meant to come to God in a posture of trust. We leave behind the myth of self-sufficiency, the possibility that we can save ourselves if we just work hard enough at it, and instead admit our reliance on God’s goodness and grace. We come to meet God in the wilderness. …

The second detail I want to point out is what happens to the sky at the moment of Jesus’ baptism: the heavens are torn apart, ripped open, or my favorite translation, “rent asunder.” This detail is unique to Mark’s telling. Luke and Matthew both offer a much gentler “the heavens were opened,” but Mark has no interest in gentleness. For Mark, this moment is dramatic, loud and drastic. Things that are meant merely to be opened, like a door or a box, can generally be closed again. But not things that are torn. Once torn, that is it. It’s open for good.

I take two points from Mark’s inclusion of this detail, one about God and one about baptism. The first, about God, is that in Christ, God has entered the world in a dramatic and drastic fashion, and there is no going back. God is here for good, walking and moving and working among us, no take-backs. Luke gave us an angel choir to hit home the magnitude of the incarnation, and Matthew gave us magi from the East and a giant star. Mark gives us a sky literally torn apart to make way for the incarnate Son of God. This, he says, changes… everything.

And that’s actually the point I want to make about baptism, too: when we are baptized, it is not some docile ritual that we forget about tomorrow. It, too, is dramatic and life-changing. We may not see the ceiling fly off and the sky literally rent asunder today, when Naomi is baptized, but the moment is no less life-altering. Here God will claim her as his own. Here God will make to her eternal promises – of love and belonging, of forgiveness of sins, and life everlasting. Here God will assure her that nothing she does can ever take her from God’s loving embrace, no sin nor fear nor disbelief. These are the promises that will be made to Naomi today, and that were made to all of us in our own baptism. And they change everything.

But to take those promises and go home and never think of it again would be missing the point. For with those promises comes also a call: to go out into the world, as the baptismal liturgy says, “to trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace.” This is what we are enabled to do, precisely because of those incredible promises God makes to us, when he tears apart the heavens and comes down – not gently, but with force and urgency, to empower us with the Holy Spirit. Jesus’ baptism in the wilderness reminds us that because we rely on God’s power and not our own, it is possible to be a part of God’s world-changing and life-giving plan for all creation. May we all live into this call!

Let us pray… Empowering Spirit, you come to us with urgency, assuring us that with you in the world, nothing can ever be the same again. Encourage us to live into this call, to be a part of your life-changing plan. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service can be viewed HERE.