Sermon: Confronting death leads to life (Ash Wednesday)

Ash Wednesday Sermon
March 5, 2025

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

Two days ago, I officiated for a funeral of a community member. Pat, the deceased, who died last week of metastatic breast cancer, was for many years an administrator at the Breast Cancer Coalition of Rochester (BCCR), and she ran a lot of the programs, some of which I personally benefitted from when I was going through cancer treatments (which is why I was asked to officiate). One of the speakers at the funeral was former director of BCCR, Holly Anderson. Among the programs she mentioned that Pat was involved in was something called Death Café. Death Cafés happen all over the world, and their goal is to be a place where people can come and eat cake and drink tea, and just talk openly about Death. At a place like BCCR that works with people with cancer, some of whom have terminal disease, this feels especially important, and indeed these programs are some of the best-attended of all of BCCR’s offerings. But of course, cancer or not, we are all dying. It is perhaps the one thing all humans share: we will all die someday. 

One thing Holly said at the funeral about this program that stuck with me was that our inclination, when someone is fighting a deadly disease, even one they know will eventually kill them, is to say, “Don’t give up! Keep fighting! You’ve got this!” But she said, “Don’t do this. It puts so much pressure on a person. People need to be able to find peace with their reality, their mortality, not fight against it.” Once you can willingly confront the conversation, she told me later, and find that peace, the conversation can turn instead to how we live, with the time we have. 

It occurred to me that this is exactly what Ash Wednesday does for us, too. It compels us to face liturgically two stark realities we all share: that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves, and that we will all die someday. On this day, we get together, face the fact of sin, and rub ashes on our faces with the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” 

But also, and this is important, when we do this as a church community, we remember that, scary though the inevitability of sin and death may be, we are not alone in that reality. We have God by our side, as well as this community of believers.

That is why we journey through these 40 days communally, worshiping and praying and studying together. We face our mortality together. As Kate Bowler says, who, along with her team, wrote our devotional this year, “For 40 days we stop pretending things will suddenly get better and face the truth: life is fragile, and so are we…. To be human is to carry the weight of our own mortality….” Or, as she quips in the first line of our devotional, “There is no cure for being human.”

So what can we do about this? It can feel very helpless, which I suspect is why people don’t want to talk about it. Who wants to confront something that feels so mysterious and unknown, and over which we have no control? Can’t we just ignore those long-term realities and focus on any number of things that bring us short-term satisfaction? 

Well, I suppose there is some both-and here. I recently read, for example, that one important way to resist an authoritarian (whether on a large political scale, or in a personal relationship) is to maintain a personal sense of joy. As long as they can’t take your joy, they can’t have control over you. So, seeking out joy and dwelling there is definitely something to pursue, perhaps especially when sin and death are knocking at your door! So Lent doesn’t have to be depressing – we can feel joy, too.

But we must, at some point, face the reality of sin and death, and Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent give us a space to do this. It starts at this stark midweek service, in which we face head-on our mortality, remembering that we are dust, and that we shall return to dust. In confronting the truth of sin and the grave, we find ourselves laid bare, and thus able to face and address the most important questions in our lives – and this in turn gives us hope, a new perspective, a way forward. This reminder of the inevitable will, in turn, teach us how to live. 

So, how do we live? What do we do with the time between now and then, the time when we still are living in our human condition, in which things and systems and hearts break, and life feels very much out of our control?

This is where the disciplines of Lent are a useful tool. Jesus talks about them in our Gospel reading for Ash Wednesday; they are almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. 

Why these practices? And how do they help us face our human frailty? 

Generally speaking, the simple answer is that they provide intention, direction, a framework – all very useful in the midst of things we cannot understand! Lent, when we enter into it wholeheartedly, can be an opportunity to reorient our hearts toward God, and from that relationship comes joy and a fuller life. These disciplines offer some concrete ways to pursue that.

Take almsgiving, that is, giving things away to the poor: what are the spiritual benefits? When we let go of something, like money, that we might deem to be ours, it reminds us that our trust belongs with God, not with things. Things will always let us down. Letting go diminishes the myths of self-sufficiency and invincibility, the belief that we can personally solve any problem that comes our way. Instead, when we trust, we become co-workers with God in the gospel, giving to the poor what God first gave to us: our selves, our time and our possessions. (On that note, I am planning this year to give alms in the form of time, making time each day to make phone calls to my legislators on various issues, to advocate for those in need. If you want to know more about how I’m doing that, let me know!)

The next practice is prayer. Surely, prayer can take many forms! We could start today with praying for… guidance on how to pray during this season! Or, a couple Sundays ago, Jesus told us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. How about that for a Lenten discipline, to pray daily for someone you don’t like? How might that change our hearts, reorient them toward God, and maybe even change the world a little bit for the better? And if that seems too hard, go back to the message around which this day is centered: you are dust, and will return to dust, so… what have you got to lose? Go ahead: pray for your enemies.

Finally, fasting. This can take many forms. Fasting from food could bring you into solidarity with the less fortunate, and could, each time you feel a pang, serve as a physical reminder to pray. This act of self-discipline itself can help you to focus your attention on God, and those for whom God cares especially deeply, the poor. These are all valuable outcomes of fasting. And, there are also other kinds of fasts, other ways to refrain from a substance or practice in order to draw closer to God and closer to the poor. Fasting from patronizing unethical businesses, for example, would draw you into solidarity with the poor, and with people negatively impacted by oppressive business practices. (Example here.) Or fasting from doomscrolling could free up some time to pray or read scripture or a devotional, and would at the very least clear a pathway to joy, rather than despair. (See this about a social media fast.) What sorts of habits do you have that put a barrier between you and God, or that suck life out of you, rather than bring you joy? Fast from those, and see how that fast affects your heart, how it might help to create a clean heart and a right spirit within you. 

Jesus was for sure on to something with these three – almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. Tradition has also added study to the list of Lenten disciplines – setting aside some time to dwell in scripture, or learn about something that deepens your faith. You could do this each Sunday by coming to our class on the creeds. Or you could read a theology book (let me know if you want suggestions!). Or you could commit to learning more about an issue that affects the poor, and how you can get involved in some action that helps the most vulnerable among us. Study is a powerful way to change hearts and lives. 

I started this sermon by talking about Death Cafés, and the reality of sin and death. But the point is that this reminder, which we receive so poignantly on Ash Wednesday, ultimately leads us to the question, how then shall we live? How shall we live lives worthy of the Gospel, guided by God’s loving and life-giving hand, centered on Christ, infused with the Spirit? I pray that this season of Lent will be for you an opportunity to pursue this question, such that by the time we celebrate Christ’s resurrection and defeat of sin and death, we will have gained a deeper sense of what that new life can look like for us here and now.

Let us pray… Life-giving God, we often resist facing the scarier aspects of our reality. Give us courage to admit and accept what is inevitable, and then to let it guide us in how we live this life to your glory. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: It is good for us to be here (March 2, 2025)

Transfiguration C
March 2, 2025
Luke 9:28-43a

INTRODUCTION

Through the season of Epiphany, we’ve been trucking along through Luke’s Gospel and hearing all about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. But today we will jump ahead, and hear about the Transfiguration. This is the last big event before Jesus “turns his face to Jerusalem,” heads down the mountain, and makes his way toward the cross and his inevitable death (and, spoiler alert, his resurrection). 

On this last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, when we’ve been hearing a lot about light, we get the grand finale of light: the Transfiguration of our Lord on a mountaintop! Our first two readings will set that story up for us. To do this, we hear a bit about veils, and how they have functioned in faith, and how Jesus changes all that. We’ll hear about the veil Moses had to wear after he beheld the face of God and his face shone so brightly no one could even look at him. And then Paul will tell us about how, until Christ came along, we could not see God’s story clearly, as if we had a veil over our eyes.

As you listen, think about what veil is over your face that keeps you from seeing God or getting too close to God, or maybe that keeps others from seeing God in you. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

Anyone who has had kids knows that the Big Important Questions often come out during bedtime. Here, in the intimacy and safety of darkness and a favorite blanket, kids feel safe to offer up the fears and questions of their hearts. Grace has taken to warning me when she knows she’ll want to talk about something (which I appreciate, because it tells me I should use the bathroom before I go in to say goodnight!). 

The timing can be frustrating, I admit. Everyone is tired, and grown-ups are often antsy to get some adult-time with their spouse before they head to bed themselves. Yet these moments also feel holy. They are special, and I know I will blink and suddenly be longing for these intimate moments when my kids see me as their most wise and trusted and safe person to ask the big questions. In times when I might want to rush through, I try to remind myself, “It is good for us to be here.”

This has always been my favorite line in this story of the Transfiguration that we hear every year on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent. I love these words, of course, when it truly is a joyful and exciting – or even glorious! – moment, when we are celebrating. It is good for us to be here! Who could argue with that? But I also try to remember these words when that goodness is less obvious. Like standing on the bottom rung of a loft bed ladder, trying to get back downstairs. Like, sitting with a grieving family as they share memories of their loved one. Like, when I’m having a difficult conversation with someone and can feel myself literally shaking. It is good for us to be here, too. These words sound different in these different situations! But I believe that they are no less true. 

Jesus shining on a mountaintop is decidedly a “good for us to be here” moment. I mean, just picture this scene! Can you imagine? By now the disciples have seen a lot of wow-worthy stuff, as they’ve been following Jesus around for a couple of years, seeing him heal the sick, feed the hungry, and preach some mind-blowing sermons. It is no wonder the disciples are weighed down with sleep – I, too, would be exhausted by this time (as I often am, in my nighttime convos with the kids!). The disciples have earned some rest! But suddenly, before they can drop off completely into dreamland, a brightness shines in their eyes. Their teacher has become dazzling white, face shining! And Moses and Elijah, two giants of the faith, have suddenly appeared and started a conversation with Jesus! Like, WHOA. And while Peter has a reputation for sticking his foot in his mouth (and he will, later), his first response here is just right: “It is good for us to be here!” This, he recognizes, is a moment, a moment simply to be entered into, to be present in, to be experienced. 

Of course, Peter and the others can’t stay there, as much as they’d like to. Peter even offers to build some dwellings for everyone to stay comfortably and happily on the mountaintop, like one big, glorious family. But it is not to be. With a cloud’s rumbling reminder to everyone to “Listen to [my son, my Chosen!]” suddenly, the overtly glorious atmosphere dissipates. Jesus is found alone. Everything (and everyone) is silent. 

But, my friends, it is still good for them to be there. Together, sharing in that experience. That presence together, with Jesus is good. And then the next day when they walk down the mountain back into the valley – that is also good, for the call to discipleship is not a call to sit on a mountain and pray and never do anything more. Discipleship, after all, means action, and movement. That’s good! When they encounter a desperate father, pleading for his son – it is good for them to be there, too. When Jesus heals that suffering child – it is good for them to be there, too. And as they continue along with Jesus, whose sight is now set for Jerusalem, and what will be his suffering and his death – it is good for them to be there, too.  

It was easy for Peter, as it is for us, to say how “good” things are on the mountaintop, when God's glory is obvious, when things are going well. But is that statement any less true at the base of the mountain, where there are suffering children and desperate fathers? Does God cease to be glorious there, down amongst the suffering? 

Of course not. And we know this because we know that there is nowhere that God is more fully revealed than when he is beaten and bloodied and hanging on a cross. There, in that suffering place, is where God accomplishes the greatest act of love in all of history, in which Christ dies in order to liberate us from power of sin and death, and ultimately rises to give us new life. That is where God shows us the extent of His love for us: that He would give absolutely everything to free us and give us life. That is, indeed, glorious! 

And so, it is good for us to be here, even in the suffering – in the pain and fear at the base of the mountain, in the agony of the cross, in whatever sufferings of this world that we are currently enduring. It is good for us to be here, not because it is good to suffer, but because in the suffering is where Christ is, where he promises to be, where his glory is most profoundly revealed. 

And, here, in the suffering, is also where we can be Christ's presence, where we can show Christ’s loving presence through our presence. How easy it is to turn away from the suffering, to ignore it, since it doesn’t affect us anyway. To let someone else deal with it. But this is not the way of Christ, and it is not the way of a Christ-follower. No, we are drawn into the ministry of presence even with those at the foot of the mountain. As Paul says in our second reading today, “It is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry [and] we do not lose heart.” I know, it is so much easier and tempting to look away – but don't do it! Don't cover it up, as with a veil! See the suffering, know that Christ is there, and then to the best of your ability, be Christ's hands and feet and heart, IN that suffering. 

It is good for us to be here, my friends, in whatever way we are able. It is good to see Christ’s light shining through the broken places. It is good to BE Christ’s light, shining among the suffering. It is good to stumble forward, just doing the best we can do to manifest God’s glory in service to the poor. So do not lose heart. It is good for us to be here.

Let us pray… Radiant God, we love the glorious moments we get to spend in your presence. Help us also to love the moments you are present in suffering. Be with us as we journey down the mountain and to the valley, that we might be a part of shining your glorious light into a world in need. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: On loving enemies (February 23, 2025)

Epiphany 7C
February 23, 2025
Luke 6:27-38

INTRODUCTION

If you thought last week’s readings were difficult, get ready: today’s are even tougher. As a reminder of where we left off, Jesus is still giving his sermon on a level place. He’s just finished all those blessings and woes that made us squirm last week, and now, he goes on to offer some of the most well-known and most difficult teachings in the Bible: hold onto your hats!

Our first reading is a part of the stunning conclusion of the Joseph Story. Joseph was the favorite son of Jacob, and despised by his brothers, who sold him into slavery and told their father he was dead. He was brought to Egypt, and a wild and at times traumatic turn of events has landed him in a position second only to the Pharaoh himself! Joseph, you see, was able to interpret the Pharaoh’s dreams, and anticipate and prepare for a seven-year famine across the land. When Joseph’s brothers show up at his doorstep, asking for help enduring the famine, he recognizes them, but they don’t recognize him. He has a little fun at their expense, but eventually he reveals his identity. And that’s the part we will hear today. 

These lessons may be well-known, but they are not easy! There will surely be something in today’s readings that really leaves a pit in your stomach. Let it, my friends. That is the Spirit trying to tell you something. Listen to those urgings of the Spirit. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

Well, if you thought the part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Level Place that we heard last week was difficult, this week, it gets even more so, as Jesus describes what life looks like when we take the previous blessings and woes seriously, when we really do strive to level the playing field and love the way God loves. In this sermon, Jesus urges us to do things that go against our sensibilities and our self-protecting tendencies, even things that may offend us: love your enemies, pray for those who abuse you, turn the other cheek, be merciful, don’t judge lest ye be judged, forgive, and of course the rule so important that every major religion has a version of it, so valuable that we call it “golden” – do unto others as you would have them do until you. 

I am finding these instructions in faithfulness especially difficult to follow these days, and I know I’m not alone, because many of you and others in my life have openly expressed this difficulty! It seems impossible to be merciful and forgiving, to refrain from judgment, to pray for those who want to hurt us – and let alone to love all these people – when we are feeling angry, frustrated, or discouraged, when our concerns are belittled, when we, or our faith or values are attacked. How can we love someone whose beliefs, words or actions are actively causing harm to us, or to people we care about? How can we love our enemies?

These are important questions, worth spending some time on. So, let’s start with understanding a couple of key terms: love, and enemies. 

First, enemies – what qualifies as an enemy? Theologically speaking, “the Enemy” is Sin, or, the sinful human condition, which causes us to turn away from God and act in ways that bring about brokenness in our relationships with God and others, rather than the healing and wholeness God desires. With that in mind, someone might be seen as an “enemy” if something about our experience with or perception of that person stands in the way of us living out the gospel, living in the way God calls us to live. Let me say that again: someone might be seen as an “enemy” if something about our experience with or perception of that person keeps us from living in the way God calls us to live.

Now, that can look a lot of different ways. An enemy may simply bring out the worst in you, so you find your thoughts less charitable, and even vindictive. They might push your buttons in ways that make you lash out in anger, causing harm not only to your relationship with that person, but with others, too. An enemy might cause you to feel hopeless and despairing, losing sight of your faith in a loving God who always wins. An enemy might not care one bit about you, or even know you exist, yet they have a power over your heart and your life that makes it difficult to practice more loving, gospel-like behaviors – like compassion, or empathy, or simply sitting with another in their pain and listening, or even seeking forgiveness, healing, and reconciliation.

Can you think of people who have that effect on you? 

        Much as I hate to admit it, I sure can! 

These are the people Jesus wants us to try to love, to treat with the compassion we’d want to be treated with, and yes, even, to forgive. These are the interactions Jesus wants us to rise above, so that we do not get derailed in our efforts to live out the gospel of love, life, mercy, forgiveness, grace, and reconciliation – even with people with whom we’d rather not have to interact at all. 

Now, to be clear, none of this means that we condone evil behavior. That’s a common misconception about love, forgiveness and compassion: that loving, or forgiving someone, or seeking to understand why they are behaving the way they are, are akin to excusing or accepting their behavior. It is not. Remember, the goal here is to live a God-centered, gospel-driven life, and that life requires action, especially action that serves the poor. Plus, Jesus’ whole thing is to defeat sin and death, not to tell us to accept sin as our inconvertible reality. So, to that end, let’s move on to define what Jesus does mean here by love, in respect to our enemies.

The first tip comes from the topography I mentioned last week – you remember where Jesus is preaching this sermon? Luke tells us that Jesus is on “a level place,” on the same level as the poor, the hungry, the weeping. Let’s go ahead and assume that the enemy, whoever that is for us, is also on that same level place. So, the first step toward loving our enemy is this: to see them on a level place, no higher and no lower than we are. Because here is something that is true for every single human that ever lived: we are all sinners in need of God’s grace. We all have good in us, and, we all have the capacity for evil. We all have logs in our own eyes. And remembering that is true about not only our enemy, but also ourselves, and, committing to a bit of self-examination and repentance, puts us in a posture of humility that is essential if we have any hope of loving authentically. So step one: approach others with humility.

The second tip comes from a wonderful little Lutheran resource, The Small Catechism, and specifically Luther’s explanation of the 8th commandment, “you shall not bear false witness.” Luther explains that not only should we avoid lying about our neighbor (even our enemy), but also, “We are to come to our neighbor’s defense, speak well of them, and [now this is the kicker] interpret everything they do in the best possible light.” In other words, rather than presupposing malice or selfishness in their words or actions, presuppose the best intentions. Assume they are doing the best they can given their circumstances and knowledge. Assume that if they are acting hurtfully, they are probably doing so because they are, themselves, hurting. Seeing our enemy through these eyes assures that we don’t vilify them, but continue to see them as fellow human being – broken people, just like all of us. So step two: assume best intentions.

The next tip is where it gets tricky (I know, it already was tricky!). So far, we’ve only done self-reflection. But there is also an active, outward-facing part of love. So first, we can, as Jesus suggests, pray for our enemies – not pray that an anvil would fall on their head like the evil looney toon we think they are. But pray for them to know God’s presence in their lives, that God would guide their ways so they would be pleasing to God. I know, sometimes such prayer feels like, “What’s the point? They’re not gonna change,” but I can tell you – while I believe in the power of prayer to change the world, often the change that happens is more in you than it is in them. When you pray for someone (for, not against!), you can’t help but find your heart softened toward them. It does make it easier to view and to treat them with love. 

But, I also think there is room for correction within this love imperative. As I said before, I do not think loving or forgiving someone means you roll over and let them continue in their evil ways. The prophets frequently corrected people’s behavior, as did Jesus himself. In fact, just before this passage, he issued a series of “woes” – a sort of warning, to turn away from evil ways: ways that are harmful to God’s children, and in particular, to God’s most vulnerable children; away from ways that allow the oppressor to continue to dominate; ways that prevent people from walking in the ways of righteousness. This is the part of loving enemies that must be done with the most care, for when we are too passionate in our rebuke, it can be anything but loving (and will not be heard); and if we are too docile, it lacks the necessary impact to move people toward a change. So how do we split the difference?

This is why we must start with all that inner work I talked about a moment ago. We must approach this action with humility, and the knowledge that we are on a level place, each playing host to plenty of both logs and specks in our own eyes. We are all sinners in need of grace. We must assume the best intentions of the other, striving to understand with compassion and empathy why they might be behaving the way they are. And we must pray – for them, and also for ourselves, since our broken human ways can be our own worst enemy at times! Pray, so that whatever words or actions we exchange, they are infused with God’s gracious guidance.

This is such hard work, friends, loving our enemies, and it cannot be done on our own. But with God’s help, this is the sort of love that changes the world. Jesus is right – it is easy to love the people who love you. It’s easy to love people who think and believe like you do. It is easy to be kind to people who are kind to you. But being a disciple of Christ requires more. Being a disciple of Christ means that you do what is needed to bring healing to the brokenness of the world, and love into the hatred, and light into the darkness – not just because it’s a nice thing to do, but because that is what Christ did. Being a disciple of Christ means figuring out how to cultivate life where death threatens to win, because that’s what Christ did. Being a disciple of Jesus means loving our enemies, and doing unto others as we already had Jesus do unto us. That is what will heal the world. 

It is a daily discipline. Loving our enemies must be practiced in the most mundane interactions at Wegmans or online, and when we’re hearing the news, and in our relationships at work, and in our families, and in our churches. It is a practice, and one at which we have failed and we will continue to fail. Yet for all the times we fall short, God never does. As many times as we assume the worst in our neighbor, and fail to love them, we still come here each week with hands outstretched, asking for forgiveness, and being given a morsel of bread with those words, “My body broken, and given for you.” My grace, given for you – to heal your own brokenness, so that you, too, might go forth to love and heal the world. 

Let us pray… Loving God, you showed us how to love our enemies by your son, who forgave his accusers and adversaries right from the very cross on which he died. Give us the insight we need to engage with our enemies, so that we might be compelled not toward hatred, but toward compassion. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Where we choose to be planted (February 16, 2025)

Epiphany 6C
February 16, 2025
Jeremiah 17:5-10
Luke 6:17-26

INTRODUCTION

There is a very clear theme tying together the Old Testament and Gospel readings today: blessings and curses, or woes, as Jesus calls them. Jeremiah, who is known for his doom-and-gloom messages, makes a clear distinction between those who are blessed, and those who are cursed. The larger narrative context of this passage makes it look like, in particular, those who practice idolatry shall be cursed. Or as today’s reading will say, those who trust in human powers rather than God – they will shrivel up in a dry desert. On the other hand, those who do trust in the Lord above all things will have a consistent stream from which to drink. (You’ll see that same imagery in the Psalm.)

Although Jesus uses similar words, the meaning is somewhat different. Today we will hear what is known as the Sermon on the Plain, or Level Place – which you will find is very similar to Matthew’s more well-known Sermon on the Mount, but with a couple of important differences. One is the location – it’s a flat place vs. a mountain. The other is the addition of the woes (not curses – it’s different!). And I warn you, this version of Jesus’ sermon is pretty squirmy. But where Jeremiah’s message is more prescriptive (acting a certain way has a certain outcome), Jesus’ sermon has a different feel. It is more descriptive, saying, “This is the way it is,” and that word, “woe,” is less of a curse and more like a warning. Like, “Watch out, if this is the case for you” – which gives the possibility of a change. So, as you listen, listen for that warning. What is the Word drawing your attention to in your heart today, that needs to be addressed? Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Painting by Jesus Mafa.

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

Where do you choose to be planted?

I was listening to a preaching podcast this week, and the speaker asked this question, and it hit me square in the face. “Where do you choose to be planted?” It clung to my heart and mind and dug itself in deep. 

The question was inspired by the Jeremiah text. Jeremiah begins, quoting God, by cursing “those who put their trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength.” He likens that choice to a shrub that has been planted in the dry, barren desert. He contrasts this to “those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.” These, Jeremiah says, “shall be like a tree planted by water.” This tree never has to feel anxious or fearful, even in times of heat and drought, because it is near its source of nourishment and refreshment, and so “its leaves shall stay green.”

So, again I ask you, where do you choose to be planted? With that parched shrub in the desert, or with the deeply rooted tree by the stream?

The choice seems obvious, right? Give me the good stuff – I want to be by the water! I want lush, green leaves, and with all my heart I want not to feel anxious and fearful when things heat up or dry up. So, the answer is easy.

So why does that question continue to nag at me so?

I think it is the word “choose” that grabbed my heart. Where do you choose to be planted? Because as Jeremiah describes this, it is a choice. We can choose to plant ourselves in the trust of mere mortals and make flesh our strength. We can choose to believe the strong leader will save us, the one with the appealing promises of fixing our troubles immediately. We can choose to believe that making more money will bring the security we crave, or political alliances (whether ethical or not) will keep what we value safe (that’s actually the situation Jeremiah is responding to – an unsavory political alliance). We can choose to trust in our own self-sufficiency. And my friends, I confess that I have chosen those things, many times, and thus planted myself out there in the desert. 

Or, we can choose to put our trust in the Lord. And although we know this means being close to our source, having nice green leaves, and not being anxious in times of heat or drought… it is also the more difficult option. Because “mere mortals” are right in front of us, engaging our five senses and making irresistible promises. It feels real, concrete, and we are more willing to trust things that are concrete. Trusting in the Lord is more nebulous. How does that even look, when sometimes, I can’t even hear what the Lord God is saying, and I haven’t seen any results yet? How can we trust in the Lord when our world seems to be crashing down around us – cities burning, people dying, relationships breaking, policies disturbing – where even is God, so that we might trust Him?

Of course, we can hear God, if we listen – maybe not in the way we are accustomed to hearing mere mortals, but that’s what we have scripture for! That’s what we have the Church for, so that we can hear God’s Word read, and then hear it interpreted, and then sing aloud God’s promises, and receive a word of grace with our ears and then with our hands and tongues in the sacrament. All of this can be a great and trustworthy source of consolation for us in times of trouble, a much deeper comfort than the fleeting promises of a mere mortal. We can choose to be planted here, and I pray that we do!

Now, I could preach, and have, a whole sermon on the strength we draw when we choose this path, choosing to trust in God, rather than in the strength of mortals. But this week, I am more interested in the fruit that is borne from this choice. That is, when we trust in God, where does this lead us? Because while I love consolation as much as the next person, I do not think faith is only about receiving God’s gifts, and then just sitting back and letting the world go round. 

So, let’s pivot now to another question: when we choose to be planted in God’s promises, where does that lead us? And more, how does that equip us to live as Christ-followers in this world?

For this, we can turn to Luke, and Jesus’ sermon on a level place. A few weeks ago, Jesus preached in the synagogue, reading from Isaiah, saying that the Spirit had sent him to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, freedom to the oppressed, and that all of this was being fulfilled in their hearing. (If you recall, this sermon nearly got him thrown off of a cliff!) Today, in this sermon, Jesus elaborates on what this looks like. It looks first of all, like standing on a level place with the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and those who are reviled on account of the Son of Man. The topography here is no small detail – he is quite intentionally on their level. Remember back when Mary found out she was pregnant with Jesus, and she sang that God was bringing down the mighty and lifting up the lowly? Well, what happens when you do that? You all end up on the same level – and that is where Jesus is now, on the same level as the lowliest in society. And so, if we want to know where being planted in trust of God puts it, it puts us here: with the poor and lowly. 

I had a conversation this week with a seminary classmate of mine, someone with whom I’m sure I disagree on most political issues. In response to something he posted, I asked where he stood on some recent political events, and he evaded the question, saying instead, “Regardless of where I stand, our role is to love our neighbor, and love our enemy. There are two sides to every issue, and our job is to try to understand, and to love one another regardless.” 

Now, I agree with that, obviously – it is, you know, a basic tenet of our faith. But at the end of the day, I told him, we must take a side, and that side is with the oppressed, because that is the side Jesus is on. That is what he showed us it looks like to be planted in trust of God, for that is where God consistently chooses to be: with the poor, marginalized, and disenfranchised, with the hungry, weeping, and reviled. 

With our neighbors in South Africa who, without support from USAID, will struggle to administer prevention treatment for HIV and AIDS, and will die because of it; 

with kids who rely on funding for free and reduced breakfast and lunch to fill their bellies each day; 

with refugees who have, after years in process, been approved and recently arrived in Buffalo, NY with the promise of support in setting up their new life, only to find the funding cut off and no money to get them settled; 

with the migrant families afraid to go to school or church for fear of ICE raids, and being deported; 

with trans youth, fearing for their safety, for their very lives; 

with a bishop being condemned by Congress for pleading to a powerful man for mercy on behalf of those who are afraid.

That is where God plants Godself, right there on a level plain, with all of these people who are hungry, poor, sick, strangers, captive, or reviled on behalf of the Son of Man and his gospel of love and mercy. 

And so, when we are planted with God, when we trust in God rather than mere mortals, we also find ourselves planted firmly on the side of the poor and needy. This is what love of neighbor looks like.

As for love of enemy… I wonder if that might look something like Jesus’ woes: warnings about what happens when we choose to plant ourselves in the strength of the flesh and the false promises of mere mortals. Warnings not to be lured by the possibility of finding security in personal wealth, power, and fame. Warnings not to find satisfaction in our own full bellies, if it causes us to ignore the need around us. Warnings not to find too much comfort in people speaking well of us – lots of people have been admired for their power and lies, because it makes us feel good to be somehow a part of their brightness, but don’t be duped. The true light comes from God, not those false prophets, those false promises. 

My friends, this text is tough. And it is tougher still to see and to plant ourselves with the needy. It can be exhausting, and it is much nicer to stay in a comfortable place, where we are filled and laughing. But when we are planted in the Lord, trusting in the Lord, we have the nourishment we need to be able to love in this way. And this sort of love is where we find true life – that is, life in which we are close to our source, and flourishing even in times of fear and anxiety. It is the life that Jesus promises, that we experience when we plant ourselves beside him, on a level place, with those in need. 

I can’t say how that will look for you in this particular time and place. Next week, we’ll hear more of Jesus’ sermon, and he’ll give us some concrete ideas about how all this is lived out, but even then – only you know your capacity and resources, your priorities, the gifts you can share, and you know when you are the one in need of nourishment and restoration, and need to let someone else be the giver. God is with us either way, blessing us, filling us, giving us what we need to love one another, as God has, and will continue, to love us.

Let us pray… Loving God, we are so tempted by the comforts of this world. Give us the courage to plant ourselves by your life-giving stream, so that we would have the strength then to stand with you among the poor and needy, and be your loving hands and voice in this world on their behalf. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Peter's call and the life of discipleship (Feb. 9, 2025)

Epiphany 5C
February 9, 2025
Luke 5:1-11

INTRODUCTION

Today is a day of call stories. We’ll hear Isaiah’s dramatic call story, in which he describes a vision he had of God on a throne. You will recognize some of the words in this text: the call of the seraphs, the angels, are words we now sing as a part of the communion liturgy. I hope as you hear and sing them later this morning, that they will bring to your mind this scene that Isaiah describes, in which the whole room is filled with God’s glory, and where sin is blotted out.

Our reading from 1 Corinthians offers a glimpse of St. Paul’s call to missionary work – though it is not his call story (that can be found in the book of Acts), he reflects on how he became one of Jesus’ apostles; despite his sordid history of persecuting the church.

The last call story we will hear today is the call of the first disciples, Peter (here he is still Simon), James, and John. Where in the other Gospels, Jesus starts calling disciples pretty much first thing after his baptism and temptation in the desert, in Luke he has already been doing some teaching, preaching, and healing, and so has already made a name for himself. In fact, one of those healings was of Simon’s mother-in-law, so keep in mind that today’s interaction is not the first time Simon has met Jesus. 

Call stories like this matter – especially when the stories are included, as these are, in the biblical canon – because they set the tone for and even foreshadow the ministry to come. So as you listen, take notice of the details around each encounter and the way it is presented. What do you think those details can show us about how God calls us into ministry today? Let’s listen.

[READ]

by John August Swanson 

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

One of my favorite movies is When Harry Met Sally. I love the whole thing, but most of all I love the vignettes throughout of older couples telling the story of how they met. You can learn a lot about a person or people from how they tell these, their origin stories – stories about how they got to where they are today. 

The Bible, of course, is full of origin stories. The entire book of Genesis, of course, is origin stories, but there are also quite a few call stories as well – that is, stories about how various people came to be the servants of God we know them as today. Today we hear three of them: the prophet Isaiah, the Apostle Paul, and Jesus’ disciple, Simon Peter – three giants of the faith. We get insight from all of them about how they came to do the Lord’s work of spreading the word of God throughout the land. And like most origin stories, how a call story is told has much to tell us about the nature of that call, and what we can expect from it. 

So today I wanted to explore with you the call of Simon Peter, because while we are not all called to be prophets, like Isaiah, or church planters, like Paul, we are all called to be disciples, like Peter, and I think we can all learn something about the life of discipleship from Peter’s call story. So, let’s explore!

First of all, we can learn from Peter’s story that God calls ordinary, broken people (just like us) to be disciples. Luke tells us that Jesus has gone to the Lake of Gennesaret, some 80 miles from Jerusalem, where he just was. This spot on the lake is like, Nowheresville, Palestine, and he’s talking to a bunch of country folk and fishermen – not exactly the upper echelons of society. Furthermore, he’s targeted some fishermen who are allegedly professionals at this gig, but who have just utterly failed. All night they have fished, and caught nothing, not one fish! Some fishermen, right? But it is from this bunch of losers and failures from whom Jesus plucks his first (and most famous) disciples. 

Of course, this should come as no surprise to us, because this is a theme throughout the Bible: God is always choosing people with issues to do God’s work. Abraham and Sarah were abusive, Jacob was a scoundrel, Moses had a speech impediment, King David was a murderer, liar and adulterer. John the Baptist was a loon in the wilderness, Matthew was a slimy tax collector, and Paul was a persecutor of the church. And yet, I think we sometimes tell ourselves that we need to somehow have it all together before we can answer God’s call. I cringe when I hear people say things like, “I’ve wandered so far from God, I think lightening would strike the church if I ever entered it!” That’s exactly the opposite of what would happen if a notorious sinner walked in the door – indeed, no one but a sinner ever has. But God has shown again and again that sinners and failures and broken people are exactly the crowd Jesus interested in. 

Second, we can see from Peter’s call story that following Jesus requires immense trust. All night Peter and his friends have been fishing, and caught nothing. And then this carpenter/rabbi Jesus guy comes along and tries to tell these professional fishermen how to do their job! I doubt I’d be so gracious as Peter! I’d probably say, “Seriously, dude, you think you can do my job better than I can? Listen, I’ve been at this gig a long time, and I can tell you, if we didn’t catch any fish all night, we sure as heck won’t catch any right now, in the light of day with all these people around!” Surely Peter knew better than Jesus! And yet, Peter puts aside his confidence that he knows better, and casts the nets anyway. And the result is an abundance he can’t even manage on his own.

Boy, this is a lesson in discipleship I need again and again! I’m a pretty logical, smart person, and I usually think I know better than whatever crazy thing God has in mind. Yet dependence on my own intellect does not reflect much trust, does it? 

Last year, as you know, we received a multi-million dollar bequest, and said early on that we did not intend to use this bequest for our regular operating expenses. Instead, it would go toward ministry over and above our usual business. And so, while some we put some aside for capital improvements, and our endowment fund, and the hope of creating a new position for mission and outreach, a quarter of it, about a million dollars, we decided to give away to community organizations who are doing work we believe in. Very exciting! But then, by the end of the summer, it became clear that we were running a significant deficit – we were about $25,000 below our budgeted income for that point in the year. For several months, it was pretty concerning. It would have been really easy to say, “Well we have this bequest – why don’t we just give a little less away, and put that money toward our own needs, instead.” And yet, no one, not one person seriously suggested this, at least not to me. Instead, we were steadfast in our decision to be generous, trusting that God would provide. And God did! We ended the year with a surplus. You see, how we manage our money and resources is one concrete way we can practice trust, rather than logic, in our faith. It is hard, but God does have a way of coming through for us. And Peter’s call story shows us that this sort of trust is faithful discipleship. 

Third thing we can learn from Peter’s call story is that following Jesus starts with repentance – that is, confession, and turning away from sinful ways. When Jesus tells him to cast his nets again, his first response is skepticism. “Uh, we’ve tried that… but whatever.” When he sees the bounty that results (so many fish the nets break and the boats begin to sink!), he immediately recognizes his unbelief, his limited perspective, his belief that nothing more than he had seen before could ever happen. Jesus opens Peter’s eyes not only to the possibility of something he’d never imagined, but also to his own sinfulness, his own need for grace. 

And perhaps that is even the better lesson we can learn here: that we are all sinners in need of God’s grace. That every last one of us has doubted whether God can really pull through for us; every last one of us has put our trust in human things, rather than divine things; every last one of us has held a limited view of the power of God. To start our journey with repentance, with confession of our unbelief, is to start our journey by saying, “Here, Jesus, you drive. I can’t do it, but I know that you can. I am a sinner in need of grace, and I know and trust that you will deliver.” That’s why we start nearly every Sunday worship service with a time of confession. It is so that, as we bring ourselves to worship (our whole selves, even the broken bits), we are powerfully reminded that we are sinners who are utterly dependent on God’s grace. And, even more, that we are, each day, assured of being given that grace. 

Finally, what we can learn from Peter’s call story is that following Jesus, while inspiring and life-giving, can also be really scary. After Peter recognizes and names his human frailty, Jesus tells him, “Do not be afraid.” This is always a clue that what comes next is really something worth being afraid of! It’s like, “Don’t freak out, I’m about to give you a huge, important task,” but it also means, “but don’t worry: I’m gonna be right here the whole time.” 

And so it is here: “Do not be afraid, Simon Peter. I’m going to use you to spread this gospel, to share the good news, to cast your nets into the deep waters of the world, where there are people you’re not used to talking to, and situations unlike you’ve seen before, and experiences that will stretch you to your limit and then some. It ain’t gonna be easy. But do not be afraid: I’ll be here with you the whole time.”

That’s how it is to be a disciple, you see? Being a disciple of Christ implies a call into the deep waters, into the chaotic world, to bring there a word of hope. Being a disciple means sometimes choosing trust over logic and good sense. Being a disciple means admitting your shortcomings, but rather than dwelling there, trusting that God will use you despite or even because of your brokenness and failures. Being a disciple means sometimes rocking the boat, even sometimes to the point of it sinking, if doing so will help to further the radical, life-changing, and loving message of the gospel. 

And so, my friends, let us not be afraid to live into this call. Let us bring our whole, broken and sinful selves to this work, to the deep, chaotic waters of the world. Let us turn from sin, and above all, let us trust in God’s presence and abundant grace – for us bunch of sinners and failures, and for the whole world.

Let us pray… Lord Jesus, you have called us into the deep waters of discipleship. When we doubt our worthiness, or are overwhelmed by our sin or shortcomings, or think we know better than you, help us to trust that you have called us for a reason. Help us each day to live into that call. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Responding faithfully to rage (January 26, 2025)

Epiphany 3C

January 26, 2025

Luke 4:14-12

INTRODUCTION

Today, during this epiphany season of revelation, we will hear about God’s revelation through the Word, especially in our first reading, from Nehemiah, and our Gospel reading. Let me contextualize each of those for you. 

The book of Nehemiah is actually part of a pair, Ezra-Nehemiah. Ezra was a priest, and Nehemiah a governor, and together they helped to rebuild Israel (which had been destroyed) after they returned from 70 years in exile – Nehemiah physically, in the form of rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem and the Temple, and Ezra spiritually. Ezra, you see, has been working with other priests to put together what would become the Torah, the law, what we know as the first five books of the Bible. During the exile, when Israel was dispersed and was away from the center of their faith, many had begun writing down what had previously been purely oral tradition. Now Ezra and others were working on compiling that work, and in today’s reading we will witness the very first time the people are hearing Torah read to them, the first time they are encountering Holy Scripture. And, as we’ll see, they are deeply moved by it.

A few centuries later, we find Jesus in the Temple, and this is also an important first: according to Luke, this sermon Jesus gives in his hometown is his first public appearance. He reads the words of Isaiah and says they are fulfilled in this hearing. And like in Nehemiah, the people are amazed.

Hearing scripture read and interpreted is still an essential part of our worship life – it’s happening right now! – and still a moment in which we believe God to be revealed to us. So as you listen, watch for God! Notice how the Spirit is moving in you today. What word or phrase hits you in a particular way? What comforts you, or what feels uncomfortable, either in the scripture or in the sermon that follows, and why do you feel that way? All of that is the work of the Spirit, and a way God is speaking and being revealed this day. So… let’s listen!

[READ]

Let us pray. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you O God, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

The story that has dominated the news, at least in my circles, this week is that of Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde’s sermon at the Inaugural Service of Prayer for the Nation at the Washington National Cathedral. Bishop Budde preached about unity, and what it takes to achieve it: honoring the inherent dignity of all, honesty, humility, and seeking the sort of love for one another that is based in the pursuit of justice. I watched the full 13-minute sermon, and I encourage you to do the same. I found her words to be gentle yet convicting, faithful, courageous, and biblical. 

        But it was the last two minutes of the sermon that got most of the media attention, because these words she addressed directly to the newly inaugurated President of the United States, in the prophetic tradition of speaking truth to power. First acknowledging that millions of people have put their trust in him, speaking to his authority and position, she then pleaded, “In the name of God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now.” She went on to mention those with gay, lesbian or transgender family members, who fear for their lives. She mentioned undocumented immigrants who hold crucial jobs in our country, and their children who are afraid their parents will be taken away. “Have mercy,” she pleaded, and added, “Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were once strangers in this land.” 

It was powerful and bold; as a preacher, my jaw was on the floor, just imagining saying these words to the president in such a public way. Predictably, the public response was mixed, even among Christians. Many praised her courage, and her faithfulness to the gospel of Jesus Christ, saying, “This is what speaking the truth in love looks like.” Other Christians criticized her, interpreting her preaching as a direct attack on the president, using such words as “disgusting,” “disrespectful,” and “pathetic.” The president himself demanded an apology. She gently responded, “I’m not going to apologize for asking for mercy for others.”

As someone who was very moved by her words and their rootedness in the gospel, I tried to get curious about the opposite reaction, that of those who found her preaching worthy of such condemnation. What was so offensive, I wondered, about a bishop proclaiming a need for unity, for viewing others with dignity and being humble and honest, and loving one another? Why did people who proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord find it problematic to plead for mercy for those who are afraid? Aren’t mercy, humility, compassion, and love of neighbor at the very heart of the gospel, and Jesus’ teachings? 

I found some insight, as I often do, in our assigned Gospel reading today. Jesus, visiting his hometown of Nazareth, reads a text from Isaiah that is all about care for the most vulnerable. Good news for the poor, sight for the blind, release for the captives, freedom for those who are oppressed, and that last bit about the year of the Lord’s favor refers to a massive economic reordering resulting in a fair distribution of wealth. This good news has been promised for centuries – but here, Jesus says, “This has been fulfilled in your hearing.” In other words, “It’s happening folks, right now. This good news for the poor is coming about right now.” 

Now at first, people are digging this news. The residents of Nazareth, Luke tells us, “spoke well of [Jesus] and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” Good news is wonderful when it is for you!

        But, their amazement doesn’t last. Because then Jesus goes on. “I’m sure now that you’ve heard this,” he says, “you’re going to ask me to bring healing upon you here in Nazareth – like that proverb says: ‘Doctor, heal thyself.’ Take care of your own. You’ve probably heard about what I’ve done in Capernaum, and now you’re hoping I’ll do the same here.” They look at him expectantly – well, yeah, Jesus! Of course! But then Jesus shocks them again: “Well, I have to tell you something: no prophet is ever welcomed in his hometown.” Wait, what? Of course he was welcome! Welcome to bring all the healing and grace he has already brought elsewhere! Jesus goes on. “Remember back in the time of the prophet Elijah,” he says, “during that long three and a half years of drought when famine devastated the land? The only widow to whom God sent help was – who? The widow of Zaraphath in Sidon – a foreigner! And you remember when there were many lepers in Israel during the time of the prophet Elisha? And the only one who was cleansed was, yes, another foreigner – Naaman from Syria. You see, in both cases, God reached out not to those who see yourselves as the chosen, as God’s priority, but rather, to those on the fringes, the outsiders, the people that you all would likely have nothing to do with! Because that is who God is about – God is about serving those people.” 

        And that is the part that really upsets people. The Jesus portrayed in Luke’s Gospel does not mince words when it comes to serving the poor, the outsider, and disenfranchised. We saw it right at the start, when mother Mary sang about bringing down the mighty and lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry and sending the rich away empty. And now Jesus says the same: God is about serving those who are suffering on the margins. The foreigners. Those who are hungry. The outsiders. Those who fear for their lives. Those who are oppressed. 

        It sounds like good news, right? Unless, of course, it doesn’t fit with what we think ought to happen. Then it sounds, well, a bit threatening – to our perspective on life, to our wellbeing, even to who we are. And that is what happens in this Gospel story. These hometown Nazareth folks think they ought to get special priority, but Jesus points instead to God’s care for those who are oppressed. And Luke tells us that the people, upon hearing this, are filled with rage – such rage, that they drive him out of town! Such rage that they lead him to the edge of a cliff, intending to throw him off, to kill this man who just a moment ago amazed them with the gracious words he spoke. So much rage, they want to kill him.

        I read that Bishop Budde also received death threats after preaching her sermon about love, unity, compassion, and mercy. One person publicly said she, an American-born citizen, should be deported for her words. That, too, is rage at work. It is what people are capable of when we feel threatened or afraid or called out, or even if we are just told that the way we have seen things is not right. I have never issued a death threat myself, but boy oh boy, when I am criticized in a way I believe is unfair, in a way that challenges my previously held belief about myself or the world, I can feel my heart start to race, my skin prickle, my fists start to clench, and I am ready to go on the attack – to throw an insult right back at the person who dared to question my motives or actions. It’s a very human response.

        But it is not the response Jesus models. Did you notice how he responds to their rage? He simply walks through the midst of the angry mob and goes along on his way. He is confident in his message, rooted in ancient Holy Scripture – his message of redemption, love and compassion. He doesn’t engage the rage. Bishop Budde’s response to attacks has been similar – she has remained on the side of mercy, saying she does not hate the president, and has been and continues to pray for him, but she will not compromise on her plea for mercy. 

        What is our response? How do we respond faithfully when we feel threatened, fearful, enraged? 

It's a hard question, and one to sit with and get curious about. And maybe that is really the key – to respond with curiosity rather than accusations, to listen rather than yell. After reading Isaiah, about the ways those who are suffering would get what they need, Jesus told the crowd that these promises were being fulfilled in their hearing – and I believe that is still happening. It is happening in us, as we hear those words today. We too, are drawn into this promise of redemption as we do the work of the Church – during worship, after worship as we decide where to give away our $100,000, during our annual meeting, and throughout the week as we interact with people in need, and hear people’s stories and their joys and their fears. We are all a part of the redeeming work Jesus lays out today. We do that work imperfectly and at times falteringly, as we try to build and live into the kingdom of God on earth. And yes, sometimes we might find ourselves enraged – at injustice, or at others’ response to that injustice, or at disrespect or disregard, or at people’s willingness to say aloud things we thought should have remained silent, or people’s unwillingness to say what needs saying! That rage is a part of being human. But what we do with that rage is a part of being a Christian. And what we do with it, is to respond with humility, dignity, compassion, and above all, love. 

        By ourselves, we cannot do this. But thanks be to God that we are not left to do this by ourselves. We do it as a part of the whole body of Christ, the Church on earth, and we do it with Christ alongside us all along the way. Together, we show the world what Christ’s Church is about: a love that transcends division and disagreement, that heals and redeems, that brings good news to those who suffer, and that shows our hurting world a way toward new life.

        Let us pray… Redeeming God, so much in this world fills us with rage. Help us, when we feel threatened, to respond with curiosity and humility, with dignity and compassion, and most of all with the love shown to us by your Son Jesus Christ, our Lord, in whose name we pray. Amen. 

Sermon: Our gifts are needed now (January 19, 2025)

 Epiphany 2C
January 19, 2025
1 Corinthians 12
John 2:1-11

INTRODUCTION

We have now moved out of a season of festivals and into the season called Epiphany. In these weeks between Jesus’ birth, his manifestation to the magi, and his baptism… and on the other side, the beginning of Lent… we will hear lots of stories about how God has been revealed and made manifest to people of faith throughout time, and reflect upon how God is revealed and manifest to us still today. 

And we’ll kick all that off with the story of Jesus turning water into wine. It is one of his most well-known miracles (or signs, as John calls them), known even to people who have never stepped foot in a church. We know the outcome, but let me set the context for you a bit. This is Jesus’ first public appearance in John’s Gospel. The Gospel started with the beautiful prologue, some of which we heard on Christmas Eve when we lit candles. The prologue says that “through [Christ’s] fullness we all have received, grace upon grace.” The rest of John’s Gospel will show us what “grace upon grace” looks, smells, tastes, sounds, and feels like, and here is the first glimpse: grace upon grace tastes and smells like the best wine, looks like abundantly full jugs, and feels like a celebration!

Looking at the other readings, in Isaiah we’ll see echoes of the wedding theme from the Gospel. And in Corinthians, we will hear about what gifts emerge when God’s Spirit is manifest in us, and learn how our different gifts share a source (the Spirit) and a purpose (to serve the common good). As you listen, watch for ways that God’s “grace upon grace” is manifest, in each of these readings, and in your life. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

There’s a cute, animated movie made by Pixar called The Incredibles. Anyone seen it? It is about the members of a superhero family (Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl, and their three kids), who, due to a government mandate, are forced to hide their superpowers, and live quiet, ordinary lives. One day, the middle child, Dash, who has super speed, is lamenting that he has to hide his powers. “I thought our powers made us special,” he complains. “Everyone is special,” his mom replies (total mom response, right?). Dash rolls his eyes and says, “That’s just another way of saying no one is.”

I get where he is coming from! In an age of “everyone gets a trophy,” we begin to wonder, “But who is most special?” Turns out this is an age-old longing, to be special; we see it in the Corinthian community, this early Christian church planted and cared for by the Apostle Paul. The community was riddled with divisions about all manner of thing, including authority, communion practices, and as we see today, spiritual gifts. The question seems to be: what are spiritual gifts, and are some better than others, as some folks have been claiming? All the controversy is making it difficult for the community to live into their newly forming Christian identity, and making it difficult to love each other. In fact, in the very next chapter, Paul will take the time to explain, in a beautiful poem, what love looks like: love is patient, kind, not boasting or rude, etc. 

Today, the controversy around spiritual gifts is not our most heated one. But we do know a thing or two about division, controversy, and the difficulty we sometimes find in loving people on the other side of the issue from us. So, let’s take a look at Paul’s discussion of spiritual gifts, in this divided community, and perhaps this can begin to help us sort out our own approach to whatever we consider to be our current challenges.

First of all, Paul points out, there is a lot of diversity here. A variety of gifts, a variety of services, a variety of activities – in short, lots of ways of being in and interacting with the world and each other. And yes, that can be very difficult! I’m sure we have all worked with people who approach things differently, and then you butt heads and you go home to your spouse or your friend and say, “Uuggghh this person is driving me bonkers!!” The struggle is real. But, Paul says, in all our difference, there is still something that unifies us: one Lord. The same Spirit. And that Spirit, that Lord, that God, is the source and giver of all of our gifts. Yes, even the gifts in other people that drive us bonkers. Even the ones we admire. They all share a source: the same God who activates them in everyone. I find I have an easier time dealing with the reality that others’ gifts might clash with my own, or even that I might be jealous of someone else’s gifts, when I remember this: that God has gifted each of us – gifted us abundantly and graciously, though we do not deserve it – and so in the midst of all our differences, we still share that. 

Still, this comes with a caveat: God has gifted us, yes, and now we become stewards of these gifts, just as we are stewards of our financial gifts. And to be a good steward of God’s gifts, is to use those gifts toward the benefit of others. “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit,” Paul writes, “for the common good.” Too often we hoard our gifts for ourselves – both financial and spiritual! We have an attitude of scarcity, or we are driven by greed, or a bit of both. But that is not how spiritual gifts are intended to be used. Our unique abilities to teach, serve, love, pray, sing, hope, trust, write, nurture, or heal, are not given to us for our own self-promotion. They are given for the purpose of common growth and blessing of the church, that we might, through our gift, proclaim that Jesus is Lord, by bringing the love of God to a hurting and broken world. 

I was thinking about this during our council meeting this past week. Can I just say that I really love our council? This group is a joy, that so beautifully encapsulates this idea that we were each given unique and wonderful gifts, and when we use them for the common good, we become something greater and more glorious than we ever could alone. A couple people on council bring financial know-how, helping us steward our resources. Another brings a depth of spiritual thoughtfulness, often bringing the group to deeper reflection on how our actions reflect our faith. Another is always ready with a joke, and keeps us from taking ourselves too seriously. Another always holds us accountable to good legal process, so we don’t find ourselves in a position to get sued. Another is always willing to do a craft-related job, which comes up more than you’d think! Another brings and shares delicious food, transforming meetings from business only, into a gathering of friends doing the business of the church together. Each of us were given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good – and it shows! This diversity of gifts is God’s intention, and it makes us all on the council, and the wider congregation, better – and that, in turn, makes our wider community better.

A final note on spiritual gifts, and I’m going to jump over to the Gospel reading for this one: we may be called upon to use our gifts in ways different from how we expected or how we have before. I just love this interaction between Jesus and his mother. Jesus is at the wedding, doing his thing, and Mary sees a need, an opening, into which Jesus can make his entrance. She tells him so, but that is not where his attention was. “Not the time, mom,” he replies. This is not how or when he envisioned revealing himself. But almost immediately, he reconsiders, and as a result, completes one his most famous miracles, “revealing God’s glory,” and bringing his previously skeptical disciples around to believing in him. 

We never know when and how our God-given gifts will be called upon to serve the common good, when they will be needed to reveal God’s glory. Tomorrow our country will transition to a new administration. And in the coming years, we may find our God-given gifts will be called upon in different ways. Some of our neighbors will need us to use our gifts to love and serve them in new ways, to reveal God’s love. Making the government more 'efficient' will mean some will lose access to services they depend upon. Neighbors with a different land of origin will have increased fear of being sent away from the place they have made their home. Those suffering from mental illness may find symptoms worsen (already, counselors have seen a huge influx of need). For some, just existing in this divided and vitriolic political climate is extremely stressful, simply because their views are different from the majority and they feel judged and disparaged for it. And more – the needs of our neighbors are and will be varied. But thankfully, so are our gifts. How will our gifts be called upon in this time? How will we respond? How can we all use our Spirit-given gifts, whatever they are, to proclaim “Jesus is Lord” through our acts of love? Or, as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Life's most persistent and urgent question is: What are you doing for others?”

Whatever your particular spiritual gifts are – prayer, song, art, care-taking, nurturer, health and wellness, mediation, financial or legal know-how, community organizing – they are desperately needed: today, tomorrow, in ten years, all the time. God has given us these gifts for a reason, to serve the common good. And if God has asked this of us, we can be sure that God will accompany us, abide with us, and give us what we need to accomplish it. God will help us to participate in God’s continuing purpose of redeeming this hurting world, in whatever way we have been gifted to do.

Let us pray… Gracious Spirit, you have given us grace upon grace, and more gifts that we could possibly deserve. Give us the wisdom to know how you are calling us to use this diversity of gifts for the common good, so that together, we might proclaim Jesus as Lord, and share your love with the world. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.