In thanksgiving for Grace

This is my latest letter to Grace, describing her at almost three months of age - complete with some of our favorite pictures of her so far!

November 27, 2015

Dear Grace,

Two months old!

“She is pure delight.” This is how I respond when people ask me how you are doing. And on this day after Thanksgiving – your first ever and our first being grateful for you – it seems appropriate to tell you why.

I thank God constantly that you are who you are, and that we ended up with a baby like you. You are wonderful for every reason an infant can be wonderful: you eat well and happiily, you only cry when

Helping mom in the kitchen,
making pumpkin soup from scratch.

you have a legitimate need to communicate (hungry, diaper, tired, gassy, want to play), and you sleep like a champ (you were sleeping through the night the second night at home, and now you sleep from about 11pm to 7am). For all of these reasons, you are an amazing child who is a joy to care for.

In addition to your basic needs being fairly easy to fulfill, you are also gorgeous. You have these incredible, bright blue eyes that are often wide open and taking in the world; a rosy complexion with reddish hair; great big, pinchable cheeks; pink, cupid’s bow lips; and a heart-shaped face. Everyone, strangers and friends alike, say, “She’s so alert!” And you are – mild-mannered and alert.

Caught a smile!

But although we love those things about you, what makes you “pure delight” is your budding personality. You are so curious, little one! And determined, my goodness. Though you certainly enjoy a good cuddle, what you really want to do is learn and grow. You love being in a front carrier so you can see everything that is happening, especially when we go to new places (the first time we went to the mall, on Halloween, you had a ball!). When we are sitting on the couch, you would rather try to stand than lie still, and the amazing thing is that at almost 3 months, you can hold your weight on your pudgy little legs. Actually you’ve been doing that for weeks. If we hold your hands for

balance, you can hold your weight up. Remarkable. (That is, until your head falls one way and your bum goes the other, but you wiggle yourself back upright.) Your neck strength and head support has been there from day one, and just this past week you rolled over the first

Morning fun with mama!

time by yourself – a month ahead of schedule! You grab things and manipulate them – including, unfortunately, my hair, which I now have to wear back all the time as a result! Any time you work at these things, your eyes are wide open and your face set in determination to master the skill.

You are also very ready with a smile. Often when we go to wake you in the morning, you turn to look

at us and offer a huge, bright grin, which melts our hearts every time. Dad’s favorite part of the day is when he comes home from work and you welcome him with a smile. Any time you meet a new person who engages with you, you show them a gummy grin and laughing eyes. You play with us, interspersing each game with smiles and giggles. Lately you have been extremely vocal, trying out your little voice in all kinds of different sounds. You often try to mimic us, and your dad is convinced he has taught you how to say, “Hi!” which is appropriate for the daughter of two extroverts. You likely are an extrovert yourself – you rarely cry

Napping after first walk in the snow.

when in a group of people, and will happily be handed around during coffee hour at church, from one set of loving arms to another. You also have started to try singing. When I sing to you, you make sounds with your voice that are longer tones than when you are trying to talk. This brings me so much joy, I can’t even tell you. Often when I’m singing a song and you join me, I dissolve into laughter because I’m so overcome with joy. (Unfortunately, I used to be able to sing you sleep, but now you are so eager to join me, I think it sometimes wakes you up instead!)

Cute from red head to bowed toes!

In short, my dear, you melt our hearts. You are charming and personable and love being with people. You seem to love life. Everyone who meets you is taken with you – but most especially your family. Grace, my love, we cannot wait to see how you continue to grow and learn and take on your own special and unique personality. Every day with you is a joy.

                                                         Your adoring Mama

Klaus is sitting on Grace. Grace isn't so sure about it.

"Daddy's Little Princess Leia" -
the only time she's his princess.
(Usually, she's "president.")

Sermon: Being grateful (Thanksgiving Eve, 2015)

Thanksgiving Eve (B)

November 25, 2015

            When I was a kid, my favorite holidays were Christmas, Halloween, and my birthday (yes, I considered my birthday to be a holiday) because those were the days that I got stuff. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve grown more and more fond of Thanksgiving. Though I know the busy-ness of the Christmas season is quickly overtaking this day of thanks, in my family we aim to keep Thanksgiving as a day that is purely about giving thanks, being grateful for the abundant blessings we already enjoy. I think it is pretty darn cool that there is a day on our calendar set aside specifically for this. God knows, we need it in this culture so interested in acquiring more and more!

            As much as I like having a dedicated day for giving thanks, I also know that gratitude is something that should be practiced more than one day a year; it should be a way of life. This is certainly true for us as people of faith; that’s why the Bible is full of imperatives and expressions of thanks and praise. And I believe these repeated imperatives to “Thank the Lord!” are less about God’s need to be thanked, and more because God knows how life-changing gratitude can be.

In his book, The Year of Living Biblically, A.J. Jacobs, who self-identifies as agnostic, tries to follow every single biblical commandment for one whole year, and that includes giving thanks at meals. He recalls one day, while giving thanks for his hummus lunch, that he got carried away, thanking God for the land, and all the people who contributed to the hummus, from the farmers, to the truckers, to the people who designed the label, to the Italian lady in the deli where he bought it. He concludes, “The prayers are helpful. They remind me that the food didn’t spontaneously generate in my fridge. They make me feel more connected, more grateful, more grounded, more aware of my place in this complicated hummus cycle. They remind me to taste the hummus instead of shoveling it into my maw like it’s a nutrition pill. And they remind me that I’m lucky to have food at all. Basically, they help me get outside of my self-obsessed cranium.” By the end of the year, there are a few practices Jacobs wants to keep up, and gratitude is one of them.

            Well, gratitude is all well and good, especially when your life is full of joy, when you’re surrounded by people who make you happy, when there is nothing heavy weighing on your heart. But what about when you’re not in a grateful mood? We know all too well that life isn’t always rosy or joyful. Practicing gratitude isn’t so easy or fun for the recent widow, who is celebrating her first Thanksgiving without her longtime husband, nor for the family whose sole bread-winner has just lost his job, nor for the couple whose marriage is in shambles but the rest of the family doesn’t know it yet, so they have to put on their happy faces and fake their way through dinner with the extended family. Being grateful can seem an impossible task when your life is overcome not with joy, but with worry, sadness, and fear.

            Researcher Brené Brown discusses in her book, TheGifts of Imperfection, how worry is the enemy of joy. In a moment of vulnerability, she confesses to some fellow parents how sometimes her feelings of joy over her young daughter are “ripped out” by her worry that something will happen to her daughter. To her surprise, her fears are affirmed by the other parents – they also feel their worry ripping out their joy. How powerful worry is! How easy it is for worry to creep in and make us forget all about being grateful, in exchange for being afraid.

            The danger of this is no news to Jesus; that is why he addresses it directly in his Sermon on the Mount, which we heard a moment ago. Here he makes it sound so easy, “Don’t worry about your life,” he says. “See, the birds aren’t worried, and the lilies of the field aren’t concerned. What have you got to worry about?” I hate to say it, but for me, this simply isn’t enough. If it were that easy just to not worry, then the world would be a very happy place. But it is not easy simply to turn off those strong feelings of worry and fear.

            This, then, is where gratitude makes its entrance once again. In response to her moment of vulnerability about her daughter’s well-being, Brené Brown goes on to say that by practicing gratitude, she is able to know joy, and this is what keeps worry at bay and sustains her during the hard times. Other research agrees with her assertion: studies have shown that people who regularly practice gratitude have greater life satisfaction. It turns out that joy doesn’t lead to gratitude; rather, gratitude leads to joy. In other words, gratitude is the antidote to worry.

            How, then, do we learn to be grateful amidst the worries and struggles of life? David Steindl, a Benedictine monk who has written volumes on gratitude and joy, has some practical advice. He acknowledges that it is not possible to be grateful for everything – there are many things in life that do cause us and the world pain, suffering, and sadness. But, he goes on, it is possible to be grateful in any given moment, and we can do this in the same manner that we learned how to cross the street: first we stop, then we look, then we go.

            The first part, stopping, is very important and often overlooked as we go about our high-powered, high productivity lives. We have learned to applaud accomplishment, and accomplishment doesn’t happen if we stop! And so as a result, we miss things to be thankful for. Brother Steindl recalls how when he returned home after spending some time living in Africa, he marveled every

time he turned on the faucet – to have fresh water so readily available! And each time he flipped the light switch – it was amazing! Of course this amazement wore off after he grew accustomed to life back home once again. But he didn’t want to forget to be grateful for that fresh water and that rapid light. So he put stickers on the faucet and the light switch as a reminder to be thankful for them, so that he would never take for granted this gift. It was his way of putting a stop sign in his life, to help him remember to stop and be grateful.

            Once you have stopped, Brother Steindl says, you must look. Open all your senses to take in the marvelous world around you, and enjoy what is given to us. My mom tells about her Grandma Nita, saying she was always giving thanks for everything around her. She would see a lovely tree and say, “Oh, just look at that tree. Jesus put that tree there for me. Thank you Jesus, for that tree!” It’s no surprise that in every picture we have of Grandma Nita, her face is alight with joy. She took in the world with all her senses, and gave thanks for it.

            Finally, says Brother Steindl, after stopping and looking, we have the opportunity to go and do. It is a challenge to rise to the opportunity, especially when we are in the midst of our worry and fear, but being grateful makes it possible. So what do we do? Whatever life offers you in that particular moment! Often it is simply to enjoy, to notice what God has done in your life, what joy God has brought. Or, this gratitude may also propel us toward actions of love and service. It may move us toward making a difference in the world, or in the life of one individual, or it may just move us closer to God. Whatever the case, this third part, this “going” part of gratitude, is what can revolutionize the world.

            And this, finally, is what Jesus is getting at in that last line of our Gospel reading: “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” This simple gratitude formula – stop, look, go – is also a formula for seeking the kingdom of God. Gratitude is what draws us toward joy, it is what focuses us on the great Giver, and it is what moves us toward seeking justice, peace, and love – all marks of God’s kingdom and its righteousness. So do not worry about your life. Seek instead to stop, look at the many gifts around you, and go seek God’s love and goodness in the world. Be grateful, and all these things will be given to you as well.

            Let us pray… God of all goodness, it is sometimes hard to be grateful when we are overcome with worry. But you have shown us through your Son that you are more powerful than all our worries. Help us to stop and see your goodness, to look around for signs of your kingdom, and to go out in trust and good faith that your kingdom is at hand. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Not from this world (Nov. 22, 2015, Christ the King)

Christ the King B

November 22, 2015

John 18:33-38

Grace to you and peace from the one who is, and who was, and who is to come. Amen.

            I am not from Rochester. If I were from Rochester, then I would say “EL-ementary school”

instead of eleMENt’ry school, and I might actually like garbage plates. But as it is, I am not from here.

            I am from Northern California. So much of who am and what I’m interested in results in my being from a small town in Northern California: I’ve been recycling and turning off lights my whole life, shopping at local establishments was a given because for the most part, it was the only option, and almost everything I do, I consider how it will affect the environment, and look for the most natural, healthy, earth-safe route possible. Because I’m from Northern California, I will always be a little bit of a crunchy, earthy hippie.

            I don’t need to tell you: where you’re from plays a huge role in forming who you are, what you value, and how you behave in the world. And so it is significant when Pilate asks if Jesus is the King of the Jews, that Jesus responds, “My kingdom is not from this world.” In telling Pilate that he is from a place that is not this world, he is also telling Pilate that his behavior is going to be something other than that of this world. As Jesus says, if he was from this world, his followers would be fighting for him, and he likely would be putting up a violent fight as well. In case you didn’t catch it, this scene is a part of Jesus’ trial, right before he is to be put to death. If ever there was a time to use violence and put up a fight, this is it!

            And yet, Jesus and his kingdom are not from this world. And so he doesn’t put up a fight, and neither do his followers. All the way to the end, Jesus lives a life that is characteristic of the home from which he comes: he lives a life with peace as its final goal, and a life of obedience to the Father, and a life of self-sacrificial love.

            Jesus’ unwillingness to resort to the violence of this world is at once a gracious and a difficult word to hear, especially after yet another brutal terrorist attack on a country similar in culture to our own. When we see violence, it is hard not to want to respond with violence – and maybe, in some cases, this would be the most effective way to, finally, put an end to this sort of violence. (I wish I

knew!) And yet, if Jesus comes from a kingdom that does not fight, that instead embraces love and peace, then can violence, in fact, bring any sort of peace into this world? As a well-loved Martin Luther King, Jr. quote says, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

            Well, I’m not really equipped to say how we can defeat ISIS or eliminate any number of other horrific tragedies of our world. But I can speak a little bit, on this Christ the King Sunday, about how we can work toward that kingdom of love and peace over which Christ rules, in our more immediate context. Or rather, I can let you speak to it. As you may know, this past week, on November 20, we had the 5^th anniversary of signing the covenant that brought these two churches together. So I went back this week and read that document again. I was not yet here when it was created; calling me as your pastor was the first major action that Bethlehem and St. Martin took together as a covenanted congregation. In fact, I read that document as a part of the paperwork that was given to me as I discerned whether I’d like to serve as your pastor. I felt then and still feel today that this covenant is a beautiful description of the kingdom from which Jesus comes, the one he refers to in our Gospel reading today. It was clear to me as I read it the amount of self-awareness and humility that went into it, and how the end goal was not only to seek to be part of God’s peaceable kingdom in this small way, but also to become something bigger and better by being Christ’s body, Christ’s Church, Christ’s kingdom, together. So rather than me standing up here and trying to articulate what Christ’s kingdom might look like here on earth, I’m going to let you describe it, by reading the words that you signed onto five years ago. As I read this, consider whether you feel you have upheld this covenant, as an individual and as a congregation:

            “Believing that God has called our two churches together to common purpose and ministry to the people of the Webster-Penfield area and beyond, we, the congregations of Bethlehem Lutheran Church of Penfield and St. Martin Evangelical Lutheran Church, brothers and sisters to one another and of one Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, covenant and commit ourselves to work together, while honoring and retaining our unique identities and heritage:

            + to build a stronger, more vital community of faithful and joyful disciples of Jesus through our congregations;

            + to actively and publicly witness to God’s love in Jesus;

            + to serve with and for others in the wider community, seeking the common good, letting Christ’s light shine in and through us together, that others may see and join us in giving glory and praise to God.

            And to these ends, we covenant and commit ourselves

            + to pray for each other and our shared and unique ministries;

            + to learn together;

            + to worship together;

            + to play and build relationships with each other;

            + to listen to each other’s concerns, fears, hopes, and dreams;

            + to encourage, inspire, and help one another in discovering, using, and sharing our unique gifts for the ministry of both congregations;

            + to share ideas, ministries, and resources of people, time, facilities, and wealth for outreach with God’s love to the community and beyond;

            + to develop new shared ministries together;

            + to develop and support shared structures and staff to support this;

            + to be open to change;

            + to be flexible with ourselves and one another;

            + to be patient, kind, and gentle with ourselves and with each other;

            + to confess faults and to forgive;

            + to share burdens and disappointments;

            + to be willing to fail, as we try new things; and

            + to celebrate together successes and joys, both shared and individual.

That, my brothers and sisters in Christ, is what the kingdom of God looks like. That is what it looks like when Christ is indeed our king. It is what you describe, how you hope to treat one another here in this congregation and in our partner congregation. I believe that is also how you hope to treat one another in the world. And when we do that, I do believe that we bring a part of Christ’s kingdom here to earth.

In praise and thanksgiving for the work that has already been done toward becoming Christ’s kingdom, and in the hope of the work yet to be done, let us pray… Christ, our King, your kingdom is not of this world, but we do pray that your kingdom might become more apparent in this world, and that you would use us to make that happen. We give you thanks for our covenant with St. Martin/Bethlehem, that it gives us one way to live out your kingdom on a regular basis, and ask that you continue to strengthen that relationship and show us new and exciting ways that it might be used to serve you. All this we pray in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Beginning of the birth pangs (Nov. 15, 2015)

Pentecost 25B

November 15, 2015

Mark 13:1-8

            If you have been on social media or watched the news in the last week or so, then perhaps you are aware that the alleged “war on Christmas” has already begun, in the form of Starbucks coming out with plain red holiday cups instead of cups covered in snowflakes and reindeer. Spurred by one internet personality, a few people have latched onto this critique of Starbucks, and headlines have come out saying, “Some Christians believe Starbucks hates Jesus,” because their cups no longer have wintery, Christmasy pictures on them. Now, last I checked, snowflakes on coffee cups do not Christmas make, nor do reindeer or holly have anything to do with the coming Christ-child, and I think most people, Christian or not, recognize this. Still, it has been interesting to watch social media explode with strong, emotional reactions to this silliness.

This was my favorite response!

            What was so intriguing about the outrage was that, by and large, not very many people are actually worried about the cups themselves, but everyone seems to be interested in reacting to it, because, well, people love a good controversy. To achieve such a good controversy, things are often blown out of proportion – we see this every year when there is a “war” on Christmas. Suddenly, Starbucks’ well-intentioned attempt to offer a simple red canvas on which people can imagine whatever holiday spirit floats their boat becomes a huge ordeal in which the world as we know it is coming to an end.

            I have to wonder, as ridiculous things like this periodically take over news outlets, if the reason people fan the flames on contrived controversy is that it allows us to focus our attention and get out our emotions on something that doesn’t really matter, so that we don’t have to face what is truly troubling our hearts, whether it is deeply personal struggles, or large scale tragedies such as what happened in Paris this week, that make the world just seem so very chaotic. Claiming that Starbucks “hates Jesus” allows us to deny our fears that the Church is no longer a centerpiece of everyone’s life. Declaring a “war on Christmas” is less about coffee cups and more about feeling helpless in the face of legitimate world conflict. We do this even in the mundane ways of our daily lives – a wife may blow up at her husband about how he never puts his socks away, when her real concern is that she feels she’s lost control or her life, and this is one piece that can be tended to. Whether big ways or mundane, people naturally look for some outlet for their deepest emotions, because it is how we manage to make sense of the chaos around us.

            Apocalyptic literature is sort of like that, too. Apocalyptic literature is the category that our reading this morning from Mark falls into. We usually think of this biblical genre as being about how

Destruction of the Jerusalem Temple

the world will end, and generations of Christians have looked at passages like Mark 13 and tried to use them to predict when the world will end and how, but that isn’t really the intention of these writings. They are not some code to break. Really, apocalyptic writings are often an attempt to make sense of the current struggle, chaos, and emotion of our lives.

In the case of Mark 13, it is an answer to the particular struggles faced by the community for which Mark wrote. The Gospel of Mark is supposed to have been written shortly after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in the year 70. So Mark’s community is reeling after that siege and the devastation it left in its wake. Furthermore, they had expected, after the resurrection and ascension, that Jesus would return right away, and yet 40 years have passed since Jesus’ ascension and still nothing. They are losing hope. Their trusted leaders, like Peter and Paul, have, for the most part, died. Other teachers have come, claiming a greater truth and trying to draw these Christians away from Christ toward something they claimed was better, and in the midst of their confusion and lacking hope, it is hard not to be drawn toward them.

Their struggles are not unlike our own, in many ways. Their religious bedrock has been shaken – we, too, sometimes experience a crisis of faith. They expected Jesus to return immediately, but he hasn’t – they feel let down by hopes not fulfilled, something we have all experienced. They lack the guidance they need. They feel drawn toward things that can offer satisfaction, a fix, right now – they’d rather that than keep waiting around for something that doesn’t seem to be delivering in a timely manner. This community’s struggles are our struggles.

With all that in mind, Jesus’ words to the disciples in Mark 13 make perfect sense. They are not so much predictions as reflections on the current reality of the community for whom this Gospel was written. With this writing, that community can say, “Look, Jesus pointed to these things. As devastating as our situation seems right now, we can see that our struggles are a part of a bigger picture.” Now, was that a comfort to them? From our vantage point, it’s hard to say. Jesus’ words in this passage sound so doom and gloom, so hopeless, that it’s hard to imagine that they would hear much good news in them. Jesus even goes so far as to say that all the pain, fear, confusion and frustration that they feel is only the beginning: “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.”

            Ah, but see, I think that is where the good news lies: in relating these current struggles to

those of birth pangs. Maybe it’s because that metaphor suddenly has a very real meaning to me, but viewing the struggles of our lives as birth pangs is laden with good news and potential. Every biological mother has a special birth story to share – sometimes shared with joy, sometimes with pain. In my birth story, I had to wait a long time for it start, two weeks longer than planned. When the labor pains started, they were mostly a discomfort. They woke me from sleep. Of course they got progressively more than a discomfort, and became full on pain. Of course there were brief respites between contractions, at least at first. But as labor progressed, there were no respites. Contractions were rapid fire with hardly a break from the pain between. At the height of the pain, shortly before Grace came out, I finally yelled into my pillow, “I can’t do this!” Yes, that, too, is a part of labor pains, literally and metaphorically. The self-doubt. The readiness to give up. The terrifying realization that there is no way out of this except to first endure more pain. Is that how Jesus’ disciples felt? Is that what Jesus was saying to his disciples? “You think the pain is bad now? You think your struggles now are difficult? Just wait. This will get worse before it gets better.”

            But of course, what comes at the end of all that pain? New life. One of my pastor friends said to me on the day that Michael and I went to the hospital to induce labor that childbirth was one of the most profound experiences of death and resurrection she had ever had. “It is pain with a purpose,” she said. “And at the end, you have this new and abundant life.” I have not forgotten that, and that is why I view Jesus’ words here as good news. “This is but the beginning of the birth pains.” It will get worse before it gets better. The struggles you face now are real, and they are difficult, and there is no easy way out. This feels especially true as we grieve with the world community about attacks and injustices and poverty and too many other tragedies, just as it may feel especially true in your own life as you manage broken relationships, painful memories, and difficult emotional processing. But our faith shows us that these pains are, in the end, birth pangs, and at the other end, God will show you new and abundant life. What that new life looks like, we cannot know – I am sensitive to the fact that not all birth pangs lead to a live birth. Sometimes they lead to a stillbirth, or a miscarriage, and the pain only continues to get worse. But our faith still promises us that eventually, life will come, however that may look. That’s what was promised to us by Christ’s own pain, struggles, death, and ultimate resurrection: that God will always take the pain we face and someday, somehow, turn it into newness of life.

            Let us pray… God of endings and beginnings and everything in between, we sometimes face struggles in which there seems to no end in sight. Give us the courage to be steadfast, to keep our eye on you, and to trust that you will always bring life out of death. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.