Sunday, August 25, 2019

Sermon: Sabbath for freedom (August 25, 2019)


Pentecost 11C (Proper 14)
August 25, 2019 (VBS Sunday)
Luke 13:10-17

INTRODUCTION
The theme to watch for in today’s readings is: sabbath, the 4th commandment (“remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy”), and what sabbath means for a life of faith. First Isaiah gives us a sense of what God desires from a sabbath, which is different from how people were practicing it. He talks about how people were “trampling the sabbath,” pursuing their own interest and well-being on that day rather than serving others. Then Luke will illustrate that point further, defining what is the purpose of the sabbath, in the fourth of five stories in which Jesus heals someone on the sabbath. So before we get too far into this, let’s remember what we already know about sabbath. Here’s a little quiz: do you remember what is the rationale behind keeping the Sabbath? [God rested on the 7th day.] Right, God did it, so we should too. It’s a day of rest, a day we don’t work. That’s what Genesis and Exodus tell us. BUT, for a bonus point: the 10 commandments also appear in Deuteronomy. Anyone know what the rationale for sabbath is there? The explanation there says, “Remember that you [the Israelites] were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.” See here, the Sabbath isn’t so much about rest as it is about redemption, about freedom. “Remember that I am the God who frees you from what holds you captive,” God says, and implied then is, “On the Sabbath, use this time to remember how I free you.”
         So as you listen to today’s readings, think about freedom, considering what it is that holds you captive – physically, spiritually, or emotionally. And think about what sabbath freedom would look like in these captivities. Let’s listen.
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         Can you imagine being bent over for 18 years? What a powerful image that is: a woman “bent over and quite unable to stand up straight.” There are a lot of reasons I love the story we hear today from Luke’s Gospel, but one of them is that I find that bent over image to be such a meaningful one, because it is a position with which I am myself very familiar – physically and emotionally. So many things cause us to feel bent over. For example, if you have a horrible stomach cramp, what do you do? You bend over. Pain, in heart or body, makes us bend over. If you’re standing near a soccer field and you hear, “Watch out!” what do you do? Duck and cover your head. Feeling unsafe makes us bend over. If you are overwhelmed by life and can’t bear one more thing, what do you do? If you’re like me, you curl up in the fetal position on the couch or in bed and cover your head with a blanket! We bend over! We bend over to protect ourselves from the struggles of the world. Bending over, physically or emotionally, is a natural response to all manner of pain and fear.
It is natural, but when we do this, what happens to our sightline? We can’t see anything except ourselves. And when we can only see ourselves, we lose the ability to make genuine human connection, to see other’s needs, or really even to clearly see our own. Martin Luther has a wonderful phrase for this: incurvatus in se. It’s Latin for “curved in on yourself,” and it’s his definition for sin. When we are curved in on ourselves, we see only our needs, our wants, our perspectives. We become slaves to these things, and so we neglect the needs and the offerings of what is outside of ourselves – our neighbors, and of course, God.
         This past week in Vacation Bible School, we learned about the story of the Good Samaritan, and what it means to be a neighbor. On Tuesday and Wednesday, we explored why those first two people might not have wanted to stop and help, and one reason we came up with was: they were scared. So, Wednesday’s theme was, “Fear not!” The song we sang was, “Be bold, be strong, for the Lord your God is with you!” and while we sang, we stood like this [demonstrate]: head up, back straight, a posture of boldness and courage to face the world and whatever troubles it may bring, to us or to our neighbors. We started doing it sort of on a whim, but the more we did it, the more I liked it. Because, tempting as it may be to revert to that curved in position that we think offers us comfort and protection, putting our heads up like this is really the only way to walk forward through our own pain, and certainly the only way to see the needs of the world. It is the only way for us to step out and into our call to love and serve the world as God has loved us.
         Speaking of walking forward through pain… it wasn’t all that long ago that Michael and I were teaching babies how to walk. Do you remember teaching someone to walk? How they first stand, clutching a piece of furniture with dimpled knuckles, their head hanging down to look at their feet, trying to understand this new posture that is so different from sitting or crawling. Eventually, the head comes up, and they start to look where they are going – and their face bursts into a grin as they begin to understand this new way of travel that has so much more to offer than crawling. The child’s loving adult stands before them with outstretched arms, smiling and encouraging, and ready to catch them when they tumble. Eventually, the child learns to trust those arms, let go of the furniture, and toddle with uncertain steps that grow stronger and more confident each day. Eventually, they are no longer captive to their hands and knees and the furniture. Eventually, they are free.
Friends, Jesus holds these trustworthy arms out to us, beckoning us into freedom. Jesus sees us, even when we don’t see him, even when our heads are too bent down from our suffering, our pain, our captivity, too bent down to see him offering his healing, love and grace. Jesus sees us, and Jesus reaches out to us, offering us the very essence of the Sabbath: the knowledge that God frees us from sin, frees us from captivity, frees us from all that would keep us bound.
And an amazing thing happens when we are free, when our heads are lifted and our backs straightened out: suddenly, we can see the world around us, not through our captivities, but through the eyes of our freedom.
One touching moment sticks in my mind from when Grace was learning to walk, when she first discovered this freedom. One day, I was very upset about something that had happened, and I came home and sat on the couch weeping, head in hands. I was bent over in pain and sadness. Grace toddled over to me carefully, holding the furniture, and gently touched me. I looked at her and she grinned at me and said something in baby gibberish, and engaged me in a game. Suddenly, my head was up, and I was laughing. This small human, with her head held high, was able to extend the most basic form of empathy, of compassion, to someone in need. When she wasn’t captive to her hands and knees and her hanging head, she could reach out to love and serve.
This is the amazing thing about the freedom the Sabbath offers us, the freedom the gospel offers us, the freedom that God through Christ offers us. No longer bound by our ailments, we can lift up our heads, look around the world, praise God, and be the servants that God has called us to be, loving and serving the world. Thanks be to God.
         Let us pray… Freeing God, it is so tempting for us to curl into ourselves, even though we know this is not a posture of freedom and service. Help us to lift up our heads and put our trust in you, so that we might live into the freedom you offer us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Sermon: Peace follows conflict (August 18, 2019)


Pentecost 10C (Proper 13)
August 18, 2019
Luke 12:49-56

INTRODUCTION
         Question for you: how many of you find comfort in your faith? … How many of you find comfort in the words of Scripture? …
         Yes, yes, sometimes both of those things are indeed very comfortable, but if that’s the case for you, I’ve got some bad news for you today… today’s texts are not so comfortable. In Jeremiah, God says God’s word – the very word you just said brings you comfort – comes like a fire, and like a hammer breaking a rock in pieces. Not exactly what I’m looking for when I seek comfort!
         But wait, it gets worse. While we get a respite in our wonderful Hebrews text, which goes through a litany of people of faith over the generations who have trusted in God and culminates with this powerful statement: “Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus!” … while that gives us a bit of courage, then we get to Luke, where we’ll hear Jesus say these troubling words: “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”  Now that is definitely not something that brings me comfort!
         Readings like these can rattle us, but also, in naming a difficult reality, they can also help us look more deeply at the struggles we face. So as you listen, lean into these difficult words. Notice what they stir up in you. Notice how and why they feel uncomfortable to you. And we’ll see what I can do in the sermon about finding some good news to bring to that discomfort. Let’s listen.
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         Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
When I do premarital counseling with couples, we always spend some time on conflict resolution. I ask if they ever fight, and what it looks like for them when they do, and if they ever saw their parents fight, and did they ever see the resolutions of those fights. Whenever a couple answers, “Oh, we never fight, and neither did my parents!” I see it as a big red flag! Though it’s not entirely a surprise for someone to say that. We do spend a lot of energy avoiding conflict, don’t we? There are certain topics that are off-limits in polite company or family gatherings. Fighting happens behind closed doors where the kids can’t hear it. We just do our best to all get along, and not rock any boats. Conflict is best to be avoided.
But then along comes Jesus, who came to bring fire to the earth and wishes it were already kindled, who talks of the divisions he will bring between people who are supposed to love one another! For a society that celebrates those who put out fires, and one that goes to great lengths to keep the peace and be polite, these words from Jesus are pretty jarring! Where is the good news?
When Michael and I were on our honeymoon, we went to Muir Woods, just outside of San Francisco. This is a large, preserved area of California coastal redwoods: these mammoth trees, the largest living things on earth, and some of the oldest – some of them have been around since Jesus walked the earth!  Part of what allows them to live so long is not only that they have thick bark that protects them from fire, but also that fire is actually essential for their reproduction. First, the fire clears out some the shade-loving and less durable species around the redwood, plants which would otherwise crowd out the little sequoia seedlings and prevent them from thriving. Second, fire dries out the cones, which allows the seeds to escape and germinate. You see, for redwoods, fire is necessary for new life to thrive. Fire is so essential to the survival of these giant trees, in fact, that our diligent attempts at fire prevention have actually threatened the trees’ survival, and now the National Park Service has had to begin controlled burns, starting fires, forcing them to rip through the forest and cause the necessary damage, so that the necessary growth can follow.
With that in mind, the fire that Jesus talks about starts to look a little less threatening. In a forest of redwoods, fire cleanses, and it brings new life. This is what we expect from a relationship with Jesus, is it not? Jesus’ fire, his “baptism,” as he calls it, destroys that junk that builds up in our hearts, all that stuff that keeps us from having a close relationship with Christ – the negative self-talk, the distraction, the worry, the focus on things and activities that are not of God. Jesus’ fire clears out the rubbish and helps us focus on God. And, of course, it lets all those little seedlings grow, and brings us new life – newness and transformation of our ways that we may never even have noticed needed to happen, if a fire had not ripped through our hearts.
Now, I think transformation like that is pretty good news, pretty hopeful… but honestly, it doesn’t make the fire that Jesus is trying to kindle any less scary, no less disruptive, no less dangerous. It sometimes leads to difficult self-work, self-discovery, that can be painful for us, as well as for those who have gotten used to us being a certain way, and now we are different. Fire, and the change it causes, is wonderful and important, but also difficult for all involved. In fact, as he says, this fire will cause division. This gets into that conflict piece, that conflict that we humans so desperately try to avoid. We avoid it by telling white lies (or even lies that aren’t really so white), or by flat out ignoring it (and hence letting it fester), or by internalizing it and blaming ourselves. Sometimes we even avoid one conflict that we don’t want to deal with by starting another one that we do know how to deal with – I can’t fix the issue at my workplace, but I can yell at my kids for not cleaning their room. Oh, we humans are very clever about avoiding conflict, aren’t we?
That must be why Jesus tells us that he has come not to avoid or skirt conflict and division, but to bring it about: he knows that as long as we avoid it, or stuff it deep down in our hearts, we will not find true peace.
When she was serving as the assistant to the bishop, Jessica Crist, now Bishop of Montana Synod, reflected on her work in the synod office. A large part of that position is what she calls “putting out fires” in the church, something she fancied herself to be pretty good at. But then upon reading this text, she realized: Jesus is the one setting some of those fires in the church! She writes, “Talk about a disconnect! I guess that I am probably as guilty as the next person of making God in my own image, of designing a Jesus whom I can fully comprehend. A Jesus who puts out fires sounds pretty sweet to me, pretty compatible, pretty comfortable, pretty useful. But that’s not the Jesus of the Gospel.”
So, then who is the Jesus of the Gospel? Again, at first reading, this stressed out, judgmental, fire wielding Jesus that suddenly appears in Luke chapter 12 may seem to come out of nowhere. But if we look elsewhere in Luke, we will see that he has been there all along.
Back when Mary found out she was pregnant with Jesus, she sang a song, in which she talked about how the high would be brought low, the hungry filled and the rich sent away empty. That’s disruptive, table-turning stuff! Then in chapter 4, in his very first sermon, Jesus says, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Well that sounds fine, good, even, until you realize: release of the captives is likely to upset some folks! Are they not in captivity for a reason? Letting the oppressed go free is great for the oppressed, but what about those who have benefited from their oppression – like those of us who buy clothes made in sweatshops because they are cheap? Do I want the oppressed to go free if it means I can no longer get a pair of jeans for under $50? The people listening knew how disruptive this was – it wasn’t too long after this sermon that Jesus nearly got himself thrown off a cliff by an angry mob!
Jesus’ mission, you see, brings about change and, yes, conflict in our safe, comfortable, often self-serving lives. With Jesus’ fire on the loose, we cannot maintain a status quo in which people remain hungry, or live in the midst of constant war, or endure daily bullying. But in order for those things to change, people are going to get upset. There will be conflict. There will be division – in our families, in our work places, in our country. There has to be. But after that conflict and division, if we are able to look honestly and humbly at what happened and be open to the transformation it can bring – that is the time when true peace can be realized.
Conflict is necessary to find peace. Discomfort and division are often a step in the journey toward better life. A forest fire clears away the roughage and offers new seedlings a chance to survive, giving new life to the trees. Conflict, division, and fire: these things are necessary for change, for transformation, for development – and if there is one thing that Scripture and experience teach us, it is that God loves us too much to let us stay the same.
Let us pray: Transforming God of love: We avoid conflicts and fires in our lives because they can be very painful. Grant us the courage to face them, and through them bring to the world and to each of us the hope of transformation and new life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.