Sermon: Let mutual love continue (August 28, 2022)

Full service can be viewed HERE. Sermon begins at 24 minutes.

Pentecost 15C
August 28, 2016
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Luke 14:1, 7-14

INTRODUCTION

Today is one of those times when all four of the readings really complement each other, lifting up very similar themes. Their combined purpose could be summarized by the first line from our reading from Hebrews: “Let mutual love continue.” All four readings will describe some of the specific ways we can live in mutual love as Christians: for example, by practicing humility, selflessness, concern for the other even over yourself, generosity, and hospitality toward strangers –especially, Jesus will tell us, toward strangers who have nothing concrete to offer you in return. 

They all seem like nice enough things, and some even joyful… but not a-one of them is easy! And so, as you listen, watch for some of those ideals of Christian love, and consider what they each look like, practically or metaphorically, in your life – your personal life, your church life, your life as a citizen. Think about how some of these ideals are enacted or embodied as a community, a nation, and as a global neighbor. Let’s listen.

[READ] 

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

My family just returned from a week at the Chautauqua Institution, where I was serving as the chaplain for the Lutheran House. If you have never been to Chautauqua Institution, I encourage you to go. In addition to the world class speakers and performers and the beautiful setting, the sense of community there is unparalleled. It is almost idyllic, where everyone is there to learn and to welcome, where people help one another, and strike up conversations with strangers, and leave their bikes and their doors unlocked. When we arrived Saturday night, frazzled and exhausted, I asked the first person I saw on the porch of the Lutheran House for help, and he immediately asked others to help and started carrying things in from our car. Later that same person and his family made sure we had a comfy seat and a drink in hand to relax on the porch. All of this was not unique – this kindness and love marked the whole week, both among guests at the Lutheran House and out around the grounds. 

It was an embodiment of this opening verse from Hebrews: “Let mutual love continue.” I have been thinking this week about what these words mean and look like in the various facets of my life. I think these four words state the hardest thing about being a Christian. In fact, I think the author of Hebrews is very optimistic to say, “Let mutual love continue” – it implies we already are doing it, and to keep up the good work! Well, I sometimes find loving others to be very easy – and what a joy it is when that happens! – but it is just as often very hard, indeed, especially in these divided times. Though it can be very rewarding, living a life of mutual love is certainly the most challenging aspect of life as a Christian.

What makes it so hard? Well, let’s ask it this way: what is required to “let mutual love continue”? I think a big part of it is one of the major themes in our Gospel reading today, and that is humility. In the Gospel story, Jesus advises not to assume you deserve the highest seat, but rather, sit at the lowest seat and wait to be asked to move up. It’s sort of simplistic advice to our modern ears, and taken literally it isn’t very often applicable to our lives like it would have been to the original audience. But thinking of it more broadly in terms of our relationships with others, especially our Christian, loving relationships with others, it becomes much more poignant and convicting.

Now, it wouldn’t be, if living in Christian community were all rainbows and sunshine all the time. But the thing about living in Christian community is that it is an awful lot like living in a family – and we all know that families, well… don’t always get along. People don’t agree, or get annoyed with one another, or disappoint each other, or don’t meet each other’s expectations. When that happens, when conflict erupts, fighting often follows, and it is in those moments that Jesus’ advice about humility becomes very difficult to hear. Think, if you are gearing up to fight, whether you fight with actions or with words, what is good strategy? Generally, you want to find yourself in the more powerful position, right? You want to do the opposite of Jesus’ suggestion to “take the lowest place,” because that sort of humility is exactly what will cause you to lose the fight! So, when faced with a conflict, we will be inclined to: insist our way is right, disregard others’ opinions and perspectives while we puff up and applaud our own, put others down, whatever we need to do in order to stay in that higher, more powerful position, and be sure that we win the fight.

Humility won’t help that effort at all. No, humility has no place in winning a fight.

But remember, we are not talking about winning a fight. We are talking about living in community, and letting mutual love continue in that community. With that as our goal, we can’t look for a winner, because if there is a winner there is also a loser, and having winners and losers is not the way to remain in community with one another. That is not the way to let mutual love continue.

This is where humility comes in. What if, instead of trying to get to that highest seat at the banquet, we took Jesus’ advice, and sat in a lower seat? What if we listened to the concerns of the other, to what is true for them, and even “tried on” their ideas before disregarding their perspective? What if instead of looking for points about which to say, “You’re wrong!” we looked for ways to say, “I agree with you on that”? What if we made the effort to consider where our own perspectives might not encompass the whole truth? What if we asked for forgiveness when we realize we were wrong?

Suddenly Jesus’ advice isn’t nearly so simplistic. Suddenly it is very challenging. It is not just swallowing our pride and waiting to be invited up to a higher seat, it is actively working at loving someone, at honoring them and their opinions, at viewing them not as a stranger or outsider or enemy, but as an angel whom God placed in your path to show you something about what it means and looks like to live in a mutually loving community.

And that brings me to the second thing that is necessary if we want to “let mutual love continue.” GRACE. Certainly, it is grace for ourselves, because putting ourselves in such a humble position is very vulnerable, very dangerous. You could very well be trampled, especially if both parties don’t agree to be similarly humble with each other. And because we are animals, we often resort to those basic animal “fight or flight” instincts, and we don’t behave like we intended, like God would have liked us to behave. We need to acknowledge that reality, and trust that God will forgive us for those times. We also must have grace for the other, because it is just as hard for them: we are all humans, after all, and we all make mistakes, we all fall short of the glory of God, we all are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves, no matter how hard we try.

But above all, what is required to “let mutual love continue,” is the very grace of God. Today is the 11th anniversary of my ordination. And this has been, for these years of ordained ministry, my most frequent thanksgiving: that in all the ways I fall short of this strange and wondrous calling, all the missteps I take, all the times I didn’t live up to expectations of God, myself, or others – I still walk in the grace of God. Jesus still died for me. Jesus still defeated fear and death for me. Jesus still claimed me in baptism – in fact, 39 years ago today. I still come to worship and get to hear someone say, as they hand me that sacred meal, “The body of Christ, given for you.” For me! For you! God’s grace is given for us!

And with this, God’s amazing grace, I believe that we can let mutual love continue. It still won’t be easy, and it still might be messy at times, and it still requires the hard work of humility and vulnerability and loving honesty with ourselves and with each other. But we can do it, because God’s grace makes it possible. As we continue down this road of living faithfully and loving mutually, that grace of God is all that keeps us afloat. Let us cling to that gift with all that we have and all that we are.

Let us pray… Gracious God, you call us to let mutual love continue, and to be humble in our relationships with others. This is hard work, God! But we give you thanks that you have entrusted this task to us, even as you have given us the grace to work at it. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: When God's grace trumps law (Aug. 21, 2022)

Note: This was preached at the Lutheran House at Chautauqua Institution.

Pentecost 14C
August 25, 2013
Luke 13:10-17

          Who does Jesus think he is, anyway? You know, this is just one more reason to believe that he does not come from God – working on the Sabbath! We have laws for a reason, after all – we can’t have people breaking them willy-nilly. Where does it stop? Today we’re breaking the Sabbath, and tomorrow, what? Do we start taking the Lord’s name in vain? Dishonoring our parents? These are God’s laws, we’re talking about here. This is a really big deal.

         I mean, why would God give us a law that was meant to be broken, huh? Laws are meant to guide our way, to show us how God wants us to live. They are meant to protect and preserve us. But you start breaking one law, and then all laws become more like suggestions, and they lose their power to protect and preserve. It’s a slippery slope, my friends!

         On the other hand…

         Can you imagine viewing the world – for eighteen years – from the waist down? To be so bent over that you can’t see anyone’s face? 

She tried to make the best of her life. She maintained her faith, kept the law, and always went to synagogue on the Sabbath, as the law told her to do. She knew that her God was full of mercy and compassion, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. Perhaps someday, that merciful God would free her from this crippling spirit that made her quite unable to stand up straight. 

         For her, that day in the synagogue was a normal day, a normal Sabbath, the day specifically set aside for holiness and rest. The woman knew her Scriptures – she knew that keeping the Sabbath was linked to two significant stories in her people’s history. It was because of creation, because God rested on the seventh day, and so do we, but it was also because of the exodus. Many years before, her people had been slaves in Egypt, cruelly treated by the Pharaoh, made to work without proper rest, bound in slavery. And God had sent Moses to free them. They followed Moses, out of Egypt and across the Red Sea, leaving their bindings behind. And so God told them, in the book called Deuteronomy, to remember on the Sabbath that while once they were bound as slaves, now they are free.

         The woman clung to that second meaning, the one about freedom. Oh, to be free from this ailment! To be free from this thing that kept her hunched over, unable to see and appreciate the fullness of the world!

         Imagine how she felt, then, when she encountered Jesus that day, when he said to her, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” A part of her was scared – had this man Jesus, this man claiming to be from God, just broken the Sabbath? She did want to be healed, of course, but was the Sabbath the right time to do it? But she also knew that this was exactly right: the Sabbath was about freedom, after all! And she had been bound as a slave to this crippling spirit, and now she was free – so what a way to honor the Sabbath, to keep it holy! She even heard this in Jesus’ next words, “…ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” Yes, Lord, free from bondage! 

Even as she was unsure about whether this was the right time and place, she also knew that she had that day become a living example of the spirit of the Sabbath – a spirit of freedom from bondage, freedom from slavery. And as she stood up straight and saw the world around her for the first time in eighteen years, all she could do was begin praising God – who indeed is full of mercy and compassion, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.

         Today’s Gospel reading gives us two powerful perspectives on law: the indignant synagogue leader who is wary of breaking one law lest we take it as leeway to break all the rest, and the bent over woman, whose healing can be seen as the embodiment of the spirit of freedom that the Sabbath intends. Who is right?

         To be fair, there is validity in both perspectives. The synagogue leader is right: these laws are in place for a reason. They are there to protect and preserve us, to keep us on the right path, and therefore, to lead us toward life. And I think Sabbath is one law in particular that we could take a lot more seriously. For most people, I think when we hear “Sabbath,” we think, “Go to church.” And yes, that’s one thing you can do on the Sabbath to keep it holy. But Sabbath is so much more than that. In today’s story, Sabbath is about release from bondage, about overcoming that which bends us over and makes us unable to see, about freedom to shed what binds us and offer God our unfettered praise. Some of us may have been physically bent over at some point, but my guess is that all of us have been spiritually or emotionally bent over at some point in our lives. We have too much on our plate. We have too many demands on our backs. We have impossible expectations put upon us by friends, family, co-workers, or even ourselves. We are weary, and don’t allow ourselves the rest we need – indeed the rest that God commands.

         Sabbath, then, becomes a life-giving mandate for us, a chance to find release from all these binding and crippling demands of life. A whole day, preferably, but if not that, maybe you need to take Sabbath wherever you can get it: at a red light, perhaps, when you can just take a deep breath and say a prayer for freedom from the weight of the world. Or in those few moments after you wake but before you are out of bed, when you can pray for peace throughout your day.

Sabbath is something we need, and the synagogue leader is right to stand by that need. Where the synagogue leader’s view falls short, however, is that his upholding of the law is only for the letter of the law, and not for the spirit of the law. This is where we can learn something from the woman’s story as well. Our Psalm today, which we used as a Call to Worship, says that God is full of mercy and compassion and abounding in steadfast love, and we would do well to remember that these characteristics of God overarch all laws. In other words, God gives us these laws because God is merciful, compassionate, and loving. And if those laws contradict those values in any way, then the spirit of the law is not being fulfilled. 

What, then, is the spirit of this law? 

With Jesus, grace trumps law. That’s not to say we disregard the law – by no means. Law has its place, to show us the way God wants us to live, to get us outside ourselves and facing God and the needs of our neighbor. But the law always bows to mercy, grace, love, and life. Law helps us know how to live better lives, but grace creates and enables life. Law pushes us to care for each other, but grace catches us when we fall short of that. Sometimes the law is suspended in order to let grace abound, and today’s Gospel is just such a time. In this story, when Jesus breaks the Sabbath law, healing happens, a sinner gives thanks and praise, and a crowd rejoices – because that is what happens when grace invites us to both value the law and also suspend it in the name of mercy, compassion, and love.

         Let us pray. God, you are full of compassion and mercy, and abounding in steadfast love. Help us to value your commandments and live them to the fullest, but help us also to know when we must tend toward grace in order to let your mercy, love and compassion abound in our lives and in the lives of everyone we meet. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Prince of peace, or King of conflict? (Aug 14. 2022)

 Pentecost 10C
August 14, 2022
Jeremiah 23:23-29; Luke 12:49-56, Hebrews 11:29-12:2

INTRODUCTION

Warning: if you are looking for comfort from today’s readings, I’m not so sure you will find it. Jeremiah will describe God’s word as both fire, and a hammer, breaking a rock into pieces. That’s a bit unnerving! But it gets worse – Luke shows us a Jesus who is stressed out, angry, or both, declaring that he came not to bring peace, but division, and wishing fire upon the whole lot. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem at this point, where he knows his death awaits him. His teachings during this section of the Gospel are difficult and urgent, as he knows the end is coming. And today he seems to have a very short fuse; he even tells those gathered that he is stressed out. We will hear him describe a reality which, turns out, may feel very familiar to us, as we grapple with the immense division and hypocrisy we see in our own context. (Side note: do take his words as descriptive, not prescriptive. He is describing a reality, not predicting a future.)

Finally, a word about Hebrews. I mentioned last week that Hebrews as a whole is meant to encourage Christians who are discouraged in faith, and today will continue with that. This text is sometimes called the “Faith Hall of Fame,” as it recounts many of the faithful people you can find in the pages of scripture. If there is any obvious hope to be found today, you will hear it at the end of this text – in some of my favorite verses in scripture! 

As you listen to these difficult texts today, 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.

[READ]

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

My kids love history. And so naturally, we have a children’s board book about all the US presidents. For each president there is a picture, the dates he served, and some fun fact about them. Some of the facts are very trivial and fun – like, Richard Nixon loved jellybeans, and some 40,000 jellybeans were consumed at his inauguration festivities. And some are more serious. For example, Ulysses S. Grant’s fact is that he believed sometimes war is required in order to bring peace.

This Grant fact came to mind as I was studying this week’s texts. They are not comforting texts, for the most part. And they seem out of place in a Gospel that began with Zechariah singing that Jesus was coming to “guide our feet into the way of peace,” and angels singing, “Peace on earth, goodwill to all!” With that in mind, Jesus’ tough words today come as something of a shock. “Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” But… but, what about the angels? What about Zechariah’s song? Jesus stories like this do not sit well. Wouldn’t we all rather hear the stories about healing, and miracles, and all that compassion and mercy Jesus is so well known for? Wouldn’t we like to hear stories about how Jesus makes people’s lives better?

Ah, but you see… this is one of those stories. Jesus and Ulysses Grant are somewhat on the same page about this: sometimes in order to achieve lasting peace, we must first go through a period of great disruption, destruction, or pain. When I say peace, I’m not talking about the sort of peace that comes from denial, or avoidance, or dishonesty, or harmful accommodation. Those things may provide a quick, but fleeting peace for us, which is why we gravitate there (we can agree that closing the blinds and watching something funny on TV can be a helpful escape). But such tactics do not bring lasting peace for us, nor for God’s people more broadly. 

Now I know, Jesus’ delivery here does not really help us to receive his message as readily as we might otherwise. I don’t know about you, but when someone starts raging about bringing fire on the earth, I’m not likely to listen long enough to hear what comes next. But we know and love Jesus, right, so let’s take a look at both Jesus’ words, and with the aid of some of our other readings, try to make sense of this difficult message. 

First, let’s turn to Jeremiah. Jeremiah begins by discerning between false prophets, and the word of God, relating false prophets and their dreams to straw, and the Word of God to the more nourishing and substantial wheat. The two look similar, but only one feeds us. Today’s reading ends with the somewhat ominous, “Is not my word like fire, and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?” Those are both very destructive images, on first reading, but also life-giving ones. Fire can be devastating, yes, but it can also be cleansing. It purifies. It burns away the brush so that new seedlings can grow. It burns away the roughage so that more sunlight can reach the forest floor. As for the hammer image, breaking a rock into pieces is powerful and threatening, but it is also a necessary step in building something new. 

So this all begs the question: do we let the word of God do this for us? Do we let Jesus burn away what keeps the light away from us, so that new things can grow? Do we let the word break apart our hardness, all those defenses we have put up, thinking they will keep us safe? Will we let Jesus burn away what is dead, so that life may flourish? Can the hammer of God’s word break apart our dependance on systems of oppression, our apathy toward thoughtless consumerism, and our indifference to suffering, so that we might instead have hearts full of compassion and mercy, love of neighbor and stranger, and care for the brokenhearted? Some things must die or be destroyed in order for the word of God to take root and grow, but we still cling so closely to what is familiar and comfortable for us, even if it keeps life and peace out of reach. Do we trust God to break in us what needs to be broken?

This image sheds some light on Jesus’ difficult words about him coming to bring division to the earth. Because if it wasn’t scary enough just for us personally to face the destruction and disruption of those things that set a barrier to peace, it is even harder when we realize how it affects our relationships. Truth-telling can be difficult to bear, and we push against it. Disinfecting a wound can cause stinging pain. But the peace that Jesus brings – by fire, or a rock-crushing hammer – will not hesitate to break in order to mend, to cut in order to heal. The Word will name what we don’t want named, and upset the protective shields and structures we have put in place, thinking they will keep us safe and comfortable. The Word will expose the lies we tell ourselves, and will upset all that would keep us from wholeness. 

To be clear, this text is not saying that Jesus wants us to suffer. What he is saying is that the path to peace must sometimes go through suffering to get to its final goal. No one knows that better than Jesus, who was beaten, was crucified, died and was buried, in order to bring about new life and resurrection joy. Yet too often, we choose just to avoid the suffering part, even if it means we never get to the peace – which, of course, is its own suffering! We put off the difficult but important conversations. We don’t speak against a situation that is literally killing people, preferring not to rock the boat. We think this is “keeping the peace” – but peace for whom? Is our avoidance resulting in greater suffering for others? I guess we must ask ourselves: are we more invested in comfort, or in salvation? 

We know that this is the pattern of our faith: that the path to new life and lasting peace must lead through suffering and death. The cross shows us this. Many of our own experiences reflect it. Yet still it can be hard to find the courage to do it. That is where Hebrews comes in. This list of faithful people, the “faith hall of fame,” recounts many exemplars of faith and the incredible feats they accomplished. But it also shows how difficult a life of faith can be. Faith has much to offer – grace, love, wholeness, and yes, peace – but it is also risky, and does not always guarantee our safety or comfort. Yet we can find great comfort in knowing that we are not alone in this effort, to live faithfully. “Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,” the writer of Hebrews declares – a cloud of people from long ago and even from not so long ago, even people around us right now. We can look to this cloud of witnesses for the strength we need, the courage to persevere. “Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, disregarding its shame…” Yes, the greatest strength of all comes from our source and our goal, Jesus Christ himself. He will guide our feet while we run this race. He knows about the division, and the suffering, and the pain. He knows about the shame. And, he knows about the peace and the glory that will come, as he has now “taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.” We, too, are headed for that peace and glory. Let us look to Jesus, and, upheld and surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with perseverance this race that is set before us – and we will, finally, be led into the way of peace.

Let us pray… Prince of Peace, we long to come by peace quickly and easily. But we know it was not easy for you. Surround us with a cloud of witnesses to give us the strength and courage to persevere toward the goal of peace, even when it leads us through the conflict and division we’d rather avoid. Make us confident that as long as you are involved, peace and new life will follow. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Faith and hope in the impossible (Aug. 7, 2022)

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Pentecost 9C
August 7, 2022
Genesis 15:1-6; Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16; Luke 12

INTRODUCTION

The first and second readings today complement each other so well, I just couldn’t help preaching on them! So as much as I like Luke, I’m going to focus this introduction on their context.

First, the story about Abram. As you may remember from Sunday School, Abram, later Abraham, was promised many times by God that he would be the father of a great nation, and yet at 100 years old he and his wife Sarai were still childless. In today’s text, Abram really starts to doubt, and wonders if maybe this heir God has been promising him will end up being his servant, Eliezer. But God assures him once more that the promise will be fulfilled, in a beautifully mystical expression of that promise. 

This moment is so important, in fact, that the writer of Hebrews will pick it up centuries later. As a whole, the book of Hebrews aims to bring encouragement to discouraged Christians, urging them to persevere in faith. In today’s reading, the author uses the story of Abraham and Sarah to show how God has been and will be faithful, even when it seems impossible. 

All of our texts are about what it means to have faith, even in the face of discouragement. As you listen, think about a time in your own life when you have found it difficult to keep the faith, when God’s promises seemed too big, too impossible, and what it was like to try hold onto that faith anyway. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

We have a wonderful children’s book called If You Want to See a Whale. The child narrating gives advice on what you need to do if you want to see one of these incredible creatures: not too comfy a chair, don’t get too distracted by very small or very pink-and-pretty things, and be prepared to wait, and wait, and wait… At the end of the book, as this small child sits in his rowboat in the ocean, the reader sees an enormous blue whale come up underneath the boat, and poke his nose out of the water. The excitement gets me every time!

Of course, anyone who has been whale-watching knows, there can be a lot of waiting, and not many sightings, and sometimes, the trip ends and that whale never did poke his gigantic nose out of the water. 

Faith can sometimes be like that, can’t it? You pray, you wait, you pray some more, you read your Bible looking for answers, you pray some more… but you just have to wait and wait until you see some response from God, and sometimes, the response never seems to surface.

            That’s why Abraham is the classic biblical model of faith; we see the height of both his doubt and his faithfulness in today’s short reading. Abraham (at this point, still Abram) speaks to God in distress, reminding God that while He promised Abram many descendants, here Abram remains, growing old in years and still childless. Abram is getting worried. He has been waiting for that proverbial whale to show up for so long already, and it’s getting to be too late; and he is losing hope, and tells God so. Amazingly, God does not rebuke him for this. Instead, God assures him, “Don’t you worry, Abe. I’ve got this. Your own flesh and blood will be your heir, not your servant.” Then to prove his point, he takes Abram out into the starry, starry night and says, “Look at all those stars. That’s how many descendants you will have – more than you can even count.”

            And then I think the most unbelievable statement in the Old Testament: “[Abram] believed the Lord, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.” Abram believed! When there was no reason in the world to believe, beyond God’s word, Abram believed. God said it would happen, and so Abram believed.

            Faith. As much as I want to cling to it, to believe like Abram, even when the promise seems utterly unbelievable… I sometimes feel more like Abram at the beginning of the story, rather than the end. It can be hard to keep being faithful when there is no hope in sight: when conflict between individuals or groups or countries cannot be resolved; when climate change brings deadly floods and blistering temperatures; when the illness doesn’t respond to treatment; when despair keeps creeping into our hearts, leaving us breathless and hopeless.

            Into this heartbreak and discouragement come these words from Hebrews: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” They are salve to a wounded heart – encouragement to continue hoping, encouragement that, although it may not result in just what we had planned, nor when we had planned it, our hoping will ultimately not be in vain.

Some years back, during Vacation Bible School at my previous call, the kids were raising money to help build a well that would provide fresh water to a place that doesn’t currently have access. One day, as we wrapped up for the day, one of our preschoolers came up to me, very distraught. She had conflated Jesus’ story with the building of a well, and thought that Jesus had fallen into the well and couldn’t get out! Through tears she told me how concerned she was about Jesus. I told her, “Jesus is so good, he will win every single time! Even when he died, he came back to life – nothing can beat him! Even if he did fall into a well, he would be just fine.” She was unconvinced. I gave her a hug, which seemed to help. But I was struck how fear and worry begin even at this early age: even when we do have faith, it is hard to hold onto hope when life seems dismal. In this 4-year-old’s world, the situation was hopeless: that well was so deep, so how would Jesus survive it? But Hebrews invites us to hold onto hope even when things do seem impossibly bad.

But Hebrews is not only about encouragement to keep hoping. I read these compelling words from Hebrews also as a challenge, urging us not just to quietly hope in our hearts, but to get in there and do something about it: to give money to build a well, to call your representative with your ideas for climate justice, to speak words of love into a world of hate, to listen to those in pain without judgment, to support and be present with someone who is stuck in that dark place. Sometimes it looks like kindness, sometimes like prayer for both victims and for perpetrators. Sometimes it looks like educating yourself about both sides of an issue and then speaking aloud a difficult truth, and sometimes it looks like getting physically and emotionally involved in a cause that is important to you. Whatever it is, I believe that hope has the power to motivate us, to move us, and to change us.

            Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Faith is actively watching for the whales, even when it seems unlikely they will ever show up. Faith is not an “out,” not a reason to say, “Oh, God’s got this under control, so I’ll just sit back and wait.” No, faith is understanding that God might be using us to bring about the kingdom promised to us in our Gospel lesson, when Jesus tells us, “Have no fear, little flock, for it is the Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” It’s hard to believe it, sometimes, when that kingdom seems so far off in the distance. And indeed, we may not see the fullness of God’s promises in this lifetime – as Hebrews points out, Abraham and Sarah didn’t! But hold fast to hope, my friends: God might be using us to share that news with others, or to get out there and call out injustice, and work for peace, or to share love and kindness instead of hate. God might be using us in any number of ways, but as we act for and with God, we catch glimpses of those promises, and we are also assured that someday, somehow, the fullness of God’s kingdom will come, and God will win. The whales will appear. Jesus will get out of the well. Love will prevail. Meanwhile, we continue to live in the assurance of things we hope, to be convicted in the things we don’t yet see. God be with us as we live in this hope and this faith. God will bring the new life for which we yearn.

Let us pray… Faithful God, when life seems dismal, grant us faith: assurance in your promises, hope in the things we cannot see, and conviction to work to bring about the kingdom you have chosen to give us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Sermon: Minimalism and being rich toward God (July 31, 2022)

 I suggest watching this sermon, because the meat of it is in what Becca responded to my questions - which is not included here! The interview begins around 35 minutes.

INTERVIEW

Here's my text:

Pentecost 8C/Proper 13C
July 31, 2022
Luke 12:13-21 

INTRODUCTION

      “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!” exclaims the writer of Ecclesiastes. And some days, I can’t say I disagree! We work and toil so hard during this life, and sometimes don’t you just stand back and think, “What is it all for? We work so hard, and for what? Just to die and leave it all behind?”

      That’s exactly what seems to happen in the parable Jesus tells today, known as “the rich fool.” Jesus frames it as a parable about greed – which, if we’re honest, is often exactly what drives us to work so hard! A desire for more and more stuff and success! Yet, as Paul’s letter to the Colossians will tell us, we ought to instead “seek the things that are above,” and “set [our] minds… not on things that are on earth.” But how do we do that, when the things that are on earth are the ones looking us in the face all the time? Apparently this was as difficult for generations far past as it is still for us. We are still tempted to put our trust not in God, but in the things that we can see right now, right here before us, thinking that they can provide us what we need, what we crave.

      These are the questions our readings today will wrestle with, and I suspect they are questions we all wrestle with, even daily. So as you listen, I hope you will also wrestle. Notice what sounds like a balm to your troubled heart, and what feels more like a piece of rough sandpaper, or even a spear. Let your heart be in conversation with these texts, as we grapple together with these difficult and still so timely questions. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

It’s hard to hear this parable and not think about minimalism. It’s a hot topic these days, one that encompasses not only decluttering, but living a simpler life in general. Most of the work around minimalism, though, is more secular in nature. But reading texts like today’s shows us that owning fewer possessions is a decidedly Christian principle. In today’s story, we see just how passionate Jesus is about the danger so much stuff poses to our well-being, our relationship with God, even our basic morality. You see, we might think that money and possessions are morally neutral, but this was a favorite topic of Jesus: he talks more about money and stuff than anything else, other than the kingdom of God. Today is one such example.

So, I wanted to dig into the topic of minimalism with you today, with an expert. We are lucky to have as our guest today a dear friend of mine, the Rev. Dr. Becca Ehrlich. In 2018 Becca and her husband Will started a journey of living more simply, including getting rid of 60% of their possessions, in an effort to find the perfect balance that allows for reduced stress and abundant life. Becca writes for a blog called “Christian Minimalism,” leads workshops on the topic, and recently published a book entitled Christian Minimalism: Simple Steps for Abundant Living. I’ve asked Becca if I could interview her about Christian minimalism, in light of today’s Gospel reading. Welcome, Becca!

To start, tell us a bit about how you and Will got into minimalism in the first place, and especially how this became a central part of how you live out your faith.

• Now let’s get to the text. Jesus starts off this parable by warning us to “be on [our] guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” The second part seems an obvious connection to minimalism, but I’m interested in the first part. What do you think Jesus means here by “greed” and how does minimalism offer a counter to that?

• In the parable, God tells the rich man that his life is being demanded of him this very night. I think we usually take this to mean that he’s gonna die that night. But I think it also means that God is demanding our lives here and now – not just on Sunday mornings, but in the way we live all aspects of our lives, even aspects concerning money and stuff! Would you speak to how minimalism has helped you with that?

• Jesus also says, “one’s life does not consist of possessions,” I take that to mean, “your stuff is not what will bring you the life you crave” – that is, the sort of abundant life and joy and freedom we crave right now. So with that in mind, I wondered: how has your dedication to living a more minimalist lifestyle brought you to life? What new life have you found through this practice, and how has it changed your relationship with God?

Becca, thanks so much. I suggested at the beginning of this interview that many of us think money and stuff are morally neutral. You have shown us today that our relationship with our possessions (and yes, we do have a relationship with them!) is of great spiritual consequence, not at all morally neutral. 

I love where Jesus ends it, suggesting that rather than being rich for ourselves, like the rich fool in the parable, we strive to be rich toward God. When we can let go of our trust in stuff, and put our trust with God where it rightly belongs, then we find the joy, abundance, and freedom that we crave! That is life, and that “richness toward God” is indeed the only richness that we will keep. 

Let us pray… Bountiful God, you have given us so many gifts, both physical and spiritual, that bring us joy. But sometimes we let all the other stuff in our lives take our attention away from you. Set our minds on things from above, that we would, in all things, be rich toward you. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.