Sermon: Storms in the in-between (June 23, 2024)

Pentecost 5B
June 23, 2024
Mark 4:35-41

INTRODUCTION

Today’s readings, all three plus the Psalm, share some prominent themes: in particular, a lot of storm and water imagery, and a need to trust God in the midst of hardship. We begin with the classic story of overcoming suffering: Job. In case you aren’t familiar with Job’s story, Job is a righteous man who falls victim to a dirty trick by the devil, who tries to convince God that Job isn’t so righteous. Job endures many trials – death of his whole family and livestock, sores and boils, and more – and his friends try to comfort him by explaining the pain, but to no avail. Job gets frustrated, but remains faithful. Finally, God speaks – that’s what we will hear today – and God doesn’t try to explain anything. Instead, God gives Job reason to trust him. 

The Apostle Paul will likewise recount some of the sufferings the Corinthian community has endured, finally assuring them that God is always working for our salvation. 

And finally, the story of the stilling of the storm in Mark. In Mark’s Gospel we often see Jesus breaking down barriers and crossing thresholds, and today’s story is definitely an example. Jesus begins by saying, “Let’s go to the other side,” in this case, away from the relatively safe land of Israelite country, to the Gentile territory across the lake. And in that liminal space between, they encounter a storm – as we so often do in liminal spaces! Yet here, too, Jesus proves he can be trusted. 

And that’s really the big point of today’s texts: that God is trustworthy, whatever trials we may be facing. As you listen, think about what metaphorical storms you are facing right now, or what in-between spaces you are living in, and hear God’s Word reminding you to trust, and commanding your heart to have peace and be still. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

“Let’s go across to the other side.” Jesus utters these words at the beginning of today’s reading so nonchalantly, we may miss their weight in the narrative. But if we zoom out a bit, we can see what a big hairy deal they are.

Jesus has already made quite a splash (pardon the pun). He has performed many miraculous healings, including some on the sabbath. He has said and done plenty of things that have upset the authorities – in fact, they are already “conspiring to destroy him.” And he has begun teaching through parables about the kingdom of God, and about a life of faith. 

No sooner has he finished his most recent parable than he suggests, in the evening of all times, when the sea is the most prone to sudden storms, that they hop in a boat and leave this relatively safe country and head across the sea to the land of the Gerasenes, Gentile country. So we’ve got several red flags here: 1) on this shore, Jesus has dropped some bombshells on the current religious establishment, bombshells that call norms into question and disrupt their status quo; 2) this group of guys Jesus has only recently assembled to be his disciples will be going together in a boat across a sea known to whip of dangerous storms at night, and 3) they are heading to an unknown territory that is potentially inhospitable to Jews like them. 

You might call this a high anxiety situation. I mean, this is a super stressful story.

Now, we know a thing or two about stress, about anxiety, and its effects, right? For example, we know that we are not usually our best selves when we are stressed or anxious. We often lose sight of things we normally value or know to be true because we go into survival mode, and surviving becomes our most important value. And, we do not typically interpret others’ actions very charitably, but instead tend to assume everyone is out to get us. Maybe we snap at our family members and blame them for our stress at work, even though they have nothing to do with it – because surely it is this pair of shoes they didn’t put away, that I just tripped on, that is the problem here! Don’t you care about my safety? Don’t you care about my sanity? (Anyone else? No? Just me?) 

Well, shoes or not, we see this behavior in the disciples. Into this already anxious situation, sure enough “a great windstorm arose, and waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.” And where was Jesus, the guy who had the brilliant idea to go for a sail at night? Asleep on a cushion?! (I love that he is on a cushion, by the way – like, he’s not just sleeping, but he is comfortable while everyone else is fearing for their lives!) And we see the anxious and frazzled disciples leap into action: “What gives, dude? You’re sleeping? Don’t you even care that we are perishing?” Out comes the survival mode, the stress response, the blaming, the accusing, the assumptions about others’ intentions. “Don’t you even care that we are suffering here?” Even Jesus is not immune to the way that humans spiral into the worst versions of themselves in the midst of stress.

Oh, this scene reminds me so much of humans in relationship today. This is us at home, it is us at work, it is us as a country, and yes, it is even us in the Church. We see it a lot, because this is a stressful, anxious time we are living in. And so, on the national stage we see a country in which pretty much everyone feels like we’re in survival mode – albeit for different reasons – and in our high-stress context, all we can do is yell and disagree and blame and make assumptions. In our families, where we are supposed to experience unconditional love, we instead dump our stress on the people who we know are safe, who we hope won’t leave us, but consequently we strain or damage these most important relationships. And in the Church, we see the writing on the wall that the Church is not what it once was – congregations are dwindling in number, Church is no longer the priority it once was… in short, things are changing – and trying to make the changes necessary to keep the Church relevant in the changing world, and to survive, and hopefully even thrive, can be incredibly painful and can cause conflict to erupt, beloved members to leave, pastors to burn out, and so on. Whether at church, at home, at work, or online, “Don’t you even care?” becomes an easy way to release some of the anxiety. “Because if you really cared about me/ this country/ this family/ this church, you would see that we are suffering, and you would change, or you would do something about it! Don’t you even care?”

In the Gospel story, Jesus already is doing something about it: he is taking them to the other side, to a different shore, to try some things differently. But this story isn’t about the other side. It is about getting there, to the other side. It is about the in-between place: the place where we can still look longingly at a past, that formerly solid ground that used to be so good, before everything started to change. This story is about the in-between place where we can kind of see what is ahead but not clearly enough to fully visualize it, or for it to feel real to us. This story is about the place that is dark, and far too prone to storms whipping up without a moment’s notice, where we feel unsteady on our feet, where we long for something stable, where we worry for our safety. This is a story about a boat full of people trying to be faithful and to survive on the chaotic sea.

And where is Jesus in all this? Well, it was Jesus who led them right into this storm. He did not let them avoid the difficult conversations, the trying situation, the painful self-reflection and self-reckoning that makes the ground feel so unstable. The sea in between this shore and that is unstable and unpredictable, but it is also necessary for our faith to grow stronger, for us to learn what it is to trust. In response to their cries, Jesus awakens, and says to all that stress and anxiety plaguing their hearts, all those waves threatening their lives: “Peace! Be still!” They don’t abandon ship. They don’t turn around and go back. They keep going, toward the uncertain future, but now, now, they know a little more of what it is to trust God in the midst of the storm. 

When they thought God didn’t care, when they assumed a sleeping Jesus was an uncaring Jesus, the storm on the way in between shores seemed insurmountable. But in three words, Jesus shows them that God has been bringing order out of chaos since the beginning of time, and is still doing it for us today, as we travel in-between. When Jesus orders the chaos into stillness, the storm into peace, when our stress response is calmed, then we can hear the voice of the Lord, emerging from the whirlwind, calling us forward into a new life.

Let us pray… Caring God, we would rather stay in the safety of what is known, even if it isn’t what is best. Don’t give up on us – keep calling us into the storm, and when we are there, unstable on our feet, help us to trust that you are with us. Until we make it to shore, still the anxiety in our hearts, so we can better see what you are doing in us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: Mystery, process, and the kingdom of God (June 16, 2024)

Pentecost 4B
June 16, 2024
Mark 4:26-34

INTRODUCTION

Pop quiz: what does Jesus talk about more than anything else in the Gospels? [kingdom of God] But describing something so vast and multilayered is impossible to do in a straightforward way. It’s like asking you to describe the color blue. “Well, it’s like the sky, but blue isn’t the sky. It’s like the ocean, but blue isn’t the ocean.” That is what we see Jesus doing today – describing the kingdom of God using little stories called parables that capture some aspect of the kingdom of God. A parable is more than a story with a lesson, more than an analogy or allegory. It’s a story or illustration that places side-by-side two unrelated things to challenge our expectations and make us think more deeply about things we thought we knew. So our first reading today from Ezekiel presents an image of God’s kingdom that makes sense to us – majestic cedar trees – but the parables Jesus tells liken the kingdom of God to an ordinary seed with an ordinary crop, which we would not expect. 

  I also want to say a little something about that phrase, “kingdom of God.” A kingdom sounds like a place, right? In fact, what place do you usually think of? [Heaven.] But the Greek word there is more dynamic. It refers to something active, more like a reign or rule, not a static location. So, the kingdom of God is not a place, but a reality, in which God is the ruler, rather than earthly powers. And so, when we act as God would have us do, and treat people with the love of God, we are living in God’s reign or rule. Lutherans like to talk about the kingdom of God as “already and not yet” – it hasn’t fully come to be (we know this because of how much pain still exists in the world), but already we can see glimpses of it, when we see people living according to God’s rule. As we will see in our parables, this reign is not something we can bring about nor prevent, but we can participate in it, live in that “already,” and in that participation, we just might make God’s reign more visible. Let’s see what we can learn.

[READ]

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

In the past couple years, I have become a voracious reader. At any given time, I might be reading or listening to 8 or 9 books, at least half of them fiction. Through reading, I have gained a richer sense of the power of stories to help us grow in understanding, empathy, and compassion, to open our minds to new ideas, and generally to inspire us to live better lives. 

It is no surprise to me that Jesus preferred to teach about the kingdom of God through stories rather than facts. I have a good friend who is a committed atheist. She often posts anti-religious things on Facebook, and I like to engage her and challenge her. Pretty consistently I find that she pushes against religion’s lack of factual support, and the idea that if God is by definition a mystery we cannot understand, that must just mean humans are “too ignorant” to be effective. She cannot get on board with a way of life that lacks the certainty of facts and the scientific method. On the one hand, I get that – facts and science feel really safe and good to our post-enlightenment hearts and minds. For the most part, we can count on them, even as we can continuously strive to keep testing and learning and knowing. 

But Jesus doesn’t use facts to describe the kingdom of God, the most central concept and purpose of the faith. Instead, he uses stories, just as the people of Israel had been doing for generations before him. Facts can be refuted and disproved – it used to be a fact that the earth was flat, and that the earth was the center of the universe. But stories – stories can continually be turned around and interpreted and seen anew with each passing generation, and because they never claimed to be facts, they can’t be refuted. New truths and understanding can emerge depending on who is reading it, and when, and why, and to whom. Stories are a much more dynamic lens through which to see the world – and a much better suited tool for seeking understanding about the dynamic kingdom of God.

Take our first parable today, about the seed that is planted and grows while the gardener sleeps. At first glance, it is fairly boring and benign. A gardener plants a seed, and it grows, and it is harvested. (Anyone want to jump on the movie rights for that epic tale?) But as is often the case with parables and stories, once we sit with them and in them for a bit, new understanding starts to emerge. Here is what happened when I sat in this parable this week.

First, it invited me into mystery. That’s a word pastors love to throw around – whenever I asked my pastor dad a question about faith to which he didn’t know the answer, he would respond, “It’s a mystery!” 

But we like to know things, right?! And this day and age, we should be able to know things, to explain things, to understand them. God as mystery is a difficult pill to swallow sometimes. And yet Jesus says it plainly here: “the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.” At first, I skipped right over this line, because today, we do know how a seed grows – the words may seem no longer relevant. Presumably in the first century, those in Jesus’ first audience knew how to make seeds grow – plant them where they will get sun, cover them with dirt, water them, and other observable things – but not why that worked. They didn’t know the science of what went on underground that caused the seed to burst out of its shell, push up through the dirt, and day by day grow a head of grain. It just sort of… happened. Planting a seed was (and really, still is!) an act of trust, and the fruit it yielded was (and is!) a gift of grace. 

Just because we now understand the science behind that particular process, does not make Jesus’ point any less relevant. It still invites us into the mysterious ways of God, and humbles us before them. There are still so many things in the world that we cannot understand, and never will. We can choose to be frustrated by that, or, we can carry on with learning what we can, but trusting that God is in charge, and give thanks for the many gifts of grace that come from God, in God’s own sweet time. This parable invites us to dwell in the mystery of God’s ways. We can (and often should!) participate in them, but in the end, it is God who makes things happen, not us. And there is freedom in accepting that!

The second place this parable took my heart this week was in the next line: “The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain of the head.” Our first impression of this might be, “Uh, duh, we know, we have seen plants grow.” Again, it seems dismissible. But on further reflection, I actually found this line quite a comfort. It showed me, there is a process to things. We are a people of instant gratification and quick results and efficiency. I was watching The Sound of Music with my kids the other day and in the scene where Rolf first delivers a telegram to Captain von Trapp, I realized, “My kids have no idea what a telegram is,” that less than 100 years ago this used to be the most efficient way to get a message to someone quickly. Now, we can send a text across the world in less than a second, and this way of life seems to suit us. 

But this parable says, “Faster isn’t always better. Efficiency is not always the best way. Getting quickly to the end should not always be the goal.” Rather, there is a process to things: “first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain of the head.” Boy, I think we are guilty of this all too often – skipping to the end result we want without giving enough time and energy to the process to get there. There is so much growth that happens in that process (first the stalk, then the head…), and skipping to the end also skips that holy growth.

A couple weeks ago at Synod Assembly, we were introduced to the synod’s ministry focus for the year: adaptive leadership. Often when we are faced with a problem, we want to skip straight to the solution – and sometimes that works. The pastor’s mic isn’t working; get fresh batteries. It’s a technical challenge with a technical fix. Done. But some challenges are more complicated than that, and require more than a one- or two-step solution. And so, when we apply a one- or two-step solution, hoping for that quick fix, we see no lasting improvement. These challenges require an adaptive approach, a look at it from the balcony to get the bigger picture. We need to slow down and ask questions like, “Why is this happening? Who are the stake-holders? What outcome are we hoping for and why? What will be gained, but also what will be lost if we achieve that outcome, and to whom will that matter? What difficult conversations do we need to have to get there?” First the stalk, then the head, then the full grain of the head, and finally the harvest: it is a process, and that middle period of growth cannot be skipped, not if we want to see life and nourishment at the other end. Not if we want to see the fruits of God’s kingdom come about.

And that is, of course, the point of all this: to find life and nourishment, to see the fruits of God’s kingdom come about, to grow in love and faith, to serve the world. That is the kingdom Jesus came to proclaim, came to bring about. That is the kingdom we can already see and participate in, and also for which we long and work. It is a kingdom that is at once mysterious, and also deeply known, a kingdom that requires us to slow down and engage in a process, where we will see the holiness of God emerge. It is a kingdom, a reign, a rule, of which we are already intimately a part. Thy kingdom come, O God, and compel us to participate in it.

Let us pray… Reigning God, your kingdom is all around us, already here and not yet to its fullness. Help us to dwell in mystery, to slow down and engage in the holy process, so that we would see, experience, and participate in the growth of your kingdom on earth. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: Sabbath as freedom (June 2, 2024)

Pentecost 2B/Lectionary 9
June 2, 2024
Deut. 5:12-15, Mark 2:23-3:6

INTRODUCTION

Today we enter what is known as the Ordinary Season, marked with the use of green paraments. It is the long season, about 5 months, between big festivals, and during these weeks, we hear stories about Jesus’ ministry and we learn about what a Christian life looks like.

This first Sunday of ordinary time, we focus not on the getting-your-hands-dirty sort of ministry, but rather, about the importance of sabbath in a life of faith. Of all the ten commandments, this is the one mentioned most throughout the Bible, and perhaps that is because it is also one that is very difficult for us! 

Before we hear these readings about Sabbath, I wanted to offer a bit of a definition. I think we often hear “sabbath” and think, “going to church.” And yes, that might be a part of it, but there is more to it than that. In Exodus, God tells Moses that Israel is to remember the sabbath, to keep it holy, because God rested on the seventh day, and so should God’s people. So there, it is about rest. But the other time the sabbath law is given is in Deuteronomy, in the passage we will hear today, and here, God ties it instead to the Exodus story – a story of liberation. In other words, the sabbath is observed so that we would remember our God-given freedom. 

In our Gospel reading, which takes place on the sabbath day, we will see yet another perspective on the sabbath: that it is about compassion, healing and restoration, and that it was made for humankind, not vice versa. In other words, the sabbath should not be a burden, a duty, but rather it is a gift, given by God to humans.

Lots to unpack about the sabbath. As you listen, consider from what you need a rest, a break, even liberation, and trust that God wants to give you that freedom. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

“Remember the sabbath, to keep it holy.” I remember learning about that one in confirmation class, I remember talking about what is meant by sabbath – that it is about more than just going to church, but rather, about spending time with God… But I admit that, even a seminary education later, I still don’t always understand it. 

I think I’m in good company, though – where other commandments are pretty clearcut (put God first, don’t kill, don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t covet), the sabbath commandment remains one of the least understood and, if we’re honest, perhaps also the least followed commandment. The problem is, ours is a culture that so often places value and worth on being productive. We’re lucky if we find a job that places real value on taking time off. Even in school – we were in Canada last week to visit my brother and his family, and learned that our nieces in grades 1 and 4 get three recess breaks a day, where our kids only get one recess, and are even expected to work through their morning snack break! Even when we do rest, it’s not always restful. We have a phone close at hand so we can scroll through social media or the news or whatever, and we use our day “off” to do all the chores and errands (folding laundry is hardly a rest!). I cringe to think how often, at the end of the day when my family shares highs and lows together, I say, “My high is that it was a really productive day. I got a lot done!” 

So yeah, I am not sure we do so well at following the sabbath commandment. But in our defense, the meaning or purpose of the sabbath law is also not always clear. Exodus gives different rationale than Deuteronomy, Israel struggled with it, and we can see in the Gospel reading that it was a source of controversy in Jesus’ time as well. 

So, let’s break this down and see if we can’t make some sense out of this important but misunderstood commandment.

First, I’m really interested in what Jesus says to the Pharisees, “The sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the sabbath.” In other words, the sabbath law, like any law I suppose, can all too easily become one more thing on our list of shoulds, and from there, it becomes a burden – something to which we are beholden, even that causes suffering. In the first part of today’s Gospel reading, Jesus’ disciples are hungry and so they pick some food to eat, but this is technically harvesting (work), and is breaking the sabbath law. The expectation seems to be that they should just go hungry, rather than dare work on the sabbath.

But this isn’t right, says Jesus. It may follow the letter of the law, but it is not in the spirit of the law. The sabbath, and all the commandments, were given as a gift. The commandments in general are there as a guide to show God’s people what it looks like to love God and neighbor. The sabbath law in particular is a real gift of grace. Check out the reading from Deuteronomy, in which God says, “Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day.” This law was always meant, you see, as a release from our burdens and that which would oppress us, an opportunity to live in freedom! “The sabbath was made for humankind,” Jesus says, “not to be one more thing that makes living difficult.” The sabbath is about life, freedom, flourishing, restoration, and rest from all that would keep us from those things, all that would keep us from God. 

It’s no wonder we struggle to live into this commandment. I mean, it sounds great, all this talk of freedom, rest, and restoration! Who wouldn’t want that? And yet the prevailing messages in our minds and in the world around us make that gift so hard to receive. Everywhere we go, it seems, we hear messages like: Your worth is based on your productivity. You should be able to do it all, and in order to do that, there is no time for rest. You are valuable when you accomplish or contribute something. You have not earned a break. Above all that noise, it is difficult to hear that loving voice of Jesus, whispering, “You are worth more than what you can produce. To God, you are already worth everything.”

As I’ve been thinking about this, I keep returning to our reading from Deuteronomy. “Remember that you were slaves in the land of Egypt…” That rationale might seem completely irrelevant to us today – after all, none of us here have been slaves in Egypt, or even slaves at all. But… that doesn’t mean that we are completely free. There are plenty of lands of Egypt in our lives, plenty of things that hold us captive, that keep us from living into the fullness of the life God envisions for us, that keep us from being restored, and from finding joy in God’s presence. Off the top of my head, here are some: we are captive to our to-do lists, and the hope of productivity; we are captive to our negative self-talk, whether that’s about our body image, or our abilities, or people’s perception of us; we are captive to our regrets or guilt about the past; we are captive to our resentment around unmet expectations about how things ought to be; we are captive to sin, and cannot free ourselves… Anyone here find yourself a slave in any of those lands of Egypt? 

If we are to follow the sabbath commandment, we need to take a good hard look at these things that are keeping us captive, and consider, perhaps in prayer: what would a sabbath from that slavery, that work, that burden look like? I’m under no illusion that they can go away forever, at least not this side of heaven, but even the sabbath commandment doesn’t expect that. One day, it says, one day you shall rest, remember that our God is a God of freedom, and wants you to experience that freedom as a matter of ritual and routine. So, what would sabbath rest look like, for your particular land of Egypt?

Perhaps it is as simple as a decision: today, I will not feel resentment about this pile that my spouse still hasn’t dealt with. I’m just not gonna let it bother me today! Or maybe a small act: today, when I see myself in the mirror, instead of thinking I look old and fat, I will say to myself, “Your body is amazing, and it does amazing things every day – pumping blood, carrying nourishment, healing itself.” Or maybe it is putting on your to-do list for your day a chunk of time that you commit to doing something fulfilling, something that restores your soul – sitting in quiet prayer, coloring, reading a good book, making music, having coffee with a friend. I can tell you what gives me a sense of freedom from my burdens, but you and God have to decide that yourselves. 

The point is: the purpose of the sabbath is not deprivation. It is not withholding compassion from those in need. It is not about laziness. The purpose of the sabbath is to be reminded on a regular basis that in God’s eyes, your worth or value is not dependent on your productivity. It is to remember that God wants life for you, and wants to give you freedom from that which holds you captive. When we observe the sabbath, we are saying to all those things that would try to keep us from the full and holy lives God wants for us, “You do not define me,” and we are instead stepping into the space that God through Christ made for us: to be a holy people, free from the captivity of sin, sent out to love and serve the world. 

Let us pray… Liberating God, there are so many demands on us – things we love doing, and things we know we must do. But your desire for us is freedom. Help us to stop, to reflect, and to be released from those forces, expectations, and needs that hold us captive, so that we would come to know the freedom you envision for us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

View the full service HERE.