Sermon: To whom shall we go? (August 25, 2024)

 Pentecost 14B
August 25, 2024
John 6:56-69

INTRODUCTION

Today’s texts all share a very prominent theme: that of faithfulness to the one true God, even in the midst of struggles and temptations. They are texts as convicting as they are encouraging. They fill me with hope in the power of faith, and with hopelessness at my inevitable failure always to keep that faith. In other words: they do exactly what the gospel, the living Word of God, sets out to do: comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.

In the reading from Joshua, Joshua asks the Israelites which god they will serve: Yahweh, or the various false idols they have in their possession. The people give an unequivocal “yes!” to Yahweh. In Ephesians, Paul talks about the devil and the forces of evil that are among us, working their woe, and how we must prepare to defend against them by putting on the armor of God. And in John, you remember we have just come to the end of Jesus’ long Bread of Life discourse. Anyone remember the difficult teaching Jesus offered them last week? The one about how they must eat his flesh and drink his blood in order to abide in him and have eternal life? It’s a difficult teaching all right, one which, as we’ll see, causes many to turn their backs on this compelling teacher. Yet when faced with the decision as to whether to leave Jesus’ side, Peter utters the words now memorialized in our Gospel acclamation: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” 

Faithfulness and commitment. It is a gift and a challenge as old as time. Let us feast upon these stories of faith, as we reflect also on our own journeys that have taken us to the edge of doubt, and back again. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

This week the kids and I were looking at a book of conversation-starters for families. One of the questions was, “If you could meet anyone in history, who would it be and why?” My immediate answer was, “Jesus, because I wanna see for myself. I wanna know what it was like to watch him in action.”

Well today we get a glimpse of what it was like. Often when Jesus says or does something stunning, the response is, “And they were all amazed!” Not so today. Today, the crowd’s first response is: “This teaching is difficult. Who can accept it?” That’s a very human reaction, isn’t it, especially in today’s world, in which we pride ourselves on our autonomy and good sense: we make our own decisions and believe what we want to believe and do what we want to do. So when we hear this difficult teaching from Jesus, it is natural to think: This is weird, it goes against my logic, I can’t accept it. I can’t understand it, so I will not abide by it. 

And it’s true, it is difficult. But you know… This is not the only of Jesus’ teachings that are difficult. Here are a few other difficult teachings that come to mind: 

• “Go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor…; then come, follow me.” Really? ALL of my possessions? But can’t I keep just these few things? They mean so much to me. Can’t I keep something for myself?

• “Then Peter came and said to him, ‘Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.’” 77?? I sometimes have trouble with one! 77 is a lot, Jesus. What if what they did was really bad, or a repeated offense?

• “If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also.” Wait, I can’t fight back, not even with my words? But what if this person is a real jerk and needs to be set straight? Or what if turning the other cheek just encourages them to continue being mean and hurting others?

You see? Jesus’ teachings are difficult, no two ways about it. They often go against what our culture tells us to do, which makes them even harder. This one about the flesh and blood – it’s hard, too. But the fact is, living the life of a Christian, and walking the way of Christ, is difficult. There’s a wonderful Maya Angelou quote: “I’m trying to be a Christian,” she says. “I’m working at it, and I’m amazed when people walk up to me and say, ‘I’m a Christian.’ I think, Already? Wow!” This faith business is something we need to work at! It’s a process. And it’s difficult. Can we accept it?

Which brings us to the next part of the reaction to Jesus’ bread of life teaching. John tells us that “because of this [teaching], many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.” We’re not talking some folks who just happened to be hanging around. These aren’t your Christmas and Easter Christians. These are Jesus’ disciples, people who had been following him, who had already invested something in him. They were folks who sat on council, who led Bible studies, who set up for coffee hour. And when asked, “Who can accept it?” they decided, “I can’t. This is too much.” And I expect that seeing these faithful people turn around and walk away would make it even harder for others, who might have stayed, to accept this teaching.

In my home synod in CA, we had a bishop some years back who, some time after his term as bishop, became an atheist. He no longer found he had any faith at all. When he died, at his funeral, there was no mention of the resurrection, no word of Christian hope. And that is hard, to see someone you looked up to as a model of faith (a bishop!), suddenly reject that faith. This teaching is difficult. If even Jesus’ disciples struggle to accept it, how can I?

         And then perhaps what is for me the toughest reaction of all: when Jesus turns to the twelve, those followers who were closest to him, and asks them, “Do you also wish to go away?” Whether this was asked as a challenge, or out of sadness, or simply out of fatigue and discouragement, this is the question that gets in my craw. “Do you also wish to go away?” Sometimes I feel like it is directed right at me. This teaching is difficult, Johanna. Do you wish to go away? This life is a hard one to live, Johanna. Wouldn’t it be easier just to go away? How does your faith understand this tragic event, or this difficult time, Johanna? Do you wish to go away?

         Sometimes… the answer is yes. That would be easier, I think, easier than upholding all these difficult teachings. Easier than seeing the evil, brokenness, and sadness in this world and trying to understand it through the lens of what is supposed to be a God of love. Easier than trying to be true to my Christian beliefs in the context of an increasingly pluralistic society. …Do you also sometimes wish to go away?

         When I had just begun my year serving as a missionary in Slovakia, I learned of a horrific tragedy back home, something that shook my very foundations and caused me to lose faith in the God who I believed had called me to Slovakia in the first place. I had already been on somewhat shaky ground with my faith, because the month and a half I had been in Slovakia had not gone very smoothly, but now, this event, made me doubt the existence of God at all – how could a God of love allow this to happen? For days, I lived in fear and darkness. I was scared of everything, and I lived in a fog where nothing could turn my mourning into dancing. In those days, I did wish to go away. Having faith in this God – it was too difficult for me. I could not accept it.

         But then, after experiencing this darkness, after living several days in fear, I had a moment like Peter had in response to Jesus’ question. “Lord, to whom shall we go?” Peter asks. “You have the words of eternal life.” Where else can we possibly go? That October in Slovakia, I, too, was faced with these two possibilities: continue to reject a God who had let something horrible happen to someone I loved, and with that continue to live in darkness; or, cling to the hope that is promised through the resurrection, as difficult to accept as that may be in that moment. And my answer was the same as Peter’s: “What else am I supposed to do? Where else can I go?” Angry, disappointed, and hurting as I was in that moment, I couldn’t imagine living without this God. Without Christ, there are no words of eternal life. There is no hope. Lord, to whom shall we go? Difficult as following you may be, you have the words of eternal life that offer me hope in the midst of my despair.

The teaching is difficult. It can be hard to accept it. It can be even harder to live it, to receive, through no merit of our own, God’s immense grace and love, the forgiveness of sins, the promise of everlasting life… and then, having accepted and embraced that grace, to go out and actually live the life that Christ calls us to: a life that cares more about the poor, the immigrant, the lost and dejected, the broken, the weak, the morbidly obese, the drug-addicted, the imprisoned – to care about all of them at least as much as we do about ourselves. A life that shares the love of Christ with everyone we meet, even people we don’t like, or with whom we disagree, or who did something to hurt us, or who are just really annoying.

But here’s the good news: this teaching is difficult, but we’re not in this alone. Jesus promises us that. And we receive that promise every time we wake up in the morning, every time we splash water on our faces and remember we are baptized. We receive it every time we hear the words of eternal life, every time we are forgiven, and every time we come to this table and feast on the body and blood of Christ, where we receive the strength and nourishment we need to live this life Christ calls us to. This teaching is difficult, but to whom else could we possibly go?

Let us pray… Christ, our Bread of Life, following your teachings is difficult, and sometimes hard to accept. By your strength and patience, help us to follow you anyway, trusting that you do have the words of eternal life that can carry us through all things. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: Taste and see! (August 11, 2024)

Pentecost 11B
August 11, 2024 (week 3 of bread discourse)
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
John 6:35, 41-51

INTRODUCTION

This is week three of the bread of life series, so let’s first recall where we are in this discourse. For these few weeks we are working through John 6, which begins with Jesus feeding 5000 people with five loaves and two fish, and continues with explaining what this sign means. Today we get into more of the theology of it, as the crowd continues to be dubious about what Jesus means by calling himself the bread of life.

The Old Testament story paired with this portion of the discourse is about the prophet Elijah, who is also fed miraculously in the wilderness. Here’s the context: Elijah has just killed a bunch of false prophets (prophets of Ba-al), and Queen Jezebel has consequently vowed to have him killed. He is running for his life, and at the beginning of today’s reading, he has just collapsed in exhaustion. And here, in this moment of exhaustion and hopelessness, God provides. The Psalm, which liturgically is always meant to be a reflection on the Old Testament reading, recalls how God meets us in our desolation and delivers us – just like with Elijah, just like with David who wrote this Psalm, and just like with us today.

As you listen to these readings, notice the words of life and sustenance spoken into feelings of despair. God does provide for us all that we need. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

Twelve years ago this month, I was undergoing medical testing for what turned out to be breast cancer. I’d had test upon test, and each had led us to something else we needed to check out. In the midst of this mess, I decided I needed something that would bring me life and joy, so I suggested to my music director at the time that I could sing something in worship, in particular a beloved setting of today’s Psalm that I’d learned in seminary – the very same one that Helena will sing for us as the offertory today. The refrain goes, “Taste and see, taste and see, the goodness of the Lord!” I was excited to be able to use music to help me escape for a moment what I was going through.

Well, it seemed like a good idea. But turned out, it wasn’t much of an escape. As I rehearsed it with the music director, the impact of these words suddenly hit me in a way they never had before. “I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise shall always be on my lips… I called the Lord who answered me… from all my troubles I was set free…” As I sang, visions of doctor’s offices and MRI machines came to mind, but so did visions of my family and friends surrounding me, and congregation members who had rallied around me, and memories of boob jokes my doctors and I had enjoyed sharing back and forth, and my steadfast then-boyfriend by my side all along, accompanying me to appointments, and doing all he could to support me through this. “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord!” I sang… 

And friends, as I sang, I completely lost it. First the telltale voice wobble. Then the sound just stopped coming out. And then all the tears started. I stood there in the sanctuary openly weeping over the goodness of the Lord, and the already-and-not-yet of this Psalm in my life at that moment. The organist, herself a breast cancer survivor, and someone with whom I’d had a somewhat rocky relationship, stopped playing and came over to me, unsure what to do with this sobbing young pastor before her. And suddenly I was throwing my arms around her, and continuing to cry into her shoulder. In so many ways, this Psalm was “not-yet” for me. A couple weeks later, I would be officially diagnosed, and undergo surgery. And then another surgery. And then 6 months later, two days after my bridal shower, cancer would show up again and I would have three more surgeries before all was said and done. Plenty of other health and personal challenges would come up along the way as well. So how could I stand there and sing, “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord!”? How could I possibly “bless the Lord at all times,” even in this trying time that threatened to take so much from me? How could I proclaim that the Lord had saved me from all my troubles, when really, my troubles were all just beginning?

And yet… I believed it. I checked in with my heart in the midst of all this, wondering if these tears were sadness, fear, or joy, and I’ve thought about it many times since, and I determined that the tears were, well, all three of those, but definitely mostly joy! Even in that dark moment in my personal story, I truly could taste and see that the Lord is good. 

I guess it is no surprise, then, that not only is this Psalm connected to a narrative in my own life, but its original writing was also imbedded in a narrative. In particular, a part of (the future King) David’s story. You may know that David wrote many of the Psalms. This particular one was written after he was running for his life from a wrathful monarch (not unlike our buddy Elijah!). The jealous King Saul, the first king of Israel, wanted to kill him. Saul’s son and David’s dear friend Jonathan helped David escape Saul’s wrath, making Saul even madder. David had taken refuge among the Philistines, but, you may recall that after David had, as a child, slaughtered their hero, Goliath, he was not on great terms with the Philistines. So, for his own safety, David faked his own insanity, so that they wouldn’t recognize him or perceive him as a threat. (This is the stuff of daytime television!) And it worked! And in gratitude for his safety, David wrote this Psalm. 

My own experience, and this biblical backstory, can help us see this Psalm’s power to guide our piety and devotion. I invite you to walk with me through it.

The Psalm begins with this bold declaration: “I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall always be on my lips.” This sentiment is not so hard to grasp when things are going well, when you’ve already been saved. But how do we do that when we are still in the pit? Well, here’s the thing about the Psalms: sometimes they are reflections back – for David, that was the case. But some are reminders that direct us forward toward a faithful life, even when the burdens of this life would threaten to drag us down. That’s how I experienced it in my own story: not as a memory, but as a desire and a prayer: “I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise will be on my lips. God, I know you can make it so! I know you can bring me to that place! Help me to see reasons to praise, even from this current darkness!” 

To be clear, I’m not suggesting we engage in what is sometimes called “toxic positivity” – an insistence to spin everything into a positive light, no matter what. I’m a firm believer in the importance of expressing all the emotions, even and especially the less nice ones, because if we don’t, they will eventually come out sideways, harming us or people we love. Identifying and expressing those feelings is the only way to process them and move past them. But. There is still a way to praise, even in the midst of those less nice emotions. The Psalmist does not say, “Praise God for everything.” Rather, there is something for which to praise God in everything. In my story, on the cusp of a cancer diagnosis, I could praise God that I had landed in Rochester for my first call, with its excellent medical care. I could praise God for a good-humored doctor who kept me giggling and laughed at my jokes. I could praise God for the immense grace my congregation extended as I sorted out my health just one year into my ministry with them. God’s praise could always be on my lips and in my heart, even as I was facing a deadly disease.

Jumping ahead now to verse 4: “I sought the Lord, who answered me, and delivered me from all my terrors.” For David, this verse reads as a thanksgiving for a specific event from which he was saved. In my story, I had not yet been delivered from the particular terror I faced. But I had been before. So in my reading, my experience of this Psalm in my particular time and place, this verse served as an invitation to remember all the times that I had been delivered, all the times I had sought the Lord and he answered me. And friends, there are many! Many in my personal life, many in the lives of my close family and my ancestors, and many throughout the generations of faith, as far back as David and well beyond. This verse, in short, is a reminder that God is faithful. God answers when we call. God delivers us from troubles. That is God’s M.O., from the story of the Exodus, to Elijah being fed in the desert, to Jesus overcoming the grave, to our own redemption from our troubles. Not always in the way or timing we imagine, but ultimately, every time. We seek the Lord, who answers us, and delivers us from our terrors.

And finally verse 8: “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” In Hebrew, that word “taste” means, “try it and experience it yourself.” And so this, too, is an invitation, urging us to imagine for a moment that this is all true, that God does deliver, that God is good… try it for yourself, and live into that reality. Truly believe it and believe in it. What freedom that faith and trust bring!

I have another poignant memory of this Psalm. It is from my grandfather’s funeral. My mom’s family has a wonderful store of German canons that they sing together, that they learned when they lived and worked in war-torn Germany in the 40s and 50s. They still love to sing them whenever they’re together. My favorite is based on this Psalm: “Ich will den Herrn loben alle zeit. Sein Lob soll immer darin meine Munde sein.” I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise shall always be in my mouth. We decided to sing that particular canon at the very end of Grandpa’s funeral, after the casket had been wheeled out but just before the postlude. We stood in the back and sang as a family, “I will bless the Lord always!” 

I admit that I thought at the time it was a weird choice. Yet, standing there, it was exactly right. We were praising the Lord, not for having lost my grandfather, but for the gift of his life, his long and fruitful years of ministry all over the world, and his love of the Lord. We were praising God for our certainty that Grandpa was now with his savior, basking in the light and life of Jesus like he had wanted all his life. 

And isn’t that exactly what a life of faith looks like? We do praise the Lord at all times, because we are assured that this joy is our ending: that political turmoil, and cancer, and loss and grief, and all the troubles that we face – all of it will end with us basking in Jesus’ enduring light and peace, living in the eternal life we are promised. And so, I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall always be on my lips.

Sing Ich will den Herrn loben…

Let us pray… God of all goodness, when we are lost, or sad, or in despair, you invite us to taste and see your goodness. Grant us the faith to bless you at all times, and to remember always your faithfulness. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

View full service HERE (including several bits that were sung during the sermon...).

Sermon: Our vision through the lens of the bread of life (Aug. 4, 2024)

Pentecost 11B (week 2 of Bread of Life)
August 4, 2024
John 6:24-35

INTRODUCTION

Last week we began what is known as the Bread of Life discourse. Each of Jesus’ discourses in John’s Gospel are explanations of some sign, or miracle, he’s performed, so it’s important for our understanding that we recall what that sign was. Anyone remember what we heard last week? [Jesus feeding the 5000.] I’m sure you remember this story – Jesus and the disciples are all out, far away from town, and everyone gets hungry. One boy shares his lunch, and miraculously everyone ends up with plenty to eat, with 12 baskets left over. It is one of Jesus’ seven signs that we see in John’s Gospel.

The next part of the story happens the next day. Folks have gone to pretty great lengths to track down Jesus, and they find him, and today we will be hearing the beginning of the conversation that ensues. As always in John, conversation with Jesus is characterized by a lack of understanding, because Jesus is always talking from up here, in the heavenly realm, and people respond from down here, in the earthly realm. They totally miss what Jesus is really saying, because they are so stuck down in the world of the flesh. Not that we can really blame them. This is tough stuff Jesus is saying. Jesus is totally blowing their minds here. 

One more quick comment about our first reading: for Jesus’ disciples, this story of being fed in the wilderness has been the defining story about how God provides. It is so foundational, that it is what the crowd refers to in trying to understand who Jesus is. So listen carefully, and then hold onto that story as you listen to what Jesus says about being the bread of life. 

[READ]

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

Our council has been working with our synod’s Director for Evangelical Mission, Pastor Imani Olear, to do some visioning work for our congregation. I wonder how many of you know our existing vision statement? It is to “spread the word of God, build a strong community, and make the world a better place.” As a part of this process, some St. Paul’s leaders have been working on our “Case Statement” – each of us taking a stab at thinking about questions like, “Who are we? Why does St. Paul’s exist? What is our vision for the future? Who does or will benefit from our vision, and how? Why does our community need our particular vision?” I love these kinds of questions, but they are really hard! This sort of introspection does not come easily to everyone. (I should add, by the way, that if you would like to take a stab at a case statement and answer any of these questions, you are encouraged to! They do need to be completed by this Thursday – if you want to do it, or just talk to me about it, let me know and I’ll make it happen.)

As I’ve worked on it, some of the questions have been straightforward, and some have left me feeling a bit like a deer-in-the-headlights (like, “Huh?”). When that happens, I find it helpful to look at questions like this through a particular lens – often, for me, a biblical one. So today I will walk us through looking at our vision statement, through the lens of our Gospel reading.

First: St. Paul’s has a vision to “spread the word of God.” Seen through the lens of the Bread of Life, we have an answer: we believe that the Word (in this case, the words of scripture, but also Jesus himself, the Word made flesh) nourishes us. And by that, I mean, the word of God sustains us, helps us to grow, to be healthy, to have energy for the task before us. The Word doesn’t perish, like breakfast does by lunchtime, but continually sustains us – and we gain more of these benefits when we regularly partake of it, in the form of scripture-based devotion, Bible study, prayer, worship, or whatever else feeds your spiritually. 

As far as our St. Paul’s vision goes, to spread the word of God – if we have a vision of spreading these benefits beyond ourselves, beyond even our congregation – then it goes to follow that we ought to be regularly partaking of it ourselves! How can we give away something we don’t have, after all? How can we share the joy of that vision with others, if we don’t intimately know that joy ourselves? 

As I worked on my case statement, and reflected upon how I see this vision playing out at St. Paul’s, I thought: my vision for St. Paul’s is that every member would, by consuming the Bread of Life with intention, be able to identify and articulate how God is moving in their lives, not only in big important moments, but in mundane moments, too. Because when we can do this, God becomes not some divine being on a cloud somewhere, but a being who continues to be active among us. This awareness gives not only sustenance, but purpose to our lives, and also gives us hope, comfort, support, and courage to do hard things. Consuming the bread of life equips us to be a force for goodness and grace in the world. That is what we can gain by living out our vision, “to spread the word of God.” …

The next part of our vision is to “build a strong community.” I guess I had previously thought of this as the community beyond our walls, but now I’ve started to think of it as being our church community – both those already here, and those who may join us at any given time. And in light of today’s Gospel, it is hard not think about “church community” without thinking about meals. Not just church potlucks, but meals like the one Jesus has just provided for them in which 5000 were fed from five loaves and two fish, or the meal Jesus will later institute, which we celebrate here each Sunday, in which we believe we are physically eating “the bread of God come down from heaven to give life to the world.” 

I’m really interested in that phrase from John, about the “bread from heaven that gives life to the world.” I don’t think Jesus is just talking here about eternal life – because the bread is coming down from heaven, not bringing us up to heaven. No, I think Jesus is referring here to the life that we crave and seek right here on earth, right now. 

So what does that life look like? What does it mean that Jesus “gives life to the world”? I suppose it looks different for different people. But I’d venture to guess that we all find some life and fulfillment in… a sense of belonging. In feeling accepted for being exactly who we are. In being seen and known. In feeling loved. Am I right? That’s the sort of nourishment that endures, that does not perish, and it is worth working toward building! 

Now, we can go about getting those things (love, belonging, etc.) in any number of ways, with varying degrees of success. But my vision for St. Paul’s is that we would be seen as a place in the larger community where anyone can come and belong, where they will hear they are loved by God and by us, where they will find rest for their souls, and receive bread for their spiritual journey – not only through Word and sacrament, but through the relationships they experience here. When the bread of God that comes down from heaven gives life to the world, that place of love and belonging is what I imagine life might look like. That is the strong community we have a vision to build. …

Finally, St. Paul’s has a vision to “make the world a better place.” This seems the most straightforward to most of us, I think. We want to make an impact on the world, making lives physically better for people. We do this through our various donations, both of time and resources. We also do this just by being the Spirit-filled, God-encouraged, loving, hopeful, compassionate people we are made to be – the sort of people the other parts our vision enable us to be, having been nourished and sustained by the Bread of Life, and by our place in a community of love and belonging. We make the world a better place by bringing the light of Christ into a world so often threatened by darkness.

So my question on this part isn’t so much what this part of our vision statement means, but rather, why we do it. What compels us to want to make the world a better place? And here, our Gospel reading can again guide us: we do it because we believe in Jesus. “This is the work of God,” Jesus says, “that you believe in him whom [God] has sent.” We believe that the life-changing power of love, of God’s self-sacrificing love for us, calls, compels, and enables us to do it. 

And so we strive to live into our mission: 

• to partake of and then to share the life-sustaining, nourishing, grace-filled Word of God with a hungry world; 

• to do the hard work of building a community of love and belonging; 

• to get out there and, by the strength and encouragement of God’s Word and God’s people, to make the world a better place than it would have been without us. 

All of this we do because we believe in Christ, who gave everything, even himself, so that we would have this life, so that we would be sustained and nourished – and so that we would know that even when we don’t live into this vision perfectly, that never changes how very much God loves us. 

So eat up, my friends. Eat this Bread of Life, always. For whoever comes to Christ will never be hungry.

Let us pray… Bread of Life, you have a big vision for the world and for us. Help us to live into it by feeding the world with your love, by building a community of belonging, and by making the world a better, more light-filled place. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Full service can be viewed HERE.