Sermon: Wrestling with God (Oct. 16, 2022)

Pentecost 19C
October 16, 2022
Genesis 32:22-31

INTRODUCTION

Luke will tell us at the beginning of our Gospel reading today that the parable Jesus tells is about “the need to pray always and not to lose heart.” I agree with this to some extent, but, well, that particular parable is about so much more than prayer. It’s about demanding justice, and about faithfulness. And yes, these are intricately tied to prayer. But I don’t want us to get stuck in thinking of prayer only as kneeling beside your bed, eyes closed and hands folded. Sometimes, prayer is more about listening than talking. And sometimes, prayer looks like a wrestling match with God!

Which is what our first reading will show us, in the wonderful story of Jacob wrestling with… well, I’ll let you decide who he is wrestling with! I’m going to get more into the full context of that story in my sermon, but for now, here’s what you should know: since Jacob was a baby, he has been a trickster, one who has been especially hard on his twin brother, Esau. In fact, his brother was so mad that Jacob stole his birthright and blessing out from under him, that he threatened to kill Jacob. So Jacob had to run off to family in a different town, where he acquired two wives, two handmaids, 12 children, and a bunch of livestock. But now Jacob has angered that family, too, and is heading back to his family of origin, hoping that Esau will receive and forgive him. Terrified and alone, in today’s story Jacob will encounter some unidentified being, and, as Hebrew Bible scholar Rachel Wrenn comments, the wrestling match is “perhaps the best description of the life of faith in the entire Bible.”

As you listen, recall a time when you struggled to understand the ways of God, when you really had to work at “taking heart” and finding a blessing in what you were going through, and consider where you saw God in that. Let’s listen.

[READ]

In Paul Granlund's portrayal of Jacob wrestling,
at Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, MN,
the identity of Jacob's assailant is unclear. On close inspection,
it seems he is indeed wrestling himself!

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

There is no one in the Bible who is at once so beloved and such a scoundrel as Jacob. Jacob, whose name means, “Supplanter. Trickster.” He has spent his life, from the moment he came out of the womb, trying to cheat other people in order to get what he wanted. And yet, as today’s reading from Genesis hints at, God chooses him to be the namesake of what will become the whole nation of Israel. 

Before we dig into his story, let me set the scene for you. Jacob, son of Isaac and grandson of Father Abraham has led a life of deception and trickery, beginning with his twin brother, Esau. Now, at this point in the story, Jacob is traveling home with all his family and possessions, when he finds out his livid older brother is after him with an army of 400 men. Jacob is, understandably, afraid that he is finally going to get his comeuppance for a lifetime of cheating people. He sends his wives and children across the river, and then sits on the beach of the Jabbok river, alone, and awaiting what comes next. 

As many times as I have read this story, I am always struck by that line, “Jacob was left alone.” When I read it, I am filled with a sense of loneliness myself – who of us has not felt this way at some point? Alone and afraid. Alone and knowing that danger lurks. Alone and regretful. I can ruminate with the best of them – so when I am alone, I usually spend that time ruminating over all the problems in my life, replaying events that didn’t go as I wish they had, having imaginary conversations with people I’ll never actually have, considering all the ways I wish things had gone differently. Those alone times are never really alone, are they? We are alone with our thoughts, with our fears, with our regrets. And none of these make for very good company. When I imagine Jacob sitting there, alone, I wonder if he, too, felt and heard the noise of his fears and his regrets for being such a scoundrel throughout his life.

It isn’t long, though, that he is alone in that darkness of night. Suddenly he is very much not alone – a being comes and begins to wrestle with him. The text says it was “a man.” The prophet Hosea later comments on the story, calling it an angel. At the end, it becomes apparent that this is some kind of divine being, even God Himself. In other words, Jacob wrestled that night with God. 

I just love this image of wrestling with God, because it so beautifully puts words to my own experience of faith. I have never walked away from my faith entirely, but there have been plenty of times for me, and perhaps also for you, when I certainly felt like I was in a wrestling match with God. The match is usually punctuated by prayers such as, “Why this, God? Why now?” and, “Seriously, God??” and, “If you’re going to let stuff like this happen, I’m not sure I want to be in this relationship anymore.” Sometimes, in our more charitable matches, my prayer has been, “I know, God, that you always use things for good – would you please show me the point of this, then, and quickly? What am I supposed to learn here?” Indeed, I have, like Jacob, felt like I’m wrestling with God for a blessing: “I’ve put up with enough already, God! You had better make this worth it in the end!” 

I think a lot of times we think that wrestling with God isn’t okay for a person of faith, that having doubts or struggles somehow means we are no longer faithful. I know of a pastor who had a heart attack, and he later told his congregation that as he rode in that ambulance to the hospital, he wasn’t scared at all, because of his faith. Maybe some would find that inspiring, but I think, “Boy, then how could he possibly understand my struggles?” because I have had plenty of wrestling matches with God, plenty of times when I have struggled and feared and questioned God.

I prefer the story of Mother Theresa. Some years ago, some journals of this now saint were found and published in a book called, Mother Theresa: Come Be My Light. The book created quite a stir, because some of her journal entries expressed not the pure, unchanging faith we had all imagined of this servant of God, but rather, of the many doubts and struggles she faced from day to day. Though many were upset by this, I find it to be rather a comfort. To know that someone of such immense and illustrative faith also struggled and doubted, just like me, gives me hope for my own faith, and the various wrestling matches it faces. Indeed, we can see in Mother Theresa’s writings that it was her struggles that strengthened her faith, and made her able to continue the difficult work she was doing in Calcutta.

You see, strength of faith comes when that faith faces challenges, when it goes through struggles, when we have to question, wrestle, even doubt or maybe even rebel for a bit, but not give up. Faith matures and strengthens as it goes through times of struggle, just as our muscles strengthen when we stress them, as we do in a workout. Perhaps, Jacob needed to have that wrestling match with God that night in order to strengthen and prepare him for becoming the namesake of the great nation of Israel. 

The wrestling match in this story possesses significant fodder for conversation about faith… but let’s not forget to get to the grace that comes with their exchange at the end. Throughout the match, Jacob seems to be holding his own, until finally this divine being touches his hip socket, wrenching it out of joint. This is the last straw for Jacob, and he demands a blessing. After all this, he says, “I will not let you go until you bless me!” Gotta give it to him: dude is gutsy! After an exchange and a name change – an incredibly rich part of this story that warrants an entirely other sermon for some other day! – Jacob does walk away from this encounter with God having received a blessing. That, in itself, is remarkable, and gracious – that after that long, dark, lonely night of wrestling with God, Jacob does walk away changed. His name is something new, something that reflects a God who is on his side; his identity has changed; his faith has strengthened. He has surely been blessed for this next, difficult part of his journey as God’s servant.

But a blessing isn’t all that he leaves with. Almost as an afterthought, the story ends with this line: “The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.” Jacob has indeed been changed – personally, spiritually, and physically. He will never take another step in his life of faith without remembering that on that dark, lonely, fearful night, he was touched by God, that he was blessed by God, that he received God’s grace. And he has the limp to prove it.

That’s how it is when we wrestle with God. So often we face a challenge, a struggle, and desperately long for things to go back to the way they were before – before the fight, before the diagnosis, before the pandemic, before the loss. Indeed, we hold onto the hope that things will go back to the way they once were, back when we were happy, or at least happier, with life. But as the adage goes, “God loves us too much to let us stay the same,” and any meaningful encounter with God will always result in a change. We will walk differently, but we will walk differently because we have been touched by God, touched by blessing, touched by grace. Such a change will take some getting used to – I’m certain Jacob’s life was never the same after that encounter. But in the end, faith is a matter of trust – of trusting that God can take even a man’s struggle on the cross and turn it into new life for us, of trusting that God will lead us wherever it is time for us to go, of trusting that as we walk into the new day, God walks with us, and God’s face shines upon us.

Let us pray… Faithful God, we sometimes find ourselves drawn into a wrestling match with you as we try to understand what you are doing in our lives. Give us faith to trust you even as we wrestle, and to believe that while we will inevitably walk away different than we were before, that this, too, is a part of your magnificent plan for us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Full service HERE.

Sermon: Find the good and praise it (Oct 9. 2022)

Pentecost 18C
October 9, 2022
Luke 17:11-19

INTRODUCTION

Today we have pretty strong themes of healing, mercy, and thanksgiving. We’ll hear two stories about God healing the leprosy of a foreigner: first the wonderful story of Naaman, the Aramean warrior (that is, an enemy of Israel) who gets a lesson in humility when first, he listens to the advice of a slave girl, and then listens to the advice of a Jewish prophet to wash in the dirty Jordan river. Sure enough, his willingness to listen (however initially hesitant) brings about his healing, and his declaration of God’s power. 

This story sets up well the Gospel reading. Again, we’ll hear a story of God healing leprosy for a bunch of “others” – in this case, Samaritans, the contemporary adversary of the Jews. A large rift existed between Jews and Samaritans, but the main issue is regarding where one should worship. How remarkable, then, that the one Samaritan leper’s response will be one of worship – he worships Jesus, and Jesus will commend him for it. It would be unexpected for a Jewish audience! In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is always flipping the narrative and blurring the lines of who is in and who is out. 

As you listen, just… be grateful. Remember the ways God has been good to you, and listen with a heart full of gratitude. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

Do you have a motto for your life? Like, something you tell yourself to guide and ground your days? Maybe it’s on a post-it on your mirror, or in your car, or just in your heart. Do you have a motto?

I listened to a podcast this week that opened with this question. The motto the host offered, which was made popular by writer Alex Haley, was this: “Find the good – and praise it.” Find the good and praise it. “Find” is easy enough to understand. Shouldn’t we always be seeking out good in the world? It can be so easy to slip into noticing only the bad things, which causes us then to slip further and further into discouragement. Instead, find the good things. 

But I’m especially interested in the “praise” part. What does that mean, praise? The word comes from price, or value. Like we “appraise,” or determine the value or worth, of a house, or a piece of jewelry. Not for the sake of the item – the diamond is beautiful whether or not we attach a value to it – but for our own sake. We identify, and then prize, what is worth praising. Find the good – and praise it. 

Praise takes center stage in today’s story in which Jesus heals ten lepers. And notice, it is the praise and thanksgiving that take center stage, not the healing itself. That happens offstage. We don’t even see it. The lepers head offstage toward the priest, as Jesus commanded, healing at some point along the way. In artistic portrayals of this story, you often see the other nine very small in the distance. But one returns to the center stage, and praises God with a loud voice, falling at Jesus’ feet, and praising him. He finds the good, and praises it. And, Luke makes a point of telling us, “He was a Samaritan.”

Now this is not a throw-away line. Indeed, this is quite remarkable. Because we might think, from the stories Jesus tells, that Samaritans are good guys, but the Jews did not think that. Way back during the exile in Babylon, the Samaritans started intermarrying, thus dirtying their Jewish blood. And that this particular Samaritan is praising Jesus is especially worth noting, because the primary issue between Jews and Samaritans, beyond even mixed race, is that they disagreed on where was the proper place to worship. Jews believed that it was the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Samaritans worshiped on Mount Gerizim. And this theological difference was a problem. Though they shared a heritage, Jews saw Samaritans as a racial and religious other. 

And yet, along comes Jesus, and all throughout the Gospels he is blurring those thick lines they have drawn. From start to finish, Jesus’ life and teachings call this line-drawing into question. Think: who were the first visitors to the baby Jesus, after the shepherds and the angels? The magi – who were Persians from modern day Iran, not insider Jews. Yet they were the ones who saw what the “insiders” could not see, that Jesus was the king. And then, as Jesus hung on a cross, who was it that correctly identified him as the Son of God? A Roman centurion – not a Jew, not a follower of Jesus. An outsider. Yet he saw Jesus for exactly who he was.

Jesus’ life follows this pattern, and his teachings do the same. We humans are awfully good at forming groups and deciding who gets to be in and who doesn’t, but Jesus is constantly calling that tendency into question. Instead, he seems to follow an ethic of: “find the good – and praise it.” 

Take this for example: way back in chapter 9, Luke tells us that Jesus “turned his face toward Jerusalem” – toward death and the empty tomb. On his way toward Jerusalem, he and the disciples pass through a Samaritan village, and they are denied hospitality, because remember, Samaritans don’t like Jews any more than Jews like Samaritans! Angry at this treatment, the disciples ask Jesus, “Do you want us to command fire to rain down and consume them?” After all, who do these Samaritans think they are?! They deserve punishment! Jesus tells them no, of course, and in the very next chapter he tells a story about a Samaritan, a good Samaritan, who cares for a neighbor in need. He does what the priest and the Levite (or, let’s call them, the pastor and the deacon) didn’t: he shows mercy to his injured neighbor. Jesus finds the good, and he praises it, lifting up this “other,” this Samaritan, this adversary, not just as an okay guy, but as an exemplar of faith. 

Find the good, and praise it… I think we do all right at this within our own groups. After all, the reason we form the groups we do is because we think they are good, and we want to be a part of something good! But Jesus pushes against this self-praise, pushing us instead to find the good and praise it wherever we find the good – even if the good is in who we regard as adversaries. 

Now, fast forward several chapters, toward the end of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, and we return to the same theme, in today’s text. Ten lepers approach Jesus and beg for mercy. He sends them to the priest, and they are healed on the way. One returns to praise God for what God has done. Jesus celebrates this act, telling him, “Your faith has made you well.” But what is he celebrating, exactly? Not his devotion or his obedience – all ten lepers called Jesus Master and did as they were told. It’s not theological correctness – Jews and Samaritans did not agree on key theological points, and that hasn’t changed. 

No, what makes this guy different is that he stops, pivots, and returns to Jesus with thanks and praise. And once again, Jesus exalts a Samaritan as an exemplar of faith. He completes the portrait Jesus had begun to paint when he began his journey, of the Samaritan who showed mercy to a neighbor. That parable displayed the 2nd part of the greatest commandment, to love our neighbor as ourselves. Today’s story highlights the first part: “love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind and strength.” And what does loving God look like? It looks like glorifying God for being the One from whom all blessings flow. It looks like having the insight and the nerve to stop, pivot, return, and praise. Find the good, and praise it. 

So in these two Samaritans – on one end the Good Samaritan, and on the other end, the Thankful Samaritan – we see an illustration of the essence of Jewish, and now Christian, law: show mercy to those in need, and be thankful for when God’s mercy is received. Sometimes we do the good, we show the mercy, like the first Samaritan. And sometimes the good is simply to acknowledge God’s goodness and mercy, and praise it, and praise God for it. Both sides of the coin – both giving mercy and gratefully receiving God's mercy – are a part of faith, and part of the mission of the Church. And sometimes, the good, the mercy-showing, the thanksgiving, the praising… happens outside of our Christian circles. Sometimes there is something to learn about faith from a Muslim, a Hindu, an atheist, or a humanist. Find the good, wherever it is, and praise it – praise it in ways not that divide, but rather, that knit our broken world back together. 

When Jesus “set his face toward Jerusalem,” toward death and new life, he knew that the road would have to go through Samaria. And so is it the case for us, that moving toward the death and resurrection that we know is a part of our lives even in a million little ways, requires us to go through the local neighborhood, through reconciling with and learning from the supposed adversaries right in our community. We find the good, and praise it, trusting that God has put a variety of people in our paths in order for us to learn ever more about what it means to be the merciful, thankful, worshipful Church together. 

Let us pray… Merciful God, as broken as we are, there is still so much good that you have put in the world. Empower us to find that good, in whatever form it may take, and to praise it, trusting that you have enabled all things good. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: What faith is and isn't (Oct 2, 2022)

 Pentecost 17C (Day after Mortgage Burning)
October 2, 2022
Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4
2 Timothy 1:1-14
Luke 17:5-10

INTRODUCTION

Our Gospel reading today will begin with the disciples asking, “Increase our faith!” This could summarize all of our readings today – all of them reflect on this concept of faith that we throw around with ease, but don’t always seem to fully understand. All of our readings will give us a little glimpse into what it means to have faith. So listen for what you can learn from each text!

One other quick note: I won’t be addressing this in my sermon, but wanted to mention it: the Gospel includes a parable about slavery, one that may grate on our 21st century ears. Indeed, this text was used as a pro-slavery text, used to keep oppressed people oppressed. I want to be clear that this was not Jesus’ intention! Rather, it is about how a life of faith is about doing good works, not in order to be commended or saved, but because that is just what we do, because it is who we are. I’m happy to talk more about that later, if you wish. 

Okay, now let us hear what the Spirit is saying!

[READ]

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

Yesterday was a pretty exciting day for St. Paul’s: 17 years after taking out a mortgage to pay for a large addition and renovation of our building, we burned our mortgage! Plenty of people didn’t think we’d ever pull it off, that indeed this would break the church, but with faith and devotion, by God we did it. We celebrated the ministry that has been done in this place, and looked forward to the ministry we will do in it. Those of you who were here in the early 2000s and through that project no doubt remember that it was a huge undertaking, one that required a big step out in faith.

We often throw around that word – faith. We say it like everyone knows just what it means, just what it entails. But really, it is such an elusive word, difficult to define, and even more difficult to live. And, we can never seem to have enough of it. So we can resonate with the plea of the disciples in our Gospel lesson today: “Increase our faith!”

Who has not uttered that prayer at some point? When things seem not to be going our way – increase our faith! When we are confused about what is happening in our lives – increase our faith! When we really want to believe, but just can’t seem to find it in our hearts at this moment – increase our faith! When our church faces struggles, or conflict, or we are unsure how the bills will get paid, or how God is planning to get us through this or that trial – increase our faith!

It is a plea familiar to us all. As it turns out, it has been familiar to God’s people throughout history, and so the Bible has much to tell us about faith – what it is, what it isn’t, and how it might play out in our lives. Several of these insights are present in our readings today. 

First, from Luke we learn that faith is not something that can be quantified. That familiar plea, “increase our faith,” doesn’t really make sense. It may sound like Jesus is admonishing the disciples for not having enough faith, but it is the opposite: Jesus is saying that the amount of faith is not what matters – indeed faith as small as a mustard seed can do very great things! To be someone of “little” faith, then, is commendable! And so it is unhelpful to think of faith as a thing that can be counted. Better to think instead of faith as a relationship – specifically a relationship of trusting God. And if we can enter that relationship of utter trust in God, then Jesus is exactly right: we can do anything, even uproot a mulberry bush and plant it in the sea, even undertake a $1.4 million building project in order to accommodate a growing church and her ministry, and to make the building welcoming and accessible to all who want to enter.

A friend was telling me the other day about when she was in college, and her roommate, who was a rock-climbing instructor, brought her to a climbing gym. My friend, who had never been rock-climbing before, harnessed up and tentatively starting climbing the wall. Partway up the wall, her roommate called out, “Okay, now let go!” “No way!” shouted back my friend. “I’ll fall!” “No, you won’t,” returned the seasoned instructor. “The harness will catch you! You won’t fall.” Finally, with fear and trepidation, my friend did as she was told and let go – and sure enough, the harness held her. As she dangled there, she felt liberated, the fear of falling totally gone, and suddenly the prospect of climbing was a lot easier. She scampered up the rest of the wall without fear.

And that is how faith-as-trust works. If we trust God, we might still fall, but we need not fear it if we do, because that faith, that trust, will catch us. With that assurance, we can step out in faith into whatever it is we feel God calling us to do.

The prophet Habakkuk’s lesson in faith is simple and all too well known: faith isn’t easy. His is a context wrought with injustice and violence, and so he cries out to the Lord for an accounting of this situation. He cries in words that are also very familiar to us: “How long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?” How long will I endure this illness or ailment? How long will my grief feel so crippling? How long will I be unemployed? How long do I have to pray for help, and get no reply from God? 

And God’s answer to Habakkuk? The same answer we often seem to receive: wait. And that is what makes faith so hard. It requires patience. As Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, “We hope for what we do not see, [and] we wait for it with patience.” We have to wait a lot, don’t we? We wait for red lights to change, we wait in line, we wait for test results, we wait for a friend or family member to come around – so much of life is waiting! Having to wait for God’s promises to be fulfilled can be the hardest waiting of all, and that, more than anything, is when we need to understand faith as trust – trust that those promises will someday be fulfilled.

As we wait, it is hard not to have doubts. But that is what our Psalm tells us – that faith offers consolation when we find ourselves in doubt. You see, faith and doubt are not opposites. Indeed some of the most faithful people in history have been wracked with doubt. Martin Luther believed that struggle is not at odds with faith, but rather, struggle is a mark of faith – without struggle, he said, faith isn’t genuine. 

Our culture would have us believe that faith and doubt are incompatible opposites. But faith is not so much an absence of doubt as it is a commitment to believe even when you are surrounded by doubt. Sort of like the relationship between courage and fear. I remember, when I was going through cancer treatments, people often told me I was courageous. But I sure didn’t feel very courageous! One wise friend told me that you don’t need to feel courageous to be courageous. Courage is doing what needs to be done even when you do have fear. Indeed, you wouldn’t need courage if you never had fear – and neither would you need faith if you never had doubts. Faith is continuing to trust and believe even in the midst of doubt. 

And that is where the Psalm comes in. The Psalm each week is chosen to respond to the Old Testament reading. So today’s Psalm, in response to Habakkuk’s discouragement, is that even as we doubt and have to wait, there is joy and delight in being caught up in God’s promises. When we find ourselves in that wonder, and let ourselves experience the delight of God’s promises, we find ourselves free, even for just a moment, from our usual worrying about the future. When we have faith in God’s love, when we trust God’s love, it casts out our fears. 

And finally, we have an encouraging word from this letter to Timothy, speaking to Timothy’s faith, and also hearkening the faith of Timothy’s mother and grandmother. This letter reminds us that faith is not something we do alone. It is something passed down to us by our family – as it has been passed down here at St. Paul’s for more than 150 years, and continues to be passed down every time we have a baptism, or teach Sunday School, or sing hymns together, or confirm young adults, or study the Bible, or eat together at this Table. It is something you may have shared with your family around your own dinner table, or during bedtime prayers, or even while you were out fishing with your grandchild. Faith is shared every time we talk with each other – with friends, children, or even strangers – about how our faith has shaped our words, thoughts, and actions, how it was present with us in times of joy and sorrow, times of waiting and times of satisfaction. 

Faith is a gift, given to us first by Christ in baptism, and continually apparent to us through all the people in our lives who have shared faith with us through worship, prayer, song, sacraments, and conversation. As Timothy shows us, faith is and always has been communal, an experience of the risen Christ together and throughout time. 

And so today we continue yesterday’s celebration: we celebrate the myriad ways St. Paul’s faith has increased in her encounters with God’s promises; we celebrate how those promises have been embraced and passed down in times of waiting and times of joy; we celebrate how we still come together to share in love, worship, song, and sacrament, surrounded in the promise of new life in Christ. Thanks be to God! In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Full service can be watched HERE. 

A week of a micro-capsule

 I had such fun with the Wool& 100 day dress challenge that I decided to do another of their quirky clothing challenges. This one is called the 7x7 Challenge: only 7 items, for 7 days. 

The purpose behind it is to show people how few clothes you actually need, and how just a few items can in fact yield many different outfits. As I have written about here and here and here, having a lot of clothes doesn't actually make my life better. Like most Americans, I have way more clothes than I need. But, I don't love them, or I get overwhelmed by the decision of what to wear each day. In fact, deciding what to wear was wearing me down. It wasn't a joyful way to start each day; instead, it started each day with a burden. 

I have long been intrigued by the possibility of a capsule wardrobe. I have pored over blogs describing Project 333, dreaming about whether I could do it, imagining how much better my life could be if I did... and then talking myself out of it, saying, "I don't think I like any of my clothes enough to wear them that often," or perhaps even more, "I don't think any of my clothes are versatile enough to do that." I put the dream back in its box, and shoved my clothes a little more tightly together to make them fit in my half of the closet or drawers. 

But then along came the 100 Day Dress Challenge. Here was a garment (a black Willow swing dress) that was versatile enough, and comfortable and durable enough, to wear every day for three months! And it wasn't even that hard. Suddenly, my dream of a clothing capsule seemed more in reach than ever.

So you can understand why, when this 7x7 challenge came up, I had to try it. A week felt like nothing compared to 100 days. And 7 whole items felt like a luxury! (The 7 items don't include shoes, pajamas, undergarments, jewelry, or exercise clothes used for their intended purpose.) 

Excitedly, I set aside a morning to pick my capsule. The week's weather included temps ranging from 50s to 80s, rain and sun, and the week's events ranged from chores around the house to dinner at a parishioner's house to officiating a funeral. I started off by picking a scarf I love, that I knew I could wear in multiple ways - a black infinity scarf with a pattern of blue, white, and maroon. This would be my color palette. Having a palette made the rest much easier.

I knew I'd want my trusty black dress, and one other dress. I vacillated between my blue and my plum options, and finally landed on plum because the style was more professional and I knew I had multiple professional occasions. I chose one pair of leggings, maroon to make the plain black more interesting, and a pair of black tights to dress up either dress for the more professional events. I knew I would need a jacket for both cooler weather and a more professional look, so one black stretchy blazer-style jacket was added. Finally, I chose a striped shirt that I could wear over either dress to dress them down, or alone with the leggings. Though I was unlimited as far as shoes and jewelry, I wore only two necklaces (my pectoral cross and my quirky locket that is a watch face with a propellor), various earrings, and one pair of shoes (black flats). (Note: I did not include my clergy collar, after consulting with others doing the challenge. It was a professional requirement, not a part of the outfit, and was only worn under the dress for part of each day I needed it. I had considered counting it anyway, until I found out my black tights would count as an item, and I ran out of space!)

I shoved everything else in my closet way over to the side, and hung everything except the tights in the space I made on the end. They looked so nice hanging there, with so much room all around them! It made me feel so calm and in control. Each day, I truly loved looking at those few items and deciding how to combine them. I had one day I ended up staying home sick all day, and I was bummed that it meant I wouldn't get to wear one of the outfits I had planned. (But yes, my black dress is comfy enough that this is what I wore all day, and quite happily I will add!)

If the weather weren't going to cool down significantly in the next week, I would happily do another week with these same seven items. I would add only a belt, an additional sweater, and another pair of leggings. I think I could easily add even a few more items and take this capsule up to the 33 items allotted for Project 333 (33 items for three months). And I'm feeling ready to purge some more items, or at least put them in a box to see if I miss them at all. 

Here are my big take-aways:

1)  Having fewer clothes to choose from makes my life better. I learned this with the 100 day dress challenge, but even there, although I knew I was wearing my one dress, I had seemingly infinite options of things to wear with it. In fact, I only repeated a couple of outfits in that 100 days. So there is still some overwhelm by having so many options.

2) Having fewer options also yielded more creativity. Guidelines and boundaries allow my creativity to flow much better than having unlimited options.

3) If you're interested in doing this, choosing a palette to work with is a great approach. The reason I chose that scarf is I knew that the colors in it are all colors I love to wear, that I feel good wearing, so it's no surprise that I have several items of clothings that fit that palette. Everything I chose could be worn with multiple other things. Without including the scarf or jacket, I can think of 9 different arrangements. I could add the scarf to any of those, or the jacket to any of those, for 27 outfits. I could add both scarf and jacket to any of those and double that. Then add in all the different shoes or jewelry I could wear, or different ways I could style my hair, and... well, you get the point! 

In conclusion, this was fun. I will get $15 for completing the challenge, but I would recommend it for anyone even without the reward. I learned a lot!

Here are my 7 days:

Day 1 - Casual and comfy, since I did chores and errands all day. (Day off outfit!)

Day 2 - I was the chaplain for the NY Guard Change of Command Ceremony. My husband Michael was taking on the command of his detachment! The chaplain couldn't be there, so they asked me. After this, I ditched the collar and wore just the plum dress with my quirky necklace, and wore this out to dinner at a parishioner's house that night.

Day 3 - Sunday worship. Again, I ditched the collar after, and lounged about in just my dress.

Day 4 - I stayed home sick this day with a cold and fatigue. :( I was quite happy to wear just my black Willow all day, un-styled, since it basically feels as comfy as pajamas anyway. 

Day 5 - Two pictures this day. First is from officiating a funeral in the morning. That evening, I went out with some moms from church, so I took off the collar and added a scarf.

Day 6 and 7 - typical days in the office.

Sermon: What has God entrusted to you? (Sept. 18, 2022)

Pentecost 15C
September 18, 2022
Luke 16:1-13

INTRODUCTION

The section of Luke we hear from today and next week are both concerned with how we manage our money. Amos addresses it, too – the prophet rails against those who can’t wait to get past the sabbath so they can start making money again, and not just making money, but doing so in a way that takes advantage of the poor by messing with the standard currencies. Amos warns us that the Lord will not forget this deceitfulness!

But Luke will give us a different view, in one of Jesus’ more challenging but incredibly gracious parables: the dishonest, or shrewd, manager. In this parable, the manager of a rich man’s property will squander that property, and then try to salvage his reputation by dishonest means… only to then be commended by the rich man! The difference in Amos and Luke is that in one, the poor are taken advantage of, and in the other, they are helped. 

One more comment about our readings, about Timothy. You have probably noticed that we often pray aloud in the prayers of intercession for our president. Though I won’t be preaching on it, the passage we will hear today from Timothy is the reason we do that. I’m happy to talk more about that if you’d like.

Ok, as you listen: both Amos and Luke deal with the messiness of human relationships and emotions, especially in relation to wealth, so as you listen, think about your own relationship with money, and how that affects your relationships with people, those you know and those you don’t know. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

The parable Jesus tells today is a real prickly one. It seems to bring up more questions than answers. The last sentence is clear enough – “you cannot worship both God and wealth” – but it’s less clear how the parable supports it! Who’s supposed to be the good guy in this story? Why would Jesus be lifting up an anti-hero to teach us something about God and faith? Why is he commending dishonesty? Is he asking us to be dishonest in how we engage with others? And how on earth are we supposed to relate this to our lives in a positive, faithful way?

            Or maybe a better version of that last question is: what does God have to say, about how we manage or use our money and resources? If we are looking for a way that biblical witness meets our day-to-day challenges, there is hardly a bigger challenge than that of our relationship to money. Money is one of those taboo topics – we do not talk about it, especially not in the church. Yet every single day we make important decisions about money – and then, in many cases, experience the impact of these decisions on our relationships. So knowing what our faith has to say about it might be pretty important! So let’s dig in.

But before we get into this parable specifically, let’s talk more generally about what the Bible says about money. There are a couple of scriptural themes regarding money, that come up in today’s readings. One is that wealth is fleeting. Look at this manager – one day he is doing great, with a good job, making lots of money. The next, he is out everything. Careful as we may be with money, no one is immune to this – think how many people lost everything during the 2008 recession! The same can be true about privilege, power, popularity, or any number of other idols we look to in our lives: turns out, all these idols are fickle and fleeting, but God and God’s Word stand strong and stable. God makes for a much better master than wealth, prestige, power, or popularity.

Another scriptural theme about money is that wealth is both a blessing and a responsibility, and our faith is expressed not in how much wealth we have, but in how we use that wealth. In today’s text from Amos, Amos begins, “Hear this, you that trample the needy and bring to ruin the poor of the land!” It would seem God is pretty unimpressed by those who use their wealth not only to serve themselves before others, but to actually oppress others by their wealth! Now, this may seem far removed from us. While we can accept that, on a global scale at least, we are among the richest in the world, we would never trample the poor, intentionally oppressing them! But… what about when we buy single-use items, or housewares that we don’t really need? Or drive when we could have walked? Or update our wardrobes each season, tossing the old stuff in the trash? Where do all the resources come from to live our first world lifestyle, to make all our new stuff, and the single-use packaging it comes in? Who is making them? How might making these goods be affecting those people’s health? The people who bear the brunt of our buying habits are some of the poorest in the world, who work in unsafe conditions, whose homes become dumping grounds for our garbage, whose land is destroyed to make more factories. Hm, suddenly Amos’s words aren’t so far removed after all! Even if we don’t do it consciously, our first world lifestyle does indeed trample the poor. Yet God is pretty clear that we are to use our wealth not to trample others, but to help and serve them.

Said another way, God grants us wealth and resources not to serve ourselves first, as in a vacuum apart from anyone else, but rather, as a means to be in relationship with one another. Which brings us to the dishonest steward. He had a good job and made lots of money, but when he suddenly loses everything, he is distressed about his future. You see, his true tragedy is not that he has lost his job, but that when crisis hits, he has no one to turn to. He has no friends, no family to take him in. He is desperate, afraid and ashamed he will have to resort to begging. But, shrewd as he is, he quickly recognizes that the solution to his predicament is that he needs to form some relationships. And so he uses the last of his resources, his last days in his job, to make himself some friends. Dishonest or not, he finally uses his resources not to make money, but to form relationships with others.

And this, I think, is something we can really sink our teeth into. I know there are some among us who make enough money to be very generous in their giving, and are. There are others among us who barely scrape by, and are as generous as they are able to be. But regardless of your particular income and expenses, what is true for all of us is that we have been entrusted with many resources: financial, physical, personal, relational, and more. And these resources, while they are often enjoyed by the one who possesses them, are to be used primarily in the effort to form, build, and strengthen relationships with one another, to serve one another, to love one another. Maybe your greatest resource is money, and you can give it away. Maybe your greatest resource is time, and you use it to serve and volunteer. Maybe your greatest resource is eloquence, and you use it to speak out against injustice. Maybe your greatest resource is compassion, and you use it to reach out to those in pain, and offer healing. What resources has God entrusted to you?

Of course, this is true on an institutional level as well. What resources has God entrusted to our congregation, that would allow us to serve and build relationship with our community? Could our financial and human resources serve refugees in the area, who have lost almost everything, even their homes (which we’ll hear more about after worship)? Could we better use our beautiful building, recently paid off? Could our well-educated congregation use our intellectual resources to help at-risk kids better their education? Could our wonderful music program, kicking off again today, make our broader community better? How can we best use what God has entrusted to us?

God looked down upon a broken humanity and saw that the only thing that would save them was to give what was most precious to him: God’s own son. And so he did. God gave his son, so that we would not perish, but have eternal life, so that we would be freed from sin and freed for service and love toward each other. So that we would know what love and grace and forgiveness look and feel like. So that we could offer that gift to one another. How, then, will we use the wealth of resources that are entrusted to us to build and strengthen the community in which we have been placed?

Let us pray… Giving God, this world is such a complicated one, and as we try to find our way in it, try to find YOUR way in it, we are grateful for the gift of your living Word. Guide us by that word, and help us to see how we might use the resources you have entrusted to us to love and serve one another. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

View full service HERE.

Sermon: I once was lost (Sept. 11, 2022)

Full service can be viewed online HERE. (Beginning at 36:50) This was preached at our picnic, so the audio may not be as good!

Pentecost 14C
September 11, 2022
Luke 15:1-10

INTRODUCTION

Today we hear some texts about what it is like to be lost, and to be found once again. The first story we will hear is a part of the story you may know as “the golden calf.” Here’s the set-up: Moses, having already delivered the 10 Commandments, has been back up on Mount Sinai, talking to God. In the absence of their leader, the Israelites are starting to feel a bit lost, shall we say, and so they melt together all of their metal and create a golden calf, which, when Moses returns from the mountain, he finds them worshipping. In this idol, they find something to bring them together, to focus their efforts. But, it’s a big no-no, as they should know, since the 10 Commandments say very clearly: you shall have no idols, and worship nothing besides the one true God. Well, God is pretty miffed by this, and, well, I’ll let you listen to hear what happens next. 

The Psalm is a cry of lament and repentance, the song of someone who knows he has wandered away from God and toward evil. It’s what David writes after he commits adultery with Bathsheba and then has her husband murdered. He begs God to find him and accept him once again into God’s mercy.

Then in the Gospel we will hear two beloved parables: the lost sheep and the lost coin, in which the subjects (a shepherd in the first and a woman in the second) search tirelessly for something that is lost, and then throw a celebration party when it is found. These are told in the context of the Pharisees grumbling that Jesus spends his time with notorious sinners – those who are lost, you might say – and the stories indicate that no one is lost beyond God’s care.

As you listen, think about a time when you have felt lost, physically, emotionally, or spiritually – perhaps following a job loss, or a death, or a move. If that time resulted in feeling found, how did that feel, and what was your response? Let’s listen to what the Lord is saying.

[READ]

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

School started for kids in Rochester public schools this week. Parents and teachers know that, with the start of school, comes all the paperwork, and acquiring of supplies, and figuring out schedules. It’s all a lot! In addition, Grace’s birthday party was yesterday, so I’ve been communicating with all the parents of her friends about that. One of those parents, whom I only just met, texted me about meet-the-teacher day. “I think I threw out the paper they sent,” she said. “What time is it at?” I told her, and confessed that usually I’m the mom texting someone that I lost the paper, so it was a relief to be the one who knew the answer this time! She laughed and said, “I’m literally horrible!” 

It was a playful enough exchange, but I actually found it very heartening, that we were able to be real with each other, though we hardly know each other’s names. We often spend so much energy trying to look like we have everything together, right? And yet here, with this woman I barely know, we were both able to say, “I regularly fail at this!” and honestly, it was liberating! I felt seen.

Or, in light of today’s gospel reading, I might say, “I felt found!” Because sometimes, the effort just to keep up with life, let alone thrive at it, is enough to make someone feel pretty lost. The stress, the distractions, the disconnection from people and places and activities that bring us joy – it can all send us wandering off into the wilderness, and we lose that feeling of being safe and secure. 

But when we start to feel that way, start to feel lost, instead of finding our way back to our home base, I find that we often just try to mask it. We post the happiest moments on social media, making our lives look rosy to all our followers and friends. People ask how we are, and we say, “Fine!” when we are, in fact, far from fine.

It’s as if when we are lost, our response is not to acknowledge our state, but rather, to hide – how counter-intuitive is that! We hide our feelings, and even hide our authentic selves. We hide behind masks of fakeness, trying to be something or someone we’re not, to fit in. We hide behind exaggerations of a self we wish we were. Sometimes we do even hide physically, avoiding human contact, numbing the pain with substances, nursing our wounds and feeling sorry for ourselves, but never stepping out the door so someone can see us, can find us. We stay hidden. We stay lost. And if today’s readings are any indication (and they are!) – that is not God’s will for us. God made us uniquely wonderful, and flawed, and beloved just as we are, even as God loves us too much to let us stay lost in the wilderness, or in a dark corner of the house.

Almost 10 years ago now, you may remember, there was a school clerk named Antoinette Tuff, who prevented a mass school shooting by talking with the gunman for about an hour. He told her he didn’t have anything to live for, he was ready to die that day, and he would take anyone with him. He was, in short, lost. But she didn’t duck and run for cover – she listened to him. She told stories about her own life, times she had felt the same way. She sought connection. She respected him. She told him she loved him and was proud of him.  She told him he did have something to live for. She related to him. She prayed for him. She grounded the whole experience, terrified as she was, in her faith in God. In that hour of conversation, Ms. Tuff went into the wilderness and found a lost young man, humanized him, and in the end, convinced him to surrender, to turn around… to repent. 

In Jesus’ explanation of today’s parables, he says there is joy in heaven over a sinner who repents. Whether you’re a notorious sinner like the ones in our Gospel, or by and large a pretty righteous person, we all fall short of the glory of God. We all can feel lost at times. We are all “prone to wander,” as our gathering hymn said. "Prone to leave the God [we] love." And so even if we are mostly good people, repentance is something in which we always need to engage. Repentance, you see, is a reorientation, a turning around, a turning toward God. And so when we lose our way, but then turn back toward God, or are found by God, God rejoices. God rejoices when, in our lostness, we look out and search for God. God rejoices when we reach out to others who may be lost, and instead of judging them, or running from their pain and brokenness… we sit with them there, offering them a place of solace, a place where they can know they are seen, and loved, that they are found. 

Being found. That, of course, is the good news in our Gospel reading today. Because even when we are so lost that we can’t on our own turn toward God, God still goes all out to find us. As the parable goes, a sheep wandered into the wilderness, and the shepherd left the other 99 to go find that lost sheep. The woman lost a coin and searched tirelessly until she found it. Jesus asks, “Who of you would not go to these great lengths to find these lost things?” The way he asks, it seems like the answer is, “Everyone, Jesus! Of course ,we would!” But would we? Leave the 99 sheep for the sake of one? That’s impractical, even irresponsible. Most of us would cut our losses, move on, and maybe be more careful in the future. But that’s the point, you see? We wouldn’t do that. We wouldn’t go to the extremes that the shepherd and the woman in the stories do to find what is lost, and celebrate what is found.

We wouldn’t, but God does. Our God is not about being practical. Our God doesn’t cut losses and move on. Our God goes into the wilderness to find us when we are lost. Our God tears the house apart until we are found. And in both of these stories, what happens when what once was lost is now found? Celebration! As the shepherd and the woman call together all their friends and have a party, so does God bring together all the company of angels to celebrate that a lost sheep has been found, that a coin has been recovered. God isn’t mad at us for getting lost. When God finds us, we are welcomed back with a huge smile and a look of relief. There is celebration in heaven when we return to God, when we return home.

Let us pray… Impractical God, we are prone to wander. But your grace is amazing, and we give you thanks that you find us when we get lost. Find us when we wander, and encourage us to turn once again toward you, our home and resting place. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Cost of discipleship (Sept. 4, 2022)

 Full service can be viewed HERE. Sermon begins at 33 min.

Pentecost 13C
September 4, 2022
Luke 14:25-33

INTRODUCTION

I want to give you a bit of context for our first reading today. As you may recall, the Israelites spent 40 years wandering in the wilderness in search of the Promised Land. The part that we hear today is the end of that, as they are about to enter. Moses knows he is about to die, and is giving them some last instructions before entering this land, which is already occupied – by people who do not worship the God of Israel. This is the climax of Moses’ speech, and, contextual as it is, these words are still so valuable for us today!

For the Philemon text, I encourage you to read the little contextual blurb in the bulletin, which will make this short letter (we’ll hear the whole thing!) more meaningful.

And the Gospel… oof. It’s a doozie. Keep in mind, that this is still the part of Jesus’ life where he is traveling to Jerusalem to what he knows will be his death. Many are following him, and he will lay out for them what it means to be a disciple. Warning: it ain’t easy! But I’ll try to unpack that a bit in the sermon. Here we go – let’s listen!

[READ]

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

I admit, when I sat down on Monday to see what the Gospel was this week, I said aloud, “Oh no…” Nope, I do not like preaching on this Gospel lesson. And who would? It’s cringy all the way through – hating our family members, taking up our cross, giving away all our possessions? Come on, Jesus! Be realistic! This is no way to gain followers!

Interpreters have taken two approaches to this difficult teaching. The one you have probably heard in sermons (and I have probably preached) is to interpret Jesus’ words not literally, but as a hyperbolic way of saying that we must give up our attachment to family and possessions, these things that we often consider to be of utmost importance in our lives. This approach points out that while these things are not bad in themselves, we must not let them hinder us from living out the Gospel. Makes sense, yeah?

The other approach is to say that Jesus did mean these things literally, but they are only aimed at a subset of Christians – for example, monastics, with their vow of poverty, chastity and obedience, or even people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Dorothy Day, or Desmond Tutu. While the good news of salvation is for all people, the role of disciple is reserved for only a few, and the rest of us are more like, “friends of disciples,” who support disciples where and how we can, and are inspired by them, and even follow their example intermittently in some areas of our lives.

I feel better about both of these approaches to this text… except not really, because I know the reason I feel better is that I have been let off the hook for the difficult life Jesus calls us to. And while I very much like when God’s grace lets me off the hook for things like, say, my captivity to sin… I also know that a faith that takes that good news, says, “Thank you very much,” and then basically buries it in a hole without letting it change me or how I live my life – is really no faith at all. 

So, where is the path that takes Jesus’ words seriously, but still allows us to maintain the healthy family relationships that bring us joy, and secure lives and homes that allow us to thrive?

Since I have preached on that first approach before, let’s approach this question from the perspective of the second one, the idea that there are “disciples” – who are called to a more austere life – and there are “friends of disciples,” who still live and work among society as a whole. Before we go on, let me make sure we are clear. First, we are accustomed to using the word “disciple” in reference to any devout person of faith. But in this context, I’ll be using the word “disciple” for a very specific kind of disciple – the kind who literally gives up everything to follow Jesus.

Second, I want to make clear that one of these, “disciple” or “friend of disciple,” is not necessarily better or more than the other. Both are needed, and both are valid roles to which Jesus calls people. In fact, if you look through the Gospel of Luke, you will find that he only explicitly invites 14 people to follow him: the 12 disciples (each of whom, Luke tells us, “left everything and followed him,” which we see is expected for the gig), and then two others. One is the rich man who went away grieving because he could not bear to give away all his possessions. The other is the guy who said, “Ok, but first let me bury my father.” Jesus then gives him a different call, to “go and proclaim the kingdom.” And that shift is significant – the man is not prepared at that time for the costly call of discipleship, but that doesn’t mean he is not still called to a life of active faith, to proclaiming the gospel. And this is okay! In fact, if you look at all the healing stories in Luke, Jesus never invites someone who was healed, whose life has been transformed by the gospel, to follow him. No, he says, “Your faith has saved you,” or, “Go in peace,” or, “Go and tell others what God has done for you.” You see – he tells them to go and tell, not to follow! Now, some of them do follow him as a part of a crowd, but Jesus doesn’t actually invite them to do so. What’s that about?

Well, keeping all that in mind, let’s return to today’s difficult text. This large crowd is following him. They see there is something very special, even transformative about this man, and they say, “This is pretty great! I’d like to be a disciple.” But Jesus of course knows what that entails – after all, he is at this point on his way to Jerusalem to be killed, and he is also well aware that his teachings are upsetting the Jewish and Roman authorities. A disciple of his, he knows, could be killed. Hence, they must have no attachments, and have to be willing to give up everything. That sort of call is not for everyone. And indeed, if everyone did do that, I’m not so sure we would have a church today, because if no one had any familial ties or places to stay or things to eat, if no one stuck around to care for one another – how could they survive? 

So, as he is hearing people talking about being his disciple, he wants to make very clear what that actually means: “If you want to be my disciple,” he says, “you’ve got to be willing to give up everything – family, home, and things, even your life.” Because if someone comes into this role half-heartedly, and doesn’t first count the cost, and can’t do it, it will look bad for that person, for Jesus, and for the whole movement. If this isn’t the call for you, he is saying, then don’t worry – the good news is still for you, and, there are other ways you can serve the kingdom. 

I met a woman on a plane once, Maxine, who was on her way to Ann Arbor, MI to become a nun. She was young, beautiful, and successful, and she could hardly wait to give it all up and start her life in the convent, so deeply did she feel God calling her to this ministry of word and prayer. As she described what her life would be, I shook my head in wonder. “I don’t think I could do it,” I said. And she said, “Well that’s because God hasn’t called you to this ministry. God has called you to the ministry of word and sacrament, and the ministry of marriage, and of motherhood.” 

It was a clarifying moment for me in my own sense of vocation. Our black and white brains might hear a text like today and think, “Well I can’t do what Jesus asks here, so I guess I can’t be a disciple.” But that does not mean that we take the good news, then go about our lives as if nothing has changed. Jesus does not call us all to the life of a monastic, nor to a life like Dietrich Bonhoeffer or Oscar Romero or Dorothy Day or Mother Teresa. Jesus does call us all to a life of transforming and transformative faith, in which we are always open to and heeding the ways that God is using us to bring about the kingdom, or bring about life for those around us, in whatever situation or ministry to which we have been uniquely called. Sometimes that means working to be less attached to things like our possessions or money or even our families, not letting them hinder our faith. Sometimes it looks like taking up a figurative cross and doing a hard thing for the sake of the gospel. Sometimes it simply means being a good friend to someone in need. A life of devout faith can look different for different people. But whether or not we are called to the sort of discipleship that Jesus describes here, we are all called to something, and we are all recipients of the good news of Jesus Christ, which promises to transform us and bring us to life.

Let us pray… Transforming God, you call us to a life of faith, a life that can be as difficult as it is transformative and life-giving. Keep us attuned to how you plan to use us, and encourage us to leave behind all that would keep us from your kingdom goal. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.