Sermon: You are called to freedom - love each other (June 26, 2022)

Full service HERE.

Pentecost 3C/Proper 8C
June 26, 2022
Galatians 5:1, 13-25
Luke 9:51-62

INTRODUCTION

Today’s texts will show us both the joys and the challenges of discipleship. In the Gospel, after rebuking his disciples for wanting to get vengeance on some Samaritans who don’t welcome them, Jesus tells three would-be disciples about how challenging it can be to follow him. In Galatians, we will hear about how tempting it can be to give in to our fleshly desires, like jealously, anger, drunkenness… quite a list. In contrast, Paul will offer, when we live by the Spirit, we will see the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. This is the life God wants for us!

The first reading from 1st Kings is pretty difficult to follow without any context. So here’s some: just before this, Elijah killed all the prophets of the false god, Ba-al, and Queen Jezebel is furious! She wants Elijah killed. Elijah runs off to the wilderness, where he finally lands, exhausted, depressed, and begging God just to kill him now. After giving Elijah rest and food, God tells him to go out and stand in a cave on Mount Sinai, where Elijah encounters wind, an earthquake, and fire, but God is found in the sound of sheer silence. And God asks him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Elijah laments, “I’m the only faithful person left in Israel, and they’re trying to kill me!” What we will hear in a moment is God’s reply, which is basically, “I’m sending you to completely rearrange the political and spiritual order in and around Israel” (you know, no big deal), including anointing Elijah’s successor, Elisha. In the missing verses, God promises that there are still 7000 people in Israel who remain faithful. And then we will hear the part of the story in which Elijah passes the prophetic mantle on to Elisha, a call Elisha will in turn take very seriously, by basically eliminating his past life.

Yes, discipleship is difficult, and often requires some sacrifice! As you listen today, listen for some nugget that will help you in your own life of discipleship, that will give you strength for the journey ahead. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

         I took a class in college as a part of my religion major on theologies of the 20th century. It was an incredible class – our conversations were fascinating, and I never worked so hard in a class. (I've never been prouder of an A-!) One thing in particular that the professor said has really stuck with me. She said, “Lots of things are true: the sky is blue, I love my dog, Christ died so that we would have freedom from death. They are all true. But which of those will you stake your life on?”

         Which of these will you stake your life on? The question has nagged at me through every crisis I have had since then – whether a crisis of faith, or a more tangible crisis, or a combination. What truth will you stake your life on? And of all those things, I bet you can guess which is the one that gets me through a crisis. I’ll give you a hint: it is not the color of the sky.

         “You were called for freedom. Love each other as Christ has loved you. Guided by the Spirit, find joy, peace, and love.” This short song was written by Pastor Matthew Nickoloff, of the South Wedge Mission congregation. It’s based on today’s text from Galatians: “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” The text goes on to urge us to live not by desires of the flesh, but by the Spirit, describing the fruits of such a life as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, and self-control. These fruits, or virtues, says the apostle Paul, are the ones we embrace when we live in a way that is guided by the Spirit, by Christ, by love for one another, and not by self-indulgence. In short, this is what it looks like to live in Christian freedom, to live a life that reflects the truth that Christ died to free us from sin and death.

         It sounds like a pretty good life, right? Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, self-control… these are all things that we want to teach our children, because we know that without those things, the world can be a pretty nasty place. Michael and I frequently tell our kids, “We want you to be successful, but most of all, we want you to be kind.” We want to instill in them a value of treating others with respect and love, so that they will indeed find delight in loving and treating people well. Who wouldn’t want to live a life like that?

         And yet, we don’t always do it. We all, at some point, give in to self-indulgence, and do not do what is kind or loving or patient or generous, but rather what indulges our broken, human desires in that moment. At some point we are all like the disciples in today’s Gospel lesson. They encounter the Samaritans, whom they already despised for their different historical and racial background (see, prejudice based on race has long been an issue!). When they discover these Samaritans will not receive Jesus as he travels through their country, they are outraged. They likely think, “Oh, this is the last straw. Those people, those Samaritans, are no good. They worship wrong, their blood is tainted by the enemy, they do not belong to our kind. And now this! Of course they would be behave like this, rejecting Jesus. We already knew they were bad people, and this just confirms it.” With all of their past opinions, assumptions and prejudices as proof of the validity of their hatred, the disciples ask Jesus, “Do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven to consume them?” Their response is not to love, but to destroy! Granted, they offer this with the best of intentions – they are defending their Lord, after all! Surely, he would agree with them; after all, don’t we always assume that Jesus loves or rejects all the same people as we do?

         Now, I’m going to assume that no one here has ever wished death and destruction on an entire town based on one action. But I’m also guessing everyone here has at some point, maybe even in the past few days, wished or spoken some sort of ill or punishment against someone who upset us, or who acted in a way that pushed against our deeply held values, or who said something offensive, or who treated someone we love cruelly. We see this behavior all the time: in politics, in our workplaces, in our families, in our friend groups, on both social media and traditional media. We see it in others, and yes, we see it in ourselves. And the worst thing is, sometimes it feels good to voice something nasty about someone else, even if it’s something we don’t really mean. And, we can convince ourselves that our anger is righteous, and justified. And frankly, it may well be! 

But as good as it may feel in the moment, such a nasty response is not the way Christ intends for us to use our Christian freedom. The Constitution may grant us the freedom to say what we want and how, but Christ grants us a different sort of freedom – the freedom to love and serve our neighbor. That freedom may well compel us to speak strongly to someone, to speak up for the disenfranchised, to speak truth and justice to power. I’m not saying not to do that; indeed, that is more important now than it was even a week ago. I’m also not saying that engaging according to the fruits of the Spirit is easy – especially when we are feeling enraged, sad, or scared, as many are right now. Yet still, the manner in which we speak that truth, or listen to another’s story, is what makes our response rooted in the Spirit, or in our fleshly indulgence. 

You were called for freedom: Love each other as Christ has loved you. Guided by the Spirit, find joy, peace, and love.

 Of all the truths you know, which would you stake your life on? 

Would you stake your life on the belief that someone who hurt you or someone else should be brought down and put in their place by words or actions? 

Would you stake your life on the belief that when someone you dislike or disapprove of falls upon bad fortune, they deserved what was coming to them? 

Would you stake your life on the need to tell some offender exactly what you think of them?

I admit those are all things I have felt viscerally in my bones at some point or another. But would I stake my life on them?

         Or would you stake your life on God’s promise that God is stronger than death, stronger than sin, stronger than captivity; that if God is for us, nothing can defeat us? 

Would you stake your life on the truth that because God has broken the bonds of death for us, that we can live lives of freedom – not the freedom to self-indulge and say and do whatever we want, as Paul writes, but the freedom to love one another, to live by the Spirit? 

Would you stake your life on the truth that because God loves us bunch of sinners, God is capable of loving any bunch of sinners, and that to live in God’s Spirit means that we, too, strive to love all the sinners of the world – even if they sin differently from you?

         Those are hard truths, very hard. They sometimes go very much against the grain of our human inclination, which says that people should get what they deserve. They are truths I sometimes find it difficult to apply to other people, even as I’m so grateful that they apply to me. But they are truths that I can, indeed that I must, stake my life on, because they are truths that bring us to life – life with God, and life with one another.

         Let us pray… You called us for freedom, to love each other as Christ has loved us. Guide us by your Spirit, to find joy, peace, and love. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Unchained from our pain (June 19, 2022)

Full service HERE.

 Pentecost 2C/Proper 7C
June 19, 2022
Luke 9:26-39

INTRODUCTION

Today, after a couple months straight of festival Sundays, we enter into what is called “ordinary time.” It’s marked by the use of green paraments, and during this time through the summer and fall, we work our way through the daily ministry of Jesus, hearing his teachings and stories of healings, stuff like that. 

Today is also Juneteenth, as you know, which is perfect because today’s texts are all about freedom! Well, Isaiah is more about the need for freedom, in particular freedom from sin. At this point in Isaiah, the Israelites have returned from exile, and divisions are emerging in the worshiping community, and in this text, one group is expressing their frustration toward the other group – a situation we know something about! 

But Galatians offers a response to this. Speaking to the divisions and disagreements inherent in the new Christian communities, and whether those differences are lawful or not, Paul offers this liberating exclamation: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ!” It remains a powerful message as we remember the freedom from slavery that we celebrate on Juneteenth, and as we manage and celebrate diversity in our 21st century world.

Finally, in the Gospel reading, we’ll hear of a man who is captive in numerous ways – he is captive to a Legion of demons, he is chained up outside of town, trapped in a graveyard. And Jesus comes and declares his freedom. The townspeople are not thrilled by Jesus’ declaration – as I’m sure slaveholders in the 19th century weren’t thrilled with the declaration of their slaves’ freedom! We have continued to long for freedom for all God’s people, even as we have, like those in this text, continued to feel uncertain and suspect of it as well. 

As you listen to these readings, I hope you will find yourself in them. Where and how do these stories help you to tell your own story? Where do your story and the text intersect? Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Katolophyromai, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>,
via Wikimedia Commons

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

Last week we had a new member class. Since these folks bring a fresh perspective to our congregation, I asked them what they’d like to see at St. Paul’s. One of those in attendance said she’d love to have a place where she can talk with others in the congregation about where they have seen God working in their lives, and how we could pray for each other. 

I would love that, too! That’s exactly what a faith community can offer that is different from what other organizations can offer. So where can this happen? Well, perhaps the best place is in the context of Bible study. We believe that scripture is the means by which we hear God’s voice and see and understand how God is working in our lives. So if we want to see and know God’s action in and among us, then spending time dwelling in this sacred telling of God’s story, the Bible, is the logical place to start!

Now, I know, “Bible study” can sound very boring to some. Or maybe, it is intimidating, because many of us have so little experience, we don’t even know where to start with the Bible, and we’re afraid we will feel dumb. It just isn’t relatable to me, we think. It’s so esoteric, with lots of people, places, and rituals that are so foreign to me. I get it – I felt that way most of my life before going to seminary, too, and I still do sometimes! But it doesn’t have to be boring, OR intimidating. When I say “Bible study,” what I mean is this: looking together at a story – not necessarily the particulars of it, but the arch of the story – and finding ways that this story can help us tell our own story. Because scripture tells stories about how God works in the world, right? So, if we can find how our own story overlaps with God’s story, then we have a better shot at seeing how God is working in our world, our story. Right?

But how do we do that, we ask, when the story we are given is just so… weird. Like today’s Gospel: it’s a cool story, one of the most graphic and bizarre in the Bible. Just picture it, and it is, truly, creepy. It’s in a graveyard, this guy is breaking his chains and clearly out of his mind. It’s a horror flick. So where are we supposed to find ourselves in this intense story of demon possession, and pigs flying off a cliff? I’m not saying demon possession isn’t real, I’m just saying it is likely not familiar to most of us. So how can it possibly relate to our 21st century lives?

But look beneath the surface, and there is a point of entry. We may not all know about demon possession, but we do all know something about how it feels to be metaphorically chained by or to something that works against who we want to be in the world. I’m thinking about… our past traumas, the emotional pain we carry, the defenses we have learned to put up in order to feel safe from whatever is our biggest fear – be it abandonment, or shame, or failure, or insignificance. Like the Gerasene demoniac, we may find ourselves chained by these things, such that they hold us back from living a life of wholeness – they keep us from being in trusting relationships, from deep connection, from contributing something meaningful to the world. No, we are not physically chained in a graveyard, but we do find ourselves no less trapped in a place that is more death than life. 

And then along comes Jesus, and with him the possibility of healing, of freedom, of breaking those chains that would hold us back and keep us from the life we crave. Jesus soon realizes how stubborn those demons are (and don’t we know about how stubborn our pain and trauma can be, often hiding deep inside where even we can’t see it, but emerging, often unexpectedly, and wreaking havoc in our lives and relationships). And what does Jesus do? He asks for its name. He asks for the demons, the pain, the trauma, to be named. What happens when we name what is troubling us? Once specifically named, that thing immediately begins to lose its power. It cannot hide any longer. Anyone who has spent any time in counseling knows this – once something has been identified, named, we can find a pathway forward, away from that pain and trauma. It’s not always an easy path, or one we want to take. But it promises far more life than staying put does. 

Sure enough, once Legion has been identified, Jesus knows how to get rid of them: he sends them into a herd of swine, who in turn race off a cliff and into the sea. I can’t help but notice the baptismal imagery here – the demons are literally drowned, the very same language we use when talking about baptism. Luther writes in his Small Catechism, that the significance of baptism is “that the old person in us, with all the sins and evil desires, is to be drowned and die.” In a moment, when Reeve, Alex, and Bobby affirm their baptism, they will say that they continue to renounce that “old person,” that Legion that would try to make their way into our lives. I love that image of renouncing, rejecting those evil desires and God-defying forces, and picturing them as a pig flying through the air and into the sea! 

So, once that renunciation is complete… what do we have left? Jesus has cast out the Legion, and what is left is a man, bloodied and bruised from the shackles, naked and completely vulnerable, without any of his former coping mechanisms. This can be the hardest part of emotional healing. When you have spent so much time letting yourself be defined by your pain, trauma, ailments, troubles – and you’ve built up defenses to keep that false identity safe – then who are you without it? Who is this man without his demons? Who is the alcoholic without her wine? Who am I without my anger? Who are you without your shame? Who are we without our fear and pain? I know people who have gone to therapy and, as they chip away at healing, they discover that they need to find something to fill the space that was left by whatever unhealthy behavior or pattern they dispelled. Otherwise, we are left with an identity crisis. Who am I, without that?

But Jesus does not let the man stay there long, hurting, naked, and completely vulnerable. By the time the townspeople arrive, the man is clothed again – much as we, in our baptism, are “clothed in Christ.” The Apostle Paul talks about how we “put on” Christ in baptism, and here that is what has happened. It’s why we wear baptismal gowns, and confirmation robes – we are “putting on Christ.” And so here, the man is clothed and sitting at Jesus’ feet. He has become a disciple. But that isn’t all – Jesus gives him a charge, a new purpose. “Return to your home,” he says, “and declare how much God has done for you.” This is remarkable! For years, this man has been defined by Legion. He was The Demoniac. And now, just like God does in our baptism, Christ has given him a new name and purpose: he is an apostle, one sent to tell how God has worked in his life, how his story and God’s story have intersected and overlapped. He is sent to tell the good news.

This, too, is our own story. In a moment, our confirmands will affirm the promises made at baptism, and with them, we will be reminded of our own baptism. Among those promises is this: “to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed.”  That sounds an awful lot like Jesus’ charge to the man in the story! I’m not saying you all should become preachers, or go door to door with pamphlets. I am saying that finding the words to tell our own stories of the ways Jesus has shown up on the shores of our lives, and helped us to name what keeps us bound, so that we could find a more fulfilling life, is a part of what living out our baptismal promises looks like. How has God worked through your story to bring you to fuller life? 

There are other parts to our baptismal covenant, too, of course: serving all people, engaging in the word and the sacraments, striving for justice and peace in all the earth. It is all good stuff to aim for. But what the study of scripture can do for us, even creepy and intense stories like this one, is to give us words by which to tell the story of how God has brought us to life.

I pray that our three confirmands will find ways to live into that. I pray that our graduates, as they head off to the next phase of their lives, will encounter God’s story playing out in their own story, in many and various ways. And I pray that all of us would become more intimately familiar with God’s story told through scripture, so that we might know how to make it our own.

Let us pray… Life-giving God, encourage us to dwell in your word, so that by your word we may find language to share the story of how you unbind your people, and bring them to life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Getting to hope (June 12, 2022)

Full service can be viewed HERE. Sermon is at 32:30.

Holy Trinity Sunday
June 12, 2022
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31
Romans 5:1-5
John 16:12-15

INTRODUCTION

Today, Holy Trinity Sunday, is a difficult one to preach or even talk about, because it is the only Sunday dedicated not to celebrating a particular event in Jesus’ life or the life of the church, but rather, a doctrine. And at that, it is a doctrine that is, by definition, impossible to describe, because as soon as you try to define God, you have limited God to something definable by a merely human mind. So, what our texts do today is present to us some of the ways God works. They each (except Proverbs) mention all three persons of the Trinity. And they paint a picture of some small part of who and how God is. As you listen, don’t try to figure out exactly how to explain God, how the Father relates to the Son, relates to the Holy Spirit. Instead, just let the images wash over you, and sit in them, and imagine how these images of a Triune God can feed you and give you life. Let’s listen.

[READ]

In the past week, some fairly ugly news concerning our denomination, the ELCA, has hit the mainstream media. The story is long and complicated, and I won’t get into all the details here. The short version, if there is one, is that the bishop of the Sierra Pacific Synod in California, Megan Rohrer, the first openly trans, Lutheran bishop, was asked by the presiding bishop to resign, over some racist conduct. The whole ordeal has been pretty poorly handled, and has left many deeply pained or traumatized. In the end, the bishop in California resigned without taking any responsibility for the pain caused by their actions, and people are still reeling and trying to heal from the mess that was left. (If you want to know more about this, I’m happy to talk with you, but it is too complicated to get into in a sermon!)

What is perhaps most painful for me, as a white woman and pastor who doesn’t have to deal with racism on a daily basis, is to see that even in the Church, this sort of conflict is possible. Turns out, the Church is full of broken people just like every other place on earth, and though we strive to follow Christ’s teachings regarding love of neighbor, we still too often fail miserably. We hurt each other, we judge each other, we make assumptions. We may not call ourselves racist, but we do benefit from a racist system. And because of all that, we all suffer.

“We boast in our sufferings,” writes Paul, “knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” I admit I find more consolation in these verses when I read them in hindsight, than I do in the moment of suffering. It’s hard to feel that “hope that does not disappoint us” in the midst of the pain – especially, in the case of Sierra Pacific Synod, when the pain is caused by the very Church that was supposed to proclaim hope! 

So how can we be better, Church? How can the teachings of scripture help us to manage better in conflict – whether at church, or work, or home, or wherever – so that we don’t let it tear us apart, but rather, do as Paul describes: letting it produce endurance, character, and finally hope?

            Our readings today can help us. First, let’s look to the Gospel. Once again, we have a piece of Jesus’ farewell discourse, the speech he gave to his disciples on the night before his death. Here he tells the disciples, “I still have many things to tell you, but you can’t bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth.” I find this both frustrating and encouraging. It’s frustrating because it first requires us to admit: we don’t know everything. We don’t know the whole story – certainly not God’s whole story, not someone else’s story, and sometimes not even our own! Jesus names that reality straight out, saying we simply can’t know everything at once. 

But as frustrating as that is, it can also be liberating. Because if we can let go of our need or desire to know everything, and to be right all the time, we can focus instead on the person’s feelings, their experience. Usually the most important arguments don’t have answers that are right and wrong; they are just different. I’m not talking about facts here, I’m talking about what is true for someone, what resonates with their heart. In that sense, one person’s truth might be different from another person’s truth, but that doesn’t mean one has to be right, and one wrong.

            And so, a much harder, but more faithful way to approach disagreements is to listen to Jesus’ words, and take to heart the reality that we don’t know everything, and we never will – we cannot know the mind and ways of God, and we cannot even fully know the experience and feelings of another person. What we can do is put aside our insistence that we are right… and simply listen to one another, with open hearts and minds, and try to hear and understand as much of the other person’s truth as possible. That’s when that second, more encouraging part of Jesus’ statement can enter in: “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth.” The Spirit will guide us into truth. But this can’t happen unless we first admit that we need guidance, and then let down our sword and shield and make room for the Spirit to do that important work. It requires humility, and self-awareness, and it may hurt a little, or even a lot, but as Jesus promises, this listening – to each other and to the Spirit – is what makes truth be known, and from there, healing and growth can follow.

The next place to turn for guidance in this difficult work is our reading from Proverbs. Isn’t this text lovely? Part of the reason I love it is that it describes the Holy Spirit’s role in creation, as God’s co-creator – but here the Holy Spirit does not possess the masculine identity we’re used to. No, here the Spirit is described as “Lady Wisdom.” This is actually a fairly common way to describe the Spirit, as Wisdom, which is, in Hebrew, a feminine image. “Sophia,” she’s called. So here we see God as both male and female, creating both male and female, creating a world that has differences, and different ways of understanding, and that very difference is what brings about life. We also see a God who, even in the very act of creating, works together in community. Bringing life is not an act that can be accomplished by one alone; it is a task to be done as a community, working together, delighting and rejoicing in one another’s work. When we are able to work together, we can be one, even in our differences, just as God the Creator is one with Christ and with the Holy Spirit. Genuine community is challenging, but it is also creative, enriching, and productive.

            Finally, we turn to this text from Romans, because while all of this other stuff is good to work toward, none of it is possible without what Paul expresses here in Romans. Paul begins this chapter saying, “Since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand.” That’s a lot of dense, churchy words, so let’s break it down: the reason we are able to do all this hard work that is required in a fruitful, productive, loving community, is that we already have the gift and promise of God’s peace. It’s not a gift we have to earn. We have that peace already, not because of who we are and what we do, but because God is who God is, and does what God does. God loves us and accepts us despite our various shortcomings (and let’s admit it, there are plenty of those – if there is one thing we all have in common, besides God’s love for us, it is that we all make mistakes, and we are all sinners in need of grace!).

But here’s the really stunning news: because of who God is – one who justifies and loves and embraces even the ungodly, even those who make mistakes – because of who God is, we come to truly know the peace of God, and are empowered and encouraged to turn in love to extend the same grace, mercy, acceptance, and forgiveness to those around us, those with whom we are in community, those with whom we need to work and live each day.

Accepting God’s unconditional love for us can be difficult; extending that love, mercy and forgiveness to others can be even more difficult. But as Paul also tells us, we don’t need to know how just yet – the Spirit, Lady Wisdom, will show us how if we listen to her and leave space in our hearts and between our words and before our reactions for that same Spirit to move and breathe and do her thing to guide us toward the truth. With the help of the holy communion, the Holy Trinity, we, too, can grow in love for one another, becoming a holy community who loves, cares for, listens to, accepts, and embraces one another, even as we continually hold each other accountable to this holy call. May it be so.

Let us pray… Holy Three-in-One, in our passion for justice, we don’t always remember to listen to the pains and experiences of others. By your Holy Spirit, assure us of your peace, and empower us to hear what is true for our brothers and sisters with whom we may disagree. Draw us ever into closer community with each other and with you. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Diversity and God's vastness (Pentecost, June 5, 2022)

Full service can be viewed HERE. Sermon begins at 44:45.

Day of Pentecost
June 5, 2022
Acts 2:1-21
Genesis 11:1-9

INTRODUCTION

Happy birthday, Church! That’s what Christians sometimes call this day of Pentecost, because it is the day that we remember how the Spirit wooshed into those gathered, igniting and empowering them, and from there the people were sent out to proclaim the good news. On that day, 3000 people were baptized, and the Church only grew from there! 

This was not, however the beginning of the Spirit. We have been hearing about the Spirit from day 1, how it moved over the waters at creation. The Spirit shows up in the Psalms many times. The Spirit moves throughout the prophets, causes Mary to conceive, and rests on Jesus at his baptism. And, Jesus told his disciples shortly before his crucifixion, “[The Father] will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth.” Ta-da! Today’s the big day!

Throughout scripture the Spirit has many jobs – advocate, comforter, inspiration, teacher, bringer of peace. Today in Acts we even see the Spirit as something of an agitator, stirring up a ruckus! But we also see the Spirit as the enabler of community. In our first reading, we’ll hear the story of the Tower of Babel, which ends with people’s languages getting all mixed up. Yet in Acts, with the Spirit’s help, the diverse people find they can understand one another once again. In our divided world, this is good news! As you listen, discover the ways the Spirit is bringing us into community with one another. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

Debie Thomas immigrated from India to America as an infant, but her parents insisted they speak their native tongue, Malayalam (ma-LAY-uh-lum), at home. She grew up bi-lingual. Still, there was an understanding that while “we” (brown Indian people) might cross into “their” (white Americans) language and culture, “the linguistic traffic would never flow in the opposite direction.” In fact, most Americans had never even heard of Malayalam. 

But when Debie was about 10 years old, her aunt and uncle brought over a young woman named Sarah – blond haired, blue eyed, mid-30s. Her uncle explained that Sarah had spent her childhood years in India, and had often visited the South Indian state where Debie’s family had lived. The family was shocked when Sarah then opened her mouth and began speaking to them in their native tongue! Debie writes, “Sarah told us her story in careful but convincing Malayalam… [She] moved to South India after college, and immersed herself in the language and culture. ‘It was very hard,’ she admitted. ‘Learning the script, forming such new sounds – annoying people with my mistakes. But I’m so glad I did.’ Over dinner, she went on to explain how much her … immersion had changed her. ‘I didn’t realize before how limited my own perceptions were. My ideas about humor, about art, about God. I didn’t know how many things were unsayable in a single language.’” ["Words on Fire" from Journey With Jesus blog, https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/959-words-on-fire, accessed June 2, 2022] 

Language is a fascinating thing, isn’t it? Even within a single language, there is so much nuance and potential lack of clarity. After my friend Victoria left last weekend, Michael and I were marveling at what an intentional and extraordinary communicator she is, seeking just the right words to express herself, and taking time to ask questions before jumping to assumptions in dense conversations. In one conversation Victoria and I had, we were talking about our deepest held values, and the first value she mentioned for herself was, “communication.” It shows! I strive to be like that, and yet how many arguments do I find myself in where, partway through, I realize that our disagreement is centered around a word for which we don’t share a common understanding! And so we’re just talking right past each other. Especially words that get thrown around in vitriolic, politically-fueled conversations – words like “liberal” and “conservative,” “woke,” “cancel culture” and “racism,” “pro-life” and “pro-choice,” “gun-safety” – even for the word so foundational as “freedom,” we don’t seem to share a common understanding! We assume we share an understanding of these hot-button words, and condemn the other based on that assumption. No wonder we can’t see eye-to-eye on the most pressing issues of our day!

Our story today from Genesis can offer a framework for this. The story of the Tower of Babel is from what we call the Bible’s Primeval History: the first 11 chapters of Genesis. It’s a series of origin stories. Babel, of course, is a story about the origin of different language and cultural diversity. On first read, it can sound very much like God’s decision to confuse the languages and scatter the people abroad was a punishment for the people’s pride. Like, “They’re getting too big for their britches, so I will thwart their efforts by making it impossible to communicate effectively!” But I dunno, that doesn’t sound much like a God of love, nor a God who later prays for his disciples, on the eve of his crucifixion, “I pray that they would be one.” 

I think the real issue God is dealing with in this story is that the people wanted uniformity, and God instead pushes them toward diversity. Uniformity gets us nowhere; diversity is what causes us to grow, and what brings richness to our lives! And look around – our God is a God who values and celebrates diversity! Just look at the variety of butterflies, ice cream flavors, and smells in the world. Look at the creative minds that have given us everything from indoor plumbing to the Sistine Chapel, from Pride and Prejudice to space travel. The diversity attributed to Babel is not a penalty – it is what allows people to see that God is much vaster than a single mind, language, or culture can grasp. And this is a very good thing! It keeps our humility in check, and reminds us just how mysterious our God is. God cannot be contained by a human mind. You see diversity of language and culture is not a problem to be solved. Diversity is not a penalty; it is a value.

Unless… unless we allow it to divide our communities. We’re all too familiar with this! Just like those who were building the Silo of Babel, a place where they could relish in their sameness, we still find ourselves drawn toward expecting others to be, think and act like us, at least in the ways we deem most important. Even churches and other communities that fancy themselves to be “accepting and welcoming of all!” too often mean, “We accept and welcome everyone… except those who aren’t as open-minded as we are!” I have a friend who says of himself, “I’m not a bigot, except about people who are bigoted!” I admire his self-awareness! 

Enter the Holy Spirit on that Day of Pentecost. We sometimes talk about Pentecost as a reversal of Babel. “God scrambled the languages at Babel,” we say, “and at Pentecost, everyone could once again understand each other.” But that’s not quite right. Pentecost does not reverse or undo the diversity of those gathered. The text doesn’t say, “The crowd was bewildered because each was speaking the same language.” It says they were bewildered “because each one heard them speaking in the native tongue of each.” They were not amazed by sameness. They were amazed that, even in their diversity, they could communicate and understand one another, as the Spirit gave them ability.

You see, diversity is not a barrier for the Spirit. And so, in a Spirit-filled gathering, diversity is also not a barrier to community. As people of the Spirit, we are not only equipped for community, but also sent to create it, through the proclamation of the good news of Jesus Christ. Peter hops right up and starts preaching, and people are baptized. The rest of the book of Acts recounts the ways Jesus’ followers listened to the urgings of the Spirit, proclaiming a message of life and salvation. By that same Spirit, churches are planted and begin to grow around the region and then to the ends of the world. Along the way, these proclaimers of Christ are met with all manner of diversity – people of different languages and cultures, an Ethiopian eunuch, uncircumcised Gentiles like Cornelius, women like Lydia and Dorcas, murderous Pharisees like Saul. And while these disparate peoples all came to find unity around the cross of Christ, they did not give up the beautiful diversity that God had made possible. 

The Early Church was richer for it, and so are we today. Within our congregation, we have a lot of homogeneity. But we also have a beautiful diversity – age, background, political beliefs, hopes and dreams, hobbies, sexual or gender identity, education, skills. I count this as a great gift. Even though it can also be a real pain, our differences give us a greater sense of the vastness of God. I pray that we will find ever more ways to embrace diversity here, to hear other voices, to understand other cultures and life experiences, trusting all along that the Spirit gives us ability to gather as one body of Christ, washed and welcomed, fed and forgiven, and absolutely beloved by our mysterious God. 

Let us pray… God of variety and diversity and mystery, you have marvelously made us, each unique. Help us to see the diversity around us as an opportunity to see and to celebrate your vastness. And into our difference, send your Spirit of truth, that we might seek always to understand one another. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: When the slave girl preaches (May 29, 2022) - featuring the Rev. Victoria Larson

This sermon is much better watched than read, as it was a performance. View it HERE, beginning at 36:30. It was preached by myself (preacher) and the Rev. Victoria Larson ("slave girl").

Easter 7C
May 29, 2022
Acts 16:16-34

INTRODUCTION:

We’ve made it to the end of the Easter season - though of course we will continue to celebrate the resurrection every day until Jesus comes again - a day in fact referred to at the stunning conclusion of the Bible that we will hear today from Revelation. “Amen! Come Lord Jesus!” It’s the same plea we make at the communion table, as we look toward the glorious day of Christ’s return. 

Also on this 7th and last Sunday of Easter, we will find ourselves back in the upper room with Jesus and his disciples on the night of Jesus’ betrayal. Remarkably, we will have a chance to eavesdrop as Jesus prays for his disciples - and also for us (aka “those who will believe in [Jesus] because of [the disciples’] word”). Can you believe that we would be a topic of conversation among the Trinity?! So cool! So, settle into that, and hear Jesus’ prayer for you.

But first, we will hear from the Acts of the Apostles. Where we left off last week, Paul and Silas had just been led, to their surprise, to Philippi, to plant a church there. Things have been going well so far… but today, they will run into some trouble. So, let’s listen to see what happens next!

[READ]

Howson, J. S. (John Saul), 1816-1885,
No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons

PREACHER: Things are going well for Paul and Silas. They have begun the establishment of a church in Philippi, with the help of Lydia. Paul was already growing a deep affection for this church, and his heart was filled with gratitude for them, and for the work the Spirit was already doing through them. To offer praise to God, they head to a place of prayer, when they are joined by a girl who, it so happens, has a spirit of divination.

SLAVE-GIRL: [overlapping] I had a spirit of divination.
This is not as cool as it sounds.
I know it sounds like it should be amazing–
everyone wants to know what the future holds.
That’s what made my owners rich.

“Prophesy,” they’d say to me,
after the coins clinked from one hand to another,
and without my willing it,
without my wanting it,
the spirit would stir into sibilance.
It felt like a snake wrapped around my middle,
stealing my breath,
squeezing out words that weren’t mine.
It would leave me gasping,
frightened, exhausted,
staring after
another satisfied customer.

And then one day,
I was in the marketplace,
waiting for my owners to finish haggling
with a new customer,
when they walked by.
The balding man and the quiet guy.
The spirit saw them first.
I felt its familiar shudder.
But this time, it felt different.
This time, it felt afraid.
This time, the words weren’t forced out of my mouth.
This time, it was like the words were forced out of the spirit,
and arrived silently in my head.
Those men are slaves of the Most High God,
and they proclaim a way of salvation.

I looked at my owners,
reaching their deal,
brokering my body,
placing a price tag on my possession
just like they had
every day
since I was a little girl.
And I thought,
You want a prophet?
Fine.
That’s what you’ll get.

I stood up.
I pointed.
I shouted:

"These men are slaves of the Most High God,
who proclaim to you a way of salvation."

PREACHER: “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation!” This is what she kept hollering after them. And she kept at it for several days, and well, we may call him “Saint” Paul, but everyone has their limits. Luke tells us Paul grew to be “very much annoyed” by her persistence. Annoyed by what, I wonder? That she was blowing their cover? That she was stealing their thunder? That her incessant shouting made it difficult for them to get their own message out? Or maybe it was the annoyance any parent of a 4-year-old knows, in which one simply can’t stand another moment of pestering. Paul tried to be patient, but he was. About. To. Lose. It. 

SLAVE-GIRL: I could see their frustration building.
Their shoulders rose a little higher
every time I shouted the truth
about who and whose they were.
Until finally,
the balding one whirled around
and looked me right in the eye.
And for a moment,
I felt hope.
But then the hope turned cold,
because I recognized what he was seeing.
Same as everyone else:
he might have been looking at me,
but he was seeing… it.

PREACHER: “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her!” And the demon left her. It sounds like good news, right? But I have to wonder… How pure were his motives? Was he trying to save the girl, or was he trying to save himself from her relentless shouting? I suspect it was more about the latter. I suspect Paul cared little for this girl who “annoyed” him, and was more interested in the easy way out. We know that feeling! Just get rid of the annoying thing, the thing that troubles or inconveniences us, and move on. Paul took the route of a quick fix, rather than taking the time to actually see the girl, to hear her story, to understand the problem, and truly to liberate her not only from the demon, but from the system that held her captive as someone only valued for her brokenness, for her demon. If he’d stayed and listened and seen her, I wonder how it all might have gone differently.

SLAVE-GIRL:
It all might have gone differently.
The two men were still looking at me.
The spirit was gone.
Gone.
And I thought,
If they can do that,
What else might they do?
Could they free me?
Could I go with them?
I opened my mouth to speak–
and felt a hand clap onto my shoulder.
It was one of my owners.
She was staring at the bald one.
“What did you do?”
The other grabbed my arm
and made me look at him.
“Prophesy!” he told me.
But I didn’t say anything.
He shoved.
I fell to the ground
and stayed there
as he turned back to the two men
to shout some more.

I was free from the spirit.
But I was still a slave.
The only thing that had changed
was my worth.
I was worth less now.
I was worth less
because I had been healed.
How messed up is that?

My owners hauled the two men
up before the authorities.
And they were beaten–
a shock, since the men were Roman citizens.
And they were imprisoned.

My owners disappeared.
They’d gone home, I guess.
I told myself I should do the same.

But I didn’t follow.
I lingered outside the prison
where the two men were kept
feeling like I was inside with them.

Who was I,
if I wasn’t “the slave girl who had a spirit of divination”?
Just another slave girl.
Just another no one,
trapped.

PREACHER: Trapped. Paul and Silas were trapped. Imprisoned. Even if you haven’t been in prison yourself, or even been in a prison to know what one looks like, we all know about being imprisoned because that’s what original sin does to us: we are imprisoned by our sin, our fear, our shame. We are imprisoned by addictions, by illnesses both mental and physical. We are imprisoned by grief. And it can feel very much like being ushered into the innermost cell of a jail, and shackled there, because that is how difficult it is to break free from those myriad things that imprison us. What are we to do, when we feel so helpless, so trapped?

SLAVE-GIRL: That’s when I heard them singing. 

PREACHER:  Now, I love to sing, but when I am imprisoned in these ways, I don’t feel much like singing. I feel helpless, breathless, trapped in a reality, a cycle I dearly want to break, yet do not know how. 

And yet singing is just what Paul and Silas do. In the darkness of that innermost cell, with fellow prisoners gathered round, with little concrete hope for their future… Paul and Silas sang. Maybe they sang today’s Psalm, a text that, as good Jews, they likely would have known by heart - a Psalm about how fire goes before the Lord, burning up enemies, how lightning lights up the world and the earth sees and trembles. It trembles! 

[sing] “The heavens declare your righteousness, O Lord;
and all the peoples see your glory!” 

SLAVE-GIRL: 

Just as their voices reached the crescendo,
the whole earth joined in,
and the vibration of its voice
shook the ground beneath our feet.
In the darkness,
the world fell apart.
And the walls of the jail came down.

PREACHER:  What a glorious example of God’s power! Just in their greatest hour of need, when there was no hope, when they were trapped, God came through with a saving earthquake. Earthquakes, these life-changing events that shake our very foundations, certainly have the power to free us if we let them. They can change the course of our lives! If God could free Paul, Silas, all the others - and even the jailor! - and bring them freedom from that which imprisoned them, then just think what God can do for us, and for our own imprisonments! And so we can trust that God will come also to us, and free us, in our time of need. 

SLAVE-GIRL: “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of God’s throne!” [continues to sing this verse as Preacher tries to preach over her]

PREACHER: Would you stop it?!

SLAVE-GIRL:  “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of God’s throne!”

PREACHER: Excuse me, you are being sort of annoying right now. I’m trying to wrap this up with a hopeful message for everyone. 

SLAVE-GIRL: That’s not the end of the story.

PREACHER: Well, yeah, I know, but we’ve got to move on with the service, so can’t this just wait for later?

SLAVE-GIRL: I’ve been waiting long enough.
You have too.
“Righteousness and justice are the foundation of God’s throne.”
I’ve seen the power of this Most High God.
But I’m still waiting to see it everywhere.
I’m still waiting to see righteousness fill the earth.
I’m still waiting for justice to shape this world.
And I’m so tired of waiting.
Aren’t you?
You read my story again and again
in your sacred places.
I know how tempting it is to end it
right here
with those men
and their newfound freedom.
But I’m still here.
And I’m still enslaved.

PREACHER: Well yes, I know, but… the world is so full of brokenness. It is frankly exhausting. Sometimes I just can’t take any more pain, and so I’d rather focus on the good news, the part of the story we see with the jailor, and Paul and Silas. They are liberated, and so are we. That’s good news!

SLAVE-GIRL: It’s only good news for me,
and for everyone like me,
if you treat that good news
like a good beginning,
not a happy ending.

Those two men in the marketplace–
the ones who spent their night in jail singing hymns–
They knew that.
That’s what got them through the flogging and the earthquake.
That’s what let them sit in the ruins of everything
and have hope.
Because they didn’t believe that was the end.
They didn’t believe sin and death got the last word.
And they let that good news
be the place where they started from,
not the place where they stopped.
That good news drove them into action.

PREACHER: I agree with you… but how? I know there are people still wailing in grief, still crying for justice. I know how far we are from God’s hope and vision for this world and for God’s people. I know that. But it is hard. And uncomfortable. And, if I'm honest, inconvenient. And I want to give people a break from the pain of the world. It’s nice just to hear a joyful, life-giving message sometimes, you know?

SLAVE-GIRL: (mulish) It’s not just nice.
That message is necessary.
It’s not possible to
to believe this world is capable of change
without believing that sin’s chains are broken
and hell’s gates are crushed
and death died.

But if that’s where you stop telling the story,
then you miss the rest.
You miss the part where those men
get up the next day
and go back to the authorities
and tell them that they were wrong,
wrong to beat them,
because under their own law,
Roman citizens are not punished without a trial.
You miss the part
where the powers and principalities
apologize.
You miss the part
where the world
changes
just
a little
bit.

PREACHER: Yes, you are right. They don’t leave it there. They demand justice.

SLAVE-GIRL: Yes. They do.

PREACHER: Well, what do we do now then?

SLAVE-GIRL: …Take a page out of that bald man’s book.
Believe in the good news,
and don’t be afraid to begin. 

PREACHER: Maybe we begin by singing together. Will you sing with us?

SLAVE-GIRL: (slowly, The Church's One Foundation)

 …Yet saints their watch are keeping;
their cry goes up, "How long?"

PREACHER: and soon the night of weeping

BOTH: shall be the morn of song.

Let us pray… Liberating God, do not let us shy away from the voices of the weeping and the oppressed. Do not let us turn our backs on injustice. Empower us to raise our prayerful song, and to see our own liberation not as a happy ending, but as a good beginning toward seeking the same freedom for your whole creation. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Finding peace in anxious times (May 22, 2022)

Sermon can be viewed HERE, beginning at 11 min (Gospel) or 12 min (sermon).

Easter 6C
May 22, 2022
John 14:23-29

INTRODUCTION

Today’s readings are full of visions. In Acts, Paul is going about his ministry the way he thinks it ought to be done, but doors keep closing. So at this point, they are just kind of hanging out, trying to figure out what’s next, when Paul has a vision to go somewhere unexpected: into what is now Europe. The result is the further expansion of the Church into new territory, with the help of another strong woman of faith, Lydia. 

In Revelation, John has a beautiful vision for what will be – an urban garden in which there are no divisions, and the gates are never shut. We will hear the last words of Jesus, the Lamb, and they are: “Come!” Try to imagine this vision as he describes it – a tree of life that somehow spans both sides of a river, growing leaves that heal the nations; gates open and ready to receive all who come to them; and abundant light provided by the Lamb himself. Our choir anthem today is a setting of a beloved hymn that draws upon the glorious imagery in this text. 

In the Gospel, Jesus also describes a vision, one of abiding peace. He offers it to the disciples on his last night with them, as he prepares to go to the cross. It is an anxious time for the disciples, in which they are likely already tasting a sort of grief. And it is a powerful and needed message for us, too, in a time of high anxiety and deep sadness and brokenness. As you listen today, I pray that these visions of peace, reconciliation, and divine presence find a way into your own heart. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Grace to you and peace from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. 

Like I’m sure many of you, I’m feeling pretty wearied lately by the news. So much grief, and lament, and anger, and most of all, a longing for things to be different than they are. Every day, I find myself sighing and shaking my head in discouragement and fear. 

And so when I hear today’s Gospel reading, and Jesus’ promise of peace, I feel partly an eager, “Yes, please!” and partly a resigned, “Yeah, right.” Much as I’d like it to be true, it feels impossible to believe, doesn’t it, that Jesus’ peace might be a reality for us any time soon. How can we say Jesus’ peace is here when people of color are being shot while they buy food for their families, or while they are at church? How can we say we have Christ’s peace while war is raging in Ukraine? Where is peace while people are fearful that their voice and autonomy will be stripped away, or while they worry how they will put food on the table, or while their marriage is in shambles, or while their mental health is struggling? 

But that’s just it – when Jesus made this promise, it was just as anxious a time, albeit for some different reasons. Remember, this conversation is happening just hours before Jesus is betrayed and handed over to death. There is definitely fear and anxiety in the room, and they are already feeling a sort of grief. And of course they were living in an oppressive Roman empire. And yet he still says, “My peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” So, there must be some way toward finding peace, not apart from our fears and anxieties, but even in the midst of them.

A key for understanding this lies in that line, “I do not give as the world gives.” Here Jesus sets up his peace as something different from the peace we might seek from the world – and that is a difference worth articulating! Here’s how I might describe the difference: the peace that the world gives, is dependent upon our circumstances. Things have to be a certain way before we can find peace. Then that peace falsely promises that everything will be smooth sailing, and without conflict. We find this “peace” from worldly sources: we think we will find it from a clean house, or a completed to-do list. We think it will come from cutting someone toxic out of our lives, without doing the work of healing. Or from just ignoring the problems around us, or numbing them with another glass of wine. And yes, these tactics will bring peace… for a while. But then the kids come home and the house gets messy again. More things get added to the list. A new difficult person comes along. The effects of the wine wear off… The peace that the world gives is fleeting, you see. It does not last.

But Jesus does not give as the world gives. His peace is not dependent upon external circumstances. The word he uses here implies, as commentator Elizabeth Johnson says, “a profound and holistic sense of well-being.” It is peace that can fill our hearts even in the midst of conflict and injustice, anxiety and uncertainty. It is, as Paul will call it later, “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding” – and is something decidedly different from what the world gives! 

How do we live in this peace? What does it look and feel like? First, let’s look at its opposite. If it can exist even in the midst of conflict, then conflict is not its opposite. Rather, I will suggest that the opposite of God’s peace is restlessness. I think of a restless sea, and a tumultuous heart, which cannot find a rock to cling to, as our sending hymn today will allude to. We grasp and seek and cannot find the stillness, the rest, of peace. St. Augustine described this well in his Confessions. He writes, “My heart is restless, O God, until it finds its rest in thee.” And that is indeed the antidote to our restlessness, and how we are able to find the peace that Jesus gives to his disciples. We find our rest, our peace, in God. So the question becomes: how do we do that?

Two words come to mind: acceptance, and trust. First, acceptance. Life is scary, right? So much can go wrong, and we are, in the end, so vulnerable. We can’t change that, no matter what real or emotional walls we erect. Life is also difficult – we can’t change that either! And although God presumably can, God doesn’t promise that He will. As long as we fight against that reality, we will find ourselves restless, not at peace. Once we can accept it, acknowledge where we find ourselves, we can, with God’s help, find our bearings and figure out where to go from there. To be clear: accepting something does not mean liking or condoning it. I’m sure we all have had to accept lots of things we didn’t like one bit – a chronic illness, the end of a relationship, a job loss. Acceptance is just saying, “Yes, this is the hand I was dealt.” Acceptance is also not resignation – you aren’t saying it is okay for things to continue this way. You can accept that you have cancer, and then do all you can to treat the cancer. You can accept the end of a relationship, without giving up hope on finding love. Again, acceptance is simply acknowledging, “This is what my reality is.”

Then comes the next word: trust. Without trust – and in this case, I mean, trust in God – acceptance is a rope tied to nothing. But with trust, we are able to say, “I know that God is good, and that God is working all things for good for those who love him. And even though things are bad right now [and they might be really, really bad] I trust that God is with me, holding what I can’t shoulder. And when I can let go of my own need for control, I know that God will lead me in the right direction.” In short, accept our reality for what it is, and trust that God will not let us perish there. The outcome may not be what we would have preferred, but we can be sure God is with us all the while. 

How can we be so sure? Because of what Jesus has said just before this: that the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, sent by the Father, will teach us everything and remind us of Jesus’ promises. The word translated here as “advocate” is “paraclete” – literally, one who comes alongside. What a beautiful image of presence for God. One who comes alongside us – in our darkest hour, in our frustration and discouragement, in our anxiety and fear. One who comes alongside us when we sure don’t want to accept what is happening, to assure us that God is trustworthy. One who comes alongside us to say, “I know you are restless, and uncertain, and you wish things were different. But I will bring you peace. I will bring you life. I will not leave you alone. Let not your heart be troubled, and do not let it be afraid.”

Let us pray…

You who know our fears and sadness,
grace us with your peace and gladness,
Spirit of all comfort: fill our hearts.
Healer of our ev’ry ill, light of each tomorrow,
give us peace beyond our fear,
and hope beyond our sorrow.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Loving the unlovable, just like Jesus (May 15, 2022)

 Full service HERE.

Easter 5C
May 15, 2022
John 13:31-35

INTRODUCTION

Here is something quirky about the lectionary, the predetermined readings for any given Sunday: today’s Gospel, in the middle of the Easter season, takes us back to Maundy Thursday. The exchange we hear today is at the beginning of Jesus’ Farewell Discourse, and happens right after Jesus washes the disciples’ feet, and before they all head out to garden, where Judas will lead a group of soldiers to arrest Jesus. So, some chronological whiplash going on! We won’t hear about the foot-washing today, but we will hear the “new commandment, to love one another as [Jesus] has loved you.” How does that land differently during Holy Week than it does now, as we still celebrate the resurrection?

This somewhat strange story from Acts dovetails nicely with that commandment. To this point in Acts, Peter’s ministry has been to Jewish communities who have become followers of Christ, rather than to Gentiles. Remember, Jews had a stringent set of dietary and other laws (circumcision, for example) that they followed in order to set them apart as God’s chosen people. Gentiles did not follow those rules, and so until now, they had not been a part of the Christian community. But this vision Peter will describe, which he says happens three times, blows apart the idea that Gentiles are not included in God’s chosen people. Just as no food is excluded, so also are no people excluded from God’s love.

In truth, these are a couple of radical texts for today! Add to that John of Patmos’s revelation in our second reading of a new heaven and a new earth in which “death with be no more, mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away,” and wow! There is lots of hope to be had this day! I’m grateful you are here for it. As you listen, hear that hope offered also for you: hope of acceptance, and love, and restoration, no matter what you are facing. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Grace to you and peace from our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. 

In the exchange we overhear from John’s Gospel today, we get a chance to hear in essence Jesus’ deathbed request of his disciples. And Jesus’ command for them is not, “Pray daily,” or “read your Bible,” or, “maintain doctrinal purity” or, “worship the right way.” No, his last command to his disciples, the most important thing, is, “love one another as I have loved you.”  

Love one another as I have loved you. Seems pretty straightforward, right? Pretty foundational. I think we can all agree that this is a pretty central tenet of our faith, right? And yet somehow… it isn’t. Not that we don’t mean for it to be, but rather, because sometimes loving each other – especially loving each other in the same radical and self-giving way that Jesus has loved us – is really, really hard. As New Testament scholar D.A. Carson says, “This new command is simple enough for a toddler to memorize and appreciate, and yet it is profound enough that the mature believers are repeatedly embarrassed at how poorly they comprehend it and put it into practice.”

What is so hard about it? I can think of a few things. Like, love takes a lot of work and physical and emotional energy. It’s way easier just to be apathetic, or to not take the time or effort to really hear someone’s pain, or to bite back when someone says or does something hurtful. Another reason that loving someone is difficult is that it is very vulnerable – love opens our hearts to being wounded by loss, or being hurt, or betrayed. If we avoid loving people too much or too deeply, we can save ourselves a lot of heartache. If we keep our circle very small, we can avoid a lot of pain. Yet another reason: some people are just mean, or evil. They manipulate us, harm us, or they walk into a Tops and start shooting black people. It is especially hard to love someone like that!

And yet, Jesus’ commandment is not, “Love a select few,” or, “Love when it isn’t too much trouble.” The commandment, Jesus’ dying request, is, “Love one another as I have loved you” – that is, genuinely, deeply, and self-sacrificially. So I think we ought to take it seriously, right? We ought to take it so seriously that it guides not only what we do at church, but also what we do the rest of the week: in our relationships with family, friends and co-workers, in the ways we choose to spend our money, in the ways we decide to vote, and how we form opinions about the biggest ethical issues of our day. Because if our faith provides our foundation for how we live, and this commandment is a foundational aspect of that faith, it should be the lens through which we view everything we do, right?

So let’s bring this commandment into a more concrete context. We all have people in our lives whom we find it especially difficult to love, right? It might be someone very close to you – a family member, perhaps, or someone you have to see every day at work. Or maybe, the place you find it most difficult to love one another is when you consume the news, and you find your heart filled not with love but with anger and disdain for a politician or group. I know how easy it is just to give in to those feelings of what we feel is justified anger and disdain. After all - those people are terrible. And yet, does Jesus love them? Did Jesus die also for them? Yup. And so how can we live into Jesus’ commandment, and love them, too?

First off, I want to clarify that loving someone is not the same as liking them, agreeing with them, or condoning their actions. Not at all. There is plenty going on in the world that must not be condoned. Loving one another sometimes looks like holding to account, and fighting for more loving action toward the vulnerable. Love isn’t always sweetness and roses and kind words. Sometimes love is speaking the truth, even the painful truth, but doing it in love. But love should never look like hatred of another person. It may be hatred of their words or actions, but not of the person themselves – for they, like you, are a person created in the image of God, a person worthy of love, a person just as dearly in need of God’s grace and forgiveness as all of us. 

So with that in mind, how can we go about loving someone who is difficult to love? One faithful way to do this is simply to pray for them. And I don’t mean, pray that they would go away and not come back. I mean, pray for their well-being, that they would be open to God’s will, that they would shine God’s light in this broken world. Pray that they would know God’s love, and be transformed by it, just as we all long to be transformed by that love. 

Sometimes, I know, even this prayer is too difficult, especially when it is for someone who has hurt us. In this case, when I don’t have the words, I have sometimes let my prayer be simply to visualize the person, and in my imagination to surround them with light. To imagine them surrounded in the light of Christ. This image and practice regularly softens my heart, and eventually, words may be able to accompany the image. 

Another way to love someone difficult to love is to see them not for the ways they have hurt or offended us, but for the ways that they, too, struggle. As we teach our children, hurt people hurt people – that is, people who harm others are acting out of their own pain. So strive to see them as people who are as broken and searching and longing as we all are. Find compassion for that pain (not the resulting action, just the pain!). Pray for relief from that pain. Love will follow.

It’s all so much easier said than done, I know. And please know that I am preaching to myself as well today! But it is so important. Because as hard as it is, I believe that this seemingly simple command, to love one another, is what might start to bring about that new heaven and new earth that John talks about in our reading from Revelation. In this vision we hear about at the end of the book, John describes a new heaven and earth in which there will be no more crying or pain, death or mourning. It is a vision of pure hope. It is the reality that we long for, the reality we cling to in this faith. It is a vision of peace and harmony and – dare I say – love. Is it possible that we could catch a glimpse of this new reality, even today?

You don’t have to agree with someone to love them. You don’t even really have to like someone to love them with Christian love. Remember that Jesus offers this new commandment on the night he was betrayed, denied, and deserted by his best friends – I’m betting he wasn’t too pleased with them that night, and yet he never ceases to love them, and indeed expresses in word and deed the most humbly radical sort of love. So it seems, loving someone as Jesus loves us doesn’t mean liking or approving of their actions. But it does mean seeing them as children of God who are worthy of God’s love, children of God for whom Jesus died and rose again, for whom God through Christ conquered death so that we all could live with God in eternal life. To love one another with this love is more powerful than disagreement, more powerful than disappointment, more powerful than the difficulty of forgiveness. Indeed to love someone with God’s love is more powerful than anything else on this earth. 

Let us pray… Loving God, you bid us to love one another as you love us, but in our human brokenness, we often find this difficult. Give us courage to love those we find unlovable, to see each person as a child of God who is worthy of love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen