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.

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

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

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

INTRODUCTION

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

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

[READ] 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

         On the other hand…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What, then, is the spirit of this law? 

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

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

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

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

INTRODUCTION

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

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

As you listen to these difficult texts today, notice what they stir up in you. Notice how and why they feel uncomfortable to you. And we’ll see what I can do in the sermon about finding some good news to bring to that discomfort. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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