Sent

A sermon for the sixth Sunday after Pentecost based on Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

In the name of Jesus; Amen.

In college the chaplain often let those of us on the seminary tract preach in chapel on Sunday mornings. It was great experience and gave those of us who took the opportunity to have a head start for later on.

The first Sunday that I was to preach I was very nervous and so I called my mom and asked her if she would drive the 1 ½ hours up to Muhlenberg to see me. She told me that I shouldn’t get my hopes up but that she would try. Which meant I shouldn’t expect her.

That year I lived in a house on campus right on the border of the neighborhood and the campus. Except for the red call box at the door it looked like every other house on the block. The morning I was supposed to preach I woke up and was on my way to get into the shower when the doorbell of the house rang.

I was very excited because I thought, “My mom did come.” So I rushed to the door in my nightgown, swung it open and there they were. Not my mom, the Jehovah Witnesses.

I don’t remember what they said when they saw me. I do remember sending them on their way by telling that that while I would happily take one of their magazines I couldn’t talk because I needed to get ready to go preach in church.

The Mormons showed up the next year. Two incredibly good looking young men; they were invited in by three of my female housemates: a Jew, a Muslim, and an atheist. They didn’t seem to mind hearing about the church of Jesus Christ and the Latter Day Saints because these guys were just that cute.

I don’t know if any of you have ever answered the door to have the person on the other side try to sell you Jesus but most people don’t seem to enjoy the experience.

And if I was to suggest to you all today that we were going to start going door to door telling people about Jesus my guess is I wouldn’t get too many takers.

In today’s gospel Jesus has just set his face towards Jerusalem. Everything he does now he does with the purpose of getting closer to this holy city where he knows he will die. Surrounded by his twelve disciples he appoints 70 more and sends them ahead of him into the towns and places he knows he will pass through on his way to Jerusalem.

He puts them into pairs and tells them to go knock on doors. 3”Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. 4Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. 5Whatever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house!' 6And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. 7Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. 8Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; 9cure the sick who are there, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.'”

Say what you will about the Mormon Church or the Jehovah Witnesses, they take this story seriously; they go out in pairs and spread a message that the kingdom of God is near.

I think we should take this story seriously too. The kingdom of God is near and while some people take this to mean that the end of the world is near, the reality is that God is near us every time we tell another person about Jesus. And while Jesus died a long time ago we proclaim that Jesus will come again. Every time we invite someone to church or offer to pray with them or enact a kindness we are preparing for Jesus’ salvation to come into this world.

One of the first things I learned about writing a sermon was that it should include two things. The first thing is the law. This is the thing that is supposed to point out our inability and our need for God. It’s supposed to show us our failings our faults and our sin. The second thing is the gospel. The gospel is supposed to show us God’s grace and love. It is supposed to remind us of the forgiveness that God has for us and the desire that God has for us.

And in this reading from Luke today the law can be summed up in one little phrase that Jesus speaks, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”

There are so many who don’t know what the love of Jesus really is. Too many people are coming to believe that the message the church speaks is one of judgment and hypocrisy. Too many people are coming to believe that Jesus only loves you if you have money, if you’re straight, if you’re conservative, if you vote a certain way.

Too many people are coming to believe that the church teaches ignorance and discrimination. Too many people believe that the message of Jesus is one of intolerance.

And yet, the message that Jesus tells the 70 to take out ahead of him is “Peace.” That’s the gospel. The message that Jesus wants his followers to spread ahead of him, while he is on his way to die in Jerusalem is peace.

The Mormons and the Jehovah Witnesses might corner the market on going door to door, but we know the message that Jesus wants the world to hear is peace and as Lutherans we have a unique understanding of peace.

We know that peace is not something we earn, but something that God gives us freely and solely on the merit of what Jesus did for us in Jerusalem some 2,000 years ago.

Sometimes there is a third part to a sermon, something that comes after the law and gospel. This is what you call the response.

The response is what happens after the law has driven you to see your need for God and the gospel has given you what you need from God. The response is what you do to say thank you. Usually it is an unwritten part of the sermon because it is what happens after the amen and everyone leaves the church.

The response is what happens after we are sent.

Amen.

The Spirit of God

A sermon based on the readings for Pentecost: Acts 2:1-21 and Romans 8:14-17

In the name of Jesus; amen.

For several years now I have belonged to an on-line discussion board of other pastors from many different denominations from all over North America. I’ve never met any of these people in person, but despite that fact there have been some friendships formed and I have come to care very much for the people I have met on-line. And despite the fact that we are from different places, different denominations, different political backgrounds and climates we have become a community. It’s the wonder of the internet that such a thing could take place.

Well, yesterday as I sat down to write this sermon, I stopped first at this discussion site. I wanted to get some information about Pentecost and I knew I could find it there when I saw a post entitled: “Sad news. Death of AWG.” AWG was the screen name for a Methodist pastor who serves the church in Maine.

Someone else on the site had noticed that he hadn’t been around for awhile and did some searching for him. AWG, or Allan, had a web-site that he ran for congregations that had been wounded by clergy misconduct and had just finished a book on the topic. He and his wife also kept a small cabin as a retreat center for pastors and their families who needed time away to refresh and renew themselves. When our son was diagnosed with lead poisoning Allan offered it to Scott and me, but we never took him up on the offer.


Allan suffered from diabetes and a bad heart. His health had started to fail and according to his web-site he died on March 27th.

This might sound like a strange way to being a sermon for Pentecost. Pentecost is, after all, a festival day, a day of celebration and rejoicing. Today we remember the Holy Spirit coming with wind and fire. We sang, “Every time I feel the Spirit” one of the most joyful spirituals I know as our canticle of praise.

It seems a strange time to talk about someone dying, except that my heart is heavy from this news about this man I never met who I know prayed for me and offered me encouragement and sound advice when I asked for his support. And that isn’t because of the wonder of the internet, but because of the grace of God and the wonder of God’s Holy Spirit.

AWG had been my friend through the work of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit might have worked through the computer, but the Spirit worked none-the-less because the Spirit works through relationships. Certainly the Spirit works in us as individuals, but the true purpose of the Spirit is to draw us together as a community and to bring us as individuals in community closer to God.

Those that gathered that first Pentecost shared a history with us as a people of faith. It began in a garden where life was perfect. It was a garden called into being by God’s own breath which in Hebrew is the same word as “spirit.” Ruah.

There we walked and talked with God, lived in relationship with God, until we decided perfection wasn’t perfect enough unless we could be like God and so we ate the fruit that the snake promised would make us know everything that God knew.

And out of the garden we were sent and as time passed we decided we wanted to be able to go where God was and so we built a tower. It was so tall that we were certain that soon enough it would reach heaven until God confused us by making us look different and talk different from one another.

The story of Adam and Eve being thrown out of the garden and the story of the tower of Babel were meant to explain how our relationships with God and our relationships with one another are broken relationships. But the story of Pentecost is a story of God putting the pieces of our relationships back together.

On Pentecost, the Spirit, the breath of God, breathes on us forming a new creation. It’s the same Spirit that is present in baptism where we are made children of God. And the Spirit works in us, pulling us together as God’s adopted children.

That pull happens in all sorts of strange ways and it binds us together with God and with people we haven’t even seen but are connected to by God’s love.

We are meant to be in relationship with God. God formed us in God’s own image so that we could be with God. The creator created us for the purpose of relationship. Not as playthings, or toys, or as a hobby, but as beloved children who love the one who made them.

We are also meant to be in relationship with one another. God saw that Adam was lonely and knew it wasn’t right. We were created to honor and care for one another. God sees that we struggle to understand and listen to one another and knows it isn’t right because we were created to honor and care for one another.

And the wonder of God making things right is that God decided to come and be with us. Jesus came as a real human being, lived with us, laughed and cried with us, and died for us. Then, when it was time for Jesus to return to God, God came to us again in the Spirit. No more trying to know everything God knows… no more trying to climb up to heaven… God came to us, to live in relationship with us.

My heart is weighed down by the death of a really wonderful person who I hardly knew, but I am filled with joy that God gave me such a relationship in the first place. And because of the Spirit my heavy heart soars with the knowledge that God is making all things right in the promise of the resurrection and in the promise of a tomorrow where even death cannot break relationships that God has called into being.

God’s purpose in us cannot be thwarted. Death, hell, and the devil have been defeated. The Spirit of God dwells with us and gathers us together in grief and in celebration.

Amen.


For AWG, rest in the peace of God.

Just Sing

A sermon based on Acts 16:16-34

In the name of Jesus; amen.

Last week our sending hymn was “When Peace Like a River.” Now I don’t know about the rest of you who were here, but that hymn for me was the highlight of my Sunday last week. Y’all sang that song like you meant it.

When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control, that Christ has regarded my helpless estate, and has shed his own blood for my soul.

He lives--oh, the bliss of this glorious thought; my sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to his cross and I bear it no more. Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

Lord, hasten the day when our faith shall be sight, the clouds be rolled back as a scroll, the trumpet shall sound and the Lord shall descend; even so it is well with my soul.

Now this was a hymn that was written in the 1800’s, but I imagine that the hymn that Paul and Silas sang in that first century prison that night after their arrest would have sounded just like “When Peace Like a River” especially the way we sang last week.

It’s one of my favorites by the way, as is the last hymn we will sing today, “Thine the Amen”. If you are at all like me then the words of many hymns are as sacred to you as scripture. In fact what Paul and Silas sang may very well have been scripture because the Psalms were used as hymns and were written with the intention of being sung.

Whatever it was that they were singing; those prisoners with them, in that jail, listened as they sang and prayed. They were so captivated by the words and music that even when there was a great earthquake so violent that it shook the foundations of the prison, they did not move. They were so captivated by the singing and praying that when the doors flew open and their chains were unfastened all of them remained.

And because of it the jailer and his whole family believed on the Lord Jesus and were baptized. The jailer, their captor, took them into his own home, cared for their wounds and fed them and he with his whole family was baptized without delay.

It’s a remarkable story. Paul and Silas are arrested, beaten with rods, thrown into the innermost cell in jail, their feet are fastened into stocks, and yet… they sing and pray and because of this a whole family comes to know Jesus.

Well, really it was God who did it, God who gave Paul and Silas the peace that let them sing so sweetly that this thing happened. It was God who caused the earthquake to happen, God who opened their prison doors and unlatched their chains. It was also God who worked in the hearts of the other prisoners, keeping them there to continue listening. And it was God who worked in the heart of the jailer as he washed the wounds Paul and Silas had received from their punishment, the horrible flogging they endured before being shackled; it was God who worked in the water of baptism.

God did it all.

God turned Paul and Silas’ captivity into something else. God recreated that moment in time so that the jailer might become captive to Christ’s love and Paul and Silas might become free of their prison.

It might seem as though the miracle would be that God caused an earthquake that shook open the prison, but the miracle was that God worked in the hearts of the characters in our story. God worked miracles in prayer and in singing.

God worked miracles in prayer and singing.

We aren’t told what Paul and Silas prayed and we aren’t told what hymns they sang, we are only told that they were praying and singing when God made the earthquake happen.

We don’t know if they were giving thanks or singing lament. We don’t know if they were asking to be rescued or singing about peaceful rivers. And I don’t much think it matters what prayers they were praying or what hymns they were singing. What matters is that in their captivity they prayed and they sang hymns and that God was listening.

God listens when we pray. The earth might not always shake after we say “amen”, but God listens. And God listens when we sing, even when we sing off key.

But God doesn’t just listen when we pray and when we sing. God frees us when we pray and God loosens the chains that bind us when we sing. And God connects us to others in our prayers and in our singing.

Paul and Silas did not pray secret prayers or sing silent hymns. Their words and music drew others in and caused them to listen and become a part of their experience of God.

God frees us only to connect us to others… to bind us in a new way to one another. It’s why we gather together to pray and to sing hymns out loud, because in doing so we become one with another.

So pray out loud and sing, even if it’s off key. God is listening to our voices and drawing them together.

Amen.

Our Mother, Christ

A sermon based on John 14:23-29

Jesus answered him, ‘Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.

‘I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, “I am going away, and I am coming to you.” If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.

In the name of Jesus; amen.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.”

When my brother and I were little the prospect of my parents going out for the night meant that we would have a sitter. Now, I was a momma’s girl and I never liked the idea of my mother going out and leaving us to be cared for by someone else. But the worst part for me was going to bed at night when my mother wasn’t home and the person taking care of us wasn’t my father.

Home took on a new meaning without my mom in it especially at night. There were nights with sitters where I would lie in bed trying to fall asleep with a feeling that could only be described as homesickness. For a little girl it was an odd concept; to be at home and still feel homesick and yet, that is exactly how I felt without my mother to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight.

I never wanted my mom to go away even for a night because that feeling was awful.

Except there was one sitter who didn’t make me feel that way. Whenever she would come I knew we were in for a good time. Doris would play with us, let us watch our TV shows, make us cool fun food, let us stay up past our bedtime and tuck my brother and me in bed just like my mom did. If Doris was our sitter, I could handle the fact that my mom wasn’t there.

In today’s gospel Jesus tells the disciples that he is leaving. It continues a theme from last week’s gospel where Jesus says this:

“Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.’”

Maybe some of you will have a hard time with the concept of Jesus being like a mother, but the idea is not so far off. Jesus referred to himself as a mother hen wanting to gather her brood under her wings and at the end of the 14th and beginning of the 15th centuries mystic Julian of Norwich wrote a series of visions in which she described Christ as mother.

She wrote:
“The Second Person of the Trinity is our mother in nature, in our substantial making. In him we are grounded and rooted, and he is our mother by mercy in our sensuality, by taking flesh.

“Thus our mother, Christ, in whom our parts are kept unseparated, works in us in various ways. For in our mother, Christ, we profit and increase, and in mercy he reforms and restores us, and by virtue of his passion, death, and resurrection joins us to our substance. This is how our mother, Christ, works in mercy in all his beloved children who are submissive and obedient to him….”

And of course it seems apropos for today to consider the idea.

Jesus is a mother about to leave her children in the care of another.

At this point in John’s gospel Jesus has told the disciples what is going to happen to him. They must be in a state of denial and despair; denial of the possibility that Jesus was really going to die and despair of the possibility that they would be without him.

I never wanted to believe that my parents would actually go out without me and my brother and I almost always worried that I would be ok without them.

Jesus promises that when he leaves his disciples someone else will come to take care of them. Our translation of this reading calls this other caretaker the Advocate, but the original word Jesus uses is Paraklete which I always find a funny sounding word. Is it a bird? Is it a pair of those shoes with spikes on the bottom that you wear to play sports?

Advocate is a good translation, but not perfect. It’s one of those words that loses the nuance when translated from the original. Other translations use, comforter, counselor, friend, and helper.

When we think of having an advocate we think of having a person who will speak on our behalf. It’s true, that’s what an advocate does, but the Advocate that the Father sends is meant to speak on behalf of Jesus.

The Advocate that the Father sends is meant to care for us on behalf of Jesus.

The Holy Spirit is our babysitter, the one that takes care of us in Jesus’ absence. But the Spirit isn’t just any old babysitter. The Spirit is the one that teaches us everything we need to know about Jesus and reminds us what he told us. The Holy Spirit is the one who comforts us and takes away that feeling of homesickness when Jesus, our mother is not with us.

The Spirit is the one who gives us the peace of Christ in Christ’s absence.

Mothers are meant to love their children; not all do and not all do it well, but Jesus, our mother, loves us enough, more than enough so that even in this time when we wait for his return we are provided for out of that love.

It is the Paraklete who tucks us into bed at night and kisses us on the forehead, reminds us to say our prayers and tells us that we are deeply loved.

It is the Paraklete who tells us not to worry… mom will be home again soon and we don’t need to be afraid.

It is the Paraklete who holds us until Christ comes again to gather us up in his arms and hold us close.

We are cared for and loved by our mother Jesus and our Father in Heaven and the Paraklete, the Holy Spirit, Christ’s advocate and our caretaker.

Amen.

All you need is love

A sermon based on John 13:31-35
When he had gone out, Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, "Where I am going, you cannot come.' I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

In the name of Jesus; amen.

There's nothing you can do that can't be done.
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.
It's easy.

Nothing you can make that can't be made.
No one you can save that can't be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It's easy.

Nothing you can know that isn't known.
Nothing you can see that isn't shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.
It's easy.

All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

On the night that Jesus was betrayed he stood up from his meal and washed his disciples’ feet. He told them that he was going to be betrayed and as they questioned which one of them it might be Judas gets up and leaves. It is at this point that our gospel begins with events that put into motion Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion.

Judas goes out to alert the authorities of Jesus’ wherabouts and Jesus turns to his friends and tells them that the Son of Man and God have been glorified, are glorified, and will be glorified. Then he tells them where he is going, they cannot come, however, he gives them a new commandment:

Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.

It wasn’t a small matter that night and it isn’t a small matter today. Throughout scripture, when asked what the most important commandment is, Jesus always responds with a command to love; love God, love your neighbor.

And this time Jesus puts a new emphasis on the command… to love as he loved.

Reading this gospel now, knowing that Jesus is about to show his love by going to the cross, might make some of us a little uncomfortable. Are we supposed to love by dying like Jesus did? No, and Jesus says this: “Where I am going you can not come.” But, Jesus is clear that we are to love others the way that he loved. Jesus who ate with tax collectors, welcomed children into his arms, and sat down with prostitutes wants us to love the way he loved.

In 1967 The Beatles performed “All you need is Love” in front of a world-wide audience via satellite. It was the first ever live global television link. Broadcast to 26 countries and watched by 350 million people (perhaps you were one of them) John and Paul, backed by Ringo and George, proclaimed a new slogan for the time: “All you need is love.”

With love, they asserted, all things could be accomplished. There was nothing you could do that couldn’t be done, all you needed was love to sing the song, learn the game, make the thing, save those in need of being saved, and be you, it was easy!

I don’t think they were entirely wrong. Love is a powerful thing. There is strength in love that cannot be matched in any other way. Knowing that we are loved can give us a whole new view of ourselves and our lives, but loving changes us and it makes the world different.

Jesus’ love changed the world, it undid death, it saved us. But it was the first part of the act. Jesus’ love wasn’t meant to end at his crucifixion or at his resurrection. It didn’t end with his ascension or with the coming of the Spirit. It was the first part of a continuous action. God was glorified, is being glorified, and will be glorified in the act of our being loved by Jesus and then loving others because of it.

But we are supposed to love the way Jesus did, in an unconditional way, in a way that is active and free of judgement. It’s not meant for just one group or kind of people. It isn’t meant for just the people we know and like.

This love that Jesus wants us to act out is love for one another. It’s love for those we like and dislike. It’s love for those we agree with and disagree with. It’s love for those we live with and those who live lives we will never experience.

And it’s an active love. It’s a love that spoke truth and kindness. It’s a love that embraced the sick and cuddled children. It’s a love that washed feet. It’s a love that valued the other regardless of race, gender, and social class and it’s meant to be a love that keeps on valuing the other regardless of politics, religion, and even sexual orientation.

When the Beatles did that broadcast it was a significant event in the age of technology. It was meant to make the world smaller, to bring people closer together. We live in a time not unlike that first century world where we are exposed to all kinds of people. But the world seems bigger despite the technology that was meant to make it smaller and we have found new ways of despising one another and acting out of that spite.

But love is meant to connect us and the love that Jesus gives us freely can do that and does that. It brings us together in our faith as brothers and sisters through baptism and then calls us to live out our faith in the world, not separate from those who are not like us, but with them in love.

If all we really need is love, then we have it. We have everything because Jesus loved us, loves us, will always love us and gives us enough to share with one another.

Amen.

The Lord is my shepherd

A sermon based upon John 10:22-30

In the name of Jesus; amen.

In the name of Jesus; amen.

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

The Lord is my shepherd; it’s a strange notion for a modern day people. Shepherds aren’t real prevalent here in CT and in the 2 ½ years that I’ve lived here I have yet to see any sheep.

In college, my senior year, I had friends whose dorm room was in a house half way between the freshmen dorm and the fraternity houses on campus. Their room had a deck and so during the first few weeks of classes we would sit out on the balcony and watch as the freshmen, who weren’t supposed to be going to frat parties yet, march in herds down the path that would lead to them to the kegs of beer that waited for them. As they passed we would bah at them.

They were sheep without a shepherd going toward a drunken doom.

The Lord is my shepherd. There are still shepherds today; after all there are still sheep. But to say that the Lord is my shepherd seems an odd thing when you live in a city or a small town where there are no such things; where it isn’t common place.

Shepherds weren’t thought very highly of in Jesus’ day. They were dirty, menial workers. They weren’t highly educated, if they were educated at all… and yet Jesus chooses this image to describe himself.

It might have reminded the people of King David. He started as a lowly shepherd boy who slew a giant with a small stone and a slingshot, but most would have thought of dirty workers who spent their time out in the fields tending animals.

The Lord is my shepherd. The people gathered around him wanted to know who Jesus thought he was. Our translation has them asking “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” But the actual Greek is more like, “How long will you take away our life?” Or perhaps more accurately, “How long are you going to keep annoying us? Just say it, will you?”

Jesus’ reaction is to talk about his sheep, those who hear his voice and who follow him. Jesus did not need to come out and say that he was the Messiah, his teachings and actions had already said plainly who he was.

The Lord is my shepherd. Sheep and their shepherds have a unique relationship. I read a story once about a man who had gone to the Holy Land to meet and work with actual shepherds. He studied how they cared for the sheep, learned the words they used to call them, watched how they interacted with the sheep. Then he asked if he could try and the shepherd said go ahead. So the man called the sheep and they wouldn’t come. He tried over and over again, but he couldn’t get the sheep to listen to him. Finally he asked the shepherd what he was doing wrong and the shepherd told him. The sheep know my voice; they will only answer my voice.

When we proclaim the words of the 23rd Psalm we are claiming a similar relationship. If Jesus is our shepherd then we hear his voice and follow him. If Jesus is our shepherd then Jesus knows us, he can pick us out of the fold, call us by name and we will answer.

I joked about the freshmen at college. We really did bah at them because it seemed clear that without a shepherd guarding their every move they made their way straight into the den of wolves along fraternity row. But the fact of the matter is that even when we stray from our shepherd Jesus still knows us and calls out to us until we hear him again.

This is the promise of this gospel story. The Father has given us to Jesus the Shepherd and this is more important to Jesus than all else. It is so important that we are given eternal life so that Jesus can be our shepherd for all time.

Jesus is our shepherd in our times of want, when our souls are depleted, when death casts its shadow over us, and when we are surrounded by our enemies.

We are Jesus’ sheep and Jesus is our shepherd. This isn’t a casual relationship. Jesus knows us and in knowing us Jesus cares for us and protects us so that no one or thing can snatch us away from him.

The Lord is my shepherd is an assurance of being gathered and fed, protected and loved no matter what. Not even death can claim us because the shepherd places us in the hands of the Father.

In light of the events 2 weeks ago, I should mention other college students; students who with their teachers seemed snatched away by another angry college student. Jesus called to them too and led them through the valley of the shadow of death into the safety of God’s fields of life. They were not snatched away from the shepherd.

The Lord is our shepherd, who loves us, and shelters us from all evil. His voice calls to us. He knows each one of us. Listen for his voice and follow. Amen.

Hopeful Thomas

A sermon based on John 20:19-31

In the name of Jesus; amen.

The famous preacher, Franklin Fry, once said, “I am 49% atheist.” (Or so I’ve heard.)

I find it a remarkable thing to only be 49% atheist because there are days that all I can do is cling to the one percent of me that still wants to believe. Those moments of doubt strike at weird times and at sensible times; they strike when I least expect them and when I am fully prepared for them, but they strike none the less.

Today’s gospel reading is an important story for the life of every Christian believer. It comes in 3rd right behind Christmas and Easter and in 4th place if you want to add Good Friday to the list. It’s an important story because it talks about disbelief, doubt and uncertainty and most Christians, even the most firm believers, struggle with those things from time to time.

John tells us that at least 10 of his followers were huddled together in a room and they were afraid. The events of two days before haunted them despite what Mary Magdalene had said, despite the fact that Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved had witnessed the empty tomb that very morning. Their lives were in danger and they had seen first hand what the consequences of capture and arrest would be.

Then Jesus comes, stands there in the room with them and says, “Peace be with you” and everything changes. They forget their fear, start to rejoice, Jesus fills them with the Holy Spirit and disappears.

Then Thomas shows up.

Now it was reasonable for Thomas to doubt. All the other disciples had doubted until Jesus showed up in that room that night. They had not believed when they had been told by Mary that she had seen the resurrected Jesus. Even Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved were skeptical when they had seen the empty tomb, all they knew for certain was that his body was now gone.

It was reasonable for Thomas to want some proof. Mary had gotten proof and so had Peter and the others. Jesus had appeared to Mary called her by name and then she believed. Jesus had come and stood in the room where the disciples were hiding and had shown them his hands and feet and the wounds that were there.

It was reasonable for Thomas to react just the way he did. It’s a crazy story and even if Thomas weren’t the most practical or the most skeptical of the disciples it would have been hard to believe. Even if he had been the most open-minded, the most faithful of the disciples it would have been hard not to doubt.

And for a week he must have struggled as his friends told and retold the story of what happened when he wasn’t there. It must have burned. It must have eaten him up inside. Either they were all crazy or he had missed it. Either they were playing a sick joke on him or Jesus hadn’t thought he was important enough for a personal appearance.

All week he continued to live in Good Friday’s shadow. Whether he wanted to believe what the others said or not he hadn’t been a part of what had taken place that night in that room; he hadn’t seen what they had seen.

Ever wonder why Jesus chose then to appear? Wouldn’t he have known the Thomas wasn’t in the room? Do you think he did it on purpose? Because I think he did. I think Jesus purposefully waited until Thomas wasn’t in the room that night. I think he timed it until he knew that Thomas wouldn’t be there because at best all of us are 49% atheists.

At best all of us doubt sometimes. At best we live in the shadow of Good Friday and there are days that shadow lets in very little light.

The story of Thomas is our story. We weren’t in the room that night and there are plenty of reasons to doubt the validity of the claim the others made. There are a million and one reasons to not believe 2,000 years later to add to the greatest reason Thomas had: he had seen Jesus dead!

And yet, Thomas finds himself back in that room. A week goes by and he is there with the others, the same ones who told him this crazy story of seeing his friend resurrected.

And that’s the key. As easy as it might be to doubt it’s just as easy to give up and walk away, but Thomas didn’t. He was still there a week later.

When you doubt, and you will… don’t walk away… don’t give up. We call him doubting Thomas, but we should call him hopeful Thomas because even in his doubt and unbelief he continued to hope that the story he had been told was true.

And it is true. Believe it or not. Jesus died and then was raised. And Jesus will come to you, even if you have locked the doors, even if you doubt. Jesus will offer you peace that shines light into our Good Friday world. It happens.

Do not let go of hope when you doubt, but continue to gather with the community of faith, continue to pray, continue to question, the peace of Christ will come to you.

It did for hopeful Thomas.

Amen.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

A sermon for Easter 2007 based upon

Luke 24:1-12

In the name of Jesus; amen.

What were they remembering as they made their way to the tomb?

Were they remembering the way to go? Which turns to make, what landmarks to pass? Were they remembering the ritual that they were about to perform? Did it remind them of other times they had done it?

Were they remembering the list of spices that they carried? Had they remembered to bring everything? Was something missing?

What were these women remembering as they watched the sun come up on their way to his grave?

Joanna had been a financial supporter, the wife of Herod’s steward she had supplied money for his ministry. Was she remembering putting the coins in his hand, the look in his eye as he thanked her?

And Mary, the mother of James, one of his disciples; what was she remembering? Was it the first time her son told her about this man he was going to follow? Did she remember worrying back then what might happen when she let him go?

What about Mary Magdalene? Was she remembering that moment when he had freed her from the demons that haunted her? Was that the moment stuck in her memory… or was it the moment when she had watched him lifted up on the cross? Was it the moment that she saw that he was dead?

What were they remembering as they went to the place they were sure he would be?

Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes it can sneak up on us unawares and make us giggle or bring a tear to our eye. It can bring on feelings of guilt once thought quelled or make us crave food we haven’t tasted in years.

There are memories I wish that I could retain and memories I wish I could forget. There is an incompleteness to memory. It only shares with us bits and pieces of what really happened. I always find it interesting to reminisce with old friends because I am amazed at the things that my mind has retained and the things it has forgotten.

Our memories as much as our past shape us; they create who we are and help us process who we want to be.

As they walked to the tomb these women’s memories were changing them. This is what happens when someone dies especially someone we hold dear, someone we have supported, spent time with, laughed and cried with. Because when someone dies you become uniquely aware that your connection to them is now only through memory.

They believed all they had left was yesterday and the time before that.

Whatever they were remembering, they had forgotten something.

When they came to the tomb they found that the stone had been rolled away. They had remembered that it had been put there. Certainly they remembered the size and shape of it; they must have remembered the sound of it grinding against the rock behind it as it was moved to seal the tomb. It must have been a noise etched into their memory, one that made them cringe when they thought of it.

They remembered that his body had been wrapped and placed in the cave. They had watched it happen… every agonizing moment, but when they went inside he wasn’t there and they were perplexed.

It wasn’t like they remembered? Had they gotten it wrong? Taken a wrong turn? Entered the wrong tomb?

“This is the place, isn’t it?”

And then suddenly two men in dazzling white appear and they are terrified… “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Where were their memories then? Because they remembered him dead… dead and gone. That was their last memory of him. He had been taken down from the cross, wrapped in a shroud and put in a tomb… there were no other memories.

“Remember… remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

Then they remembered… they remembered his words, the thing that he had told them and suddenly memory turned into hope and hope turned into joy. And it didn’t matter that the others found it an idle tale… their memories had been transformed into a vision of the future.

See, Easter isn’t about memories, but how our memories are healed and made new. Easter heals our memories.

It heals our memories of guilt and sin… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have forgiveness.

It heals our memories of sorrow and loss… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have the surety of newness and reunion.

It heals our memories of brokenness and pain… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we might have joy in our lives with him.

Good Friday is a memory, but Easter is a present reality. He is not dead, but is risen!

Do not forget.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia! Amen!

Good Friday

READING John 19:16b-25a
16b So they took Jesus; 17and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. 18There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. 19Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." 20Many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. 21Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, "Do not write, 'The King of the Jews,' but, 'This man said, I am King of the Jews.'" 22Pilate answered, "What I have written I have written." 23When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. 24So they said to one another, "Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it." This was to fulfill what the scripture says,
"They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots."
25aAnd that is what the soldiers did.

The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all:
for the transgression of my people was he stricken.

In the name of Jesus; amen.

We had a phrase in high school, when we would see people being intimate with one another out in public. You know what I’m talking about when I say being intimate with one another out in public… making out at the mall or touching that went beyond holding hands out on the street. The phrase we would use was: “PDA” or “public displays of affection.”

It wasn’t something we needed to see except maybe in an R rated movie or on a soap opera. Sometimes one of us would be brave enough to say out loud, “Get a room” and hope the couple would get the hint that their behavior was inappropriate.

There are some things that aren’t meant for public consumption. There are some things that should be kept behind closed doors. There are some things that should not be publicized for the world to see.

“16b So they took Jesus; 17and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. 18There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. 19Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." 20Many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek.”
There were a lot of Jews in Jerusalem; it was around the time of the festival and Jews from all over the known world passed by the place where Jesus hung. They would have been people who spoke: Hebrew, Latin, and Greek. And there weren’t just Jews using that road. Other people, gentiles, would have found occasion to travel outside the city as well.

They would have seen the spectacle. Mothers would have shielded their children’s eyes as they passed, Fathers would have hurried their families along so that the image would have been blurred. Some would have stopped or slowed down, the way we do when we pass an accident on the road.

They would have read the sign, seen the blood, smelled the smell of death and sweat. Some would have taunted, others would have cried, and still others would have been indifferent. But they would have been witnesses and they would have known that the charge against this dying man was that he was the King of the Jews.

It was a public claim and a public death. It didn’t happen in a secluded room or in a cell deep within prison walls. It didn’t happen in an R rated movie or on daytime television when the kids are in school.

This was a PDA, a public display of affection.

Last week, I found myself explaining Salem’s Palm Sunday service to my almost 8 year old daughter. Our service is a little different than others. We focus, not on the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, but on Jesus’ passion and death. The service begins on a happy note; we wave our Palm branches and process around the church singing, “All Glory Laud and Honor to you redeemer King!” But soon enough the story of Jesus’ betrayal and death becomes more and more evident. We finish the service in silence and reflection after singing, “Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?”

“Why do we have to have services about bad things? She asked.

There is a reason why we don’t like PDA’s. They are personal moments, intimate things and we especially don’t want our children to see them, because it exposes them to stuff they aren’t meant to understand quite yet.

Except for this… except for this PDA of Jesus’ death.

“Well,” I said. “We want to remember this thing that Jesus did for us. We want to remember that Jesus loved us so much that he was willing to let bad things happen to him so that we would know that when bad things happen to us that he understands and that he is with us no matter what we go through.”

But there is more to it than just that. Jesus’ death was a public event because it was meant to be witnessed. We are meant to be witnesses to his suffering, to be pulled in and gawk at it, to experience it. It wasn’t meant to be a secret event that is whispered about or buried on the back page of the papers. We aren’t supposed to hurry past it or shield our eyes and try to forget.

This PDA is supposed to be public; this intimate act is supposed to be seen.

And it’s not just so that we get the idea that Jesus suffered for us. Hanging on the cross with Christ were all our sins and we are to be witnesses of that too.

Jesus aired out our dirty laundry on the cross and then washed it clean with sweat and blood. Publicly, Jesus took our sins, our failures, our guilt and claimed them on the cross. He let them be nailed up there with him for all the world to see and then changed them with each drop of blood and every agonizing breath.

Publicly, God recreated us in love. God threw arms around us and kissed us for all the world to see; God touched us intimately and proclaimed, “This is my love.”

It couldn’t be hidden, locked up in some room, shown only in secret when no one else was around. Jesus’ death was a public display of affection for the whole world.

Be a witness to it, let it pull you in, experience it, and live it publicly.

Amen.

Maundy Thursday

a sermon based upon

John 13:1-16; 31-35

In the name of Jesus; amen.

Last week my father called and asked when I was going to do his feet. It has become a tradition since coming to CT that I set aside some time to give my dad a pedicure each year before Maundy Thursday.

Now I love getting pedicures; it is an indulgence and when I have the ability to go and have my feet done I jump at the chance. So I try very hard to give my dad a nice pedicure when he asks because I know that he won’t indulge in going to a salon to have a professional do it for him.

There are some people who don’t like to have their feet touched. Feet are a funny thing. Maybe they don’t like how their feet look and so they are embarrassed to have someone else see them or maybe they are ticklish and so they can’t stand to have someone else touch them without breaking into laughter.

And so, this night is an odd night when we pull out a basin and invite everyone to come forward with bare feet and have someone else pour water over them and then take a towel to dry them off. It’s not quite a pedicure… but it is still a strange ritual inserted right in the middle of the service where we remember Jesus’ last meal with his friends.

If you are uncomfortable with the idea of coming forward, that’s ok. Like I said, there are people who just don’t like to have their feet touched and no one should worry about what others will think if they come forward, sit in the chair, and get their feet wet or not.

It was a strange thing that Jesus did. Right in the middle of supper he gets up, takes off his robe, ties a towel around his waste, gets a basin, and going from disciple to disciple begins to wash their feet.

But it wasn’t that their feet were dirty and Jesus just couldn’t stand it anymore so he decided to wash them himself. Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. And having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end…

Their feet were already clean. Feet were washed upon entering a home to take off the dirt and sand that they had walked through outside. Their hands would also have been washed… it was part of the meal-time ritual to wash one’s hands before eating.

This wasn’t something that Jesus had to do for them… it was something he did because he loved them. He was their teacher, their master, the one who they followed and suddenly there he was touching their feet, washing them, and drying them right in the middle of supper.

I’m sure they were all perplexed and a bit surprised, but it is Peter who speaks up… who brings up the weirdness of it. “Are you going to wash my feet?”

His feet were clean, they didn’t need to be washed and certainly he didn’t want Jesus to wash his feet. He should be washing Jesus’ feet if there was going to be any foot washing… but Jesus insists.

And something happens… Jesus is no longer master, but servant and friend. A new relationship begins for those gathered that night. They might not understand it at first, but later they will when they discover that the tomb is empty and Jesus stands, resurrected, in front of them. Later, they will understand why their feet were washed when Christ gives them a new mission to preach the gospel to the world.

Later they will understand that Jesus was sent to care for them so that they might care for others… that he loved them so that they might love others just as he loved them.

It was an odd thing to wash their feet right in the middle of supper. But Jesus did it so that they might understand their need to feel loved by him and to not resist that need or his love. We need the love of Jesus… love that is poured out in the water of washing and in the bread and cup of his supper. It is love meant to give us a part of him and to make us a part of his love.

It is love that makes us friends: friends of Christ and also friends to others, to those Christ has called us to serve.

Jesus’ love changes us. It makes us bare our feet and extend our hand. It makes us stop resisting our need for mercy, forgiveness, and love. And it fills us with a desire to serve, not because we are servants or less than others, but because it transforms our relationships with others.

This night, filled with odd traditions and a meal of ordinary stuff that becomes Jesus’ own body and blood is a night of transforming love, love that gets into us and wants us to share it with others.

Let it transform you, even if you don’t get your feet wet. Let it transform you as you come to the table. Let it transform you into a friend. Amen.

Lent 5

A sermon based upon John 12:1–8

In the name of Jesus; amen.

Maybe it was purchased for Lazarus when he was sick and dying, or it was the family’s stash for use when one of them died. It was a good spice to use for the dead, because it was so strong and fragrant and covered the smell. Perhaps it was money in the bank. Expensive and pricey it could have been sold in the event of an emergency or turned into cash for other investments. Or it could have been used for retirement or as a dowry for marriage.

Whatever reason this family had it, it was of great value to them. It might have even been the single most valuable thing this family owned… and there she was, at his feet, pouring it over them… every last drop.

Good God, what was she doing? The oil, worth a year’s salary, dripped from his toes, his ankles, the soles of his feet and she was wiping them with her hair.

A stunned silence permeated the air alongside the smell of it; it filled the whole house and their sinuses. It got into their clothes, in their hair, and on their skin. It was the smell of death and love mixed together.

Have you ever been hit by a strong, unmistakable smell? One that filled your nose and took over your senses? One that pulled you so deeply into the moment in which you were in that it stopped you cold?
They say that the sense of smell is perhaps the strongest of our senses. We taste almost as much with our nose as we do with our tongue. The sense of smell has the ability to weaken our stomachs, elate us, and pull us into memories of things we have long forgotten. And this smell would have filled their very souls.

It was a sensual, intimate, extravagant act that Mary performed; done right in the middle of dinner, in front of all the company. As a custom, people ate while reclining; everyone would have seen what she was doing and if their view was obscured so that they missed seeing it then they would have smelled it, put down their food, stopped talking in the middle of what they were saying and watched as Jesus looked at Mary wiping his feet with her hair.

What happened in that moment between them was deep and emotion-filled… it was a holy and personal moment… and then Judas opened his mouth.

John, the gospel-writer/story teller tells us his motives: Judas is a thief who steals from the common purse which has been entrusted to his care by Jesus and the other disciples.

Judas saw Mary wasting what could have fetched a large amount of money, at least 300 denarii, what might be equivalent to about $2,000 today. It was money he could have used to line his own pockets and so he spoke out against her actions. “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” Maybe he was a thief, but it’s quite possible that he wasn’t the only one in the room with that or a similar thought.

Jesus talked a lot about the poor. He often told people that they should give all they had to the poor. Jesus criticized greed and waste. And there he was… letting this woman pour out her family’s most valued asset onto his feet. There he was, letting her wipe it away with her unbound hair.

John does not share Mary’s reason for doing what she did that night at dinner, but Jesus does, “Leave her alone.” He tells Judas and the rest. “She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Maybe she knew. Mary was a listener so maybe she had heard him talk about what was about to happen when he reached Jerusalem. What she did know was that not long before he had arrived at her home and called her brother out of his grave and so maybe this was her way of saying thank you, or I love you, or I know you are going to die and I have to do something for you that matters, really matters.

Whatever her intentions, she poured out for him her thing of greatest value and it filled the room with its scent and lingered.

The extravagance of love lingers. It lingered with Jesus, who on the night he was betrayed stooped down and washed the feet of his friends. It lingered with Jesus and mixed with his sweat as he carried the cross to the place of his death. It lingered with Jesus in his dying breath. It lingered with him in the tomb where the extravagance of God’s love did something that lingers with us today.

Can you smell it? The smell of God’s grace filling the house, entering our nasal passages, seeping into our pores?

Can you smell what extravagant love can do; extravagant love for God, love that unbinds our hair, and our senses, and brings us to the feet of Jesus?

Love that says, thank you, and I love you, and I know that you died out of love for me.

Be extravagant with your love; do not hold it back. Jesus says that Mary bought the perfume for the day of his burial, but she doesn’t wait until he is dead to use it. Be extravagant with your love; pour it out for others to smell and taste and see and hear and feel.

For God is extravagant with love for us, love that lingers and lasts for all time.

Amen.

Lent 4

This week's sermon was preached without a manuscript.

Here are two versions of the story that Jesus told:

Eugene Peterson's The Message:
Gospel Luke 15:1–3, 11b–32
1 By this time a lot of men and women of doubtful reputation were hanging around Jesus, listening intently. 2 The Pharisees and religion scholars were not pleased, not at all pleased. They growled, "He takes in sinners and eats meals with them, treating them like old friends." 3 Their grumbling triggered this story.

11 Then he said, "There was once a man who had two sons. 12 The younger said to his father, 'Father, I want right now what's coming to me.' 13 It wasn't long before the younger son packed his bags and left for a distant country. There, undisciplined and dissipated, he wasted everything he had. 14 After he had gone through all his money, there was a bad famine all through that country and he began to hurt. 15 He signed on with a citizen there who assigned him to his fields to slop the pigs. 16 He was so hungry he would have eaten the corncobs in the pig slop, but no one would give him any. 17 "That brought him to his senses. He said, 'All those farmhands working for my father sit down to three meals a day, and here I am starving to death. 18 I'm going back to my father. I'll say to him, Father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you; 19 I don't deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.' 20 He got right up and went home to his father. When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. 21 The son started his speech: 'Father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you; I don't deserve to be called your son ever again.' 22 "But the father wasn't listening. He was calling to the servants, 'Quick. Bring a clean set of clothes and dress him. Put the family ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We're going to feast! We're going to have a wonderful time! 24 My son is here - given up for dead and now alive! Given up for lost and now found!' And they began to have a wonderful time. 25 "All this time his older son was out in the field. When the day's work was done he came in. As he approached the house, he heard the music and dancing. 26 Calling over one of the houseboys, he asked what was going on. 27 He told him, 'Your brother came home. Your father has ordered a feast - barbecued beef! - because he has him home safe and sound.' 28 "The older brother stalked off in an angry sulk and refused to join in. His father came out and tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't listen. 29 The son said, 'Look how many years I've stayed here serving you, never giving you one moment of grief, but have you ever thrown a party for me and my friends? 30 Then this son of yours who has thrown away your money on whores shows up and you go all out with a feast!' 31 "His father said, 'Son, you don't understand. You're with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours - 32 but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he's alive! He was lost, and he's found!'"


New Revised Standard Version:
Gospel Luke 15:1–3, 11b–32
1 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. 2 And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."
3 So he told them this parable: 11 There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to himself he said, 'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands." ' 20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 21 Then the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' 22 But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe — the best one — and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!' And they began to celebrate.
25 Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27 He replied, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.' 28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But he answered his father, 'Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!' 31 Then the father said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'"

Lent 3

A sermon based upon Isaiah 55:1–9 and Luke 13:1–9

In the name of Jesus; amen.

Jesus was surrounded by a large crowd and preaching to his disciples about how one should live their life. It was a sermon filled with warnings about being prepared and being faithful and as he was preaching some in the group spoke up and mentioned an incident in which Pilate had squashed an uprising in Galilee and blood had been spilled.

We aren’t told exactly what they said to Jesus, but by his response we might imagine something like this was said: “They must have been really awful sinners to have something like that happen. Wasn’t that terrible? They really must have deserved it; don’t you think so, Jesus?”

There was no question that what had happened was a terrible thing and when terrible things happen it’s a natural thing to want to justify why it happened, but listen to what Jesus says:

“Do you think,” he asks, “that because these Galileans suffered in this way that they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them – do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

In the recent past there have been some great large-scale tragedies. Who can forget the towers that fell on 9/11? Or the tsunami that hit Indonesia in 2004? Or hurricane Katrina that destroyed the gulf coast? Or the killing of Amish girls in a one-room school house?

Each time great tragedies occur in the world or in our personal lives we wonder why.

The people who mention the Galilean tragedy have a theory on the why: they were sinners and deserved it.

We shouldn’t be surprised; we’ve heard similar theories associated with recent tragedies. For instance did anyone hear the theory that New Orleans was wiped out because it was a city of sin and God wanted to punish those living there so he sent Katrina?

The people who approach Jesus wanted to point fingers, to have a good excuse for why such an awful thing would have happened, but they also wanted something else. They wanted some sort of assurance that they weren’t like those who had been killed.

What Jesus tells them is that tragedies happen and they happen without reason sometimes and they happen to people no matter what kind of sinner they are. Sometimes bad things happen to good people and sometimes bad things happen to bad people and so we can’t judge a person’s sinfulness based upon the blessings or curses they receive.

That is the first part. Here’s the second: life is short and we can’t assume that everything will be great for us just because.

Jesus tells a parable about a fig tree. For three years the owner of the fig tree comes looking for fruit on it and finds none, so he tells the gardener to cut it down. But the gardener pleads for it and offers to take special care of it in hopes that it will produce for its owner.

The people wanted Jesus to talk bad about those whom Pilate killed, but instead of Jesus getting pulled into their finger-pointing talk he pointed the finger back at them. Those who suffered tragedy were not worse sinners than others who deserved to be punished but we are all sinners for whom tragedy may very well occur.

Jesus tells them to repent. Jesus tells us to repent because our time is limited. Do it now, because there may not be a later. But don’t be confused, repentance is not a one time act and then everything is ok. Jesus isn’t suggesting we just say that we are sorry and ask for forgiveness. Instead Jesus wants us to live repentant-ly; he wants us to live fruitfully.

Isaiah says it this way: “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen so that you may live.”

Living a repentant life, a fruitful life is living a life of constant desire for God. It isn’t esoteric or metaphoric, it is physical and real. It is purposeful life lived not in judgment of others but in service to God through our relationships and care of others.

In other words… we aren’t meant to do good in order to be saved or avoid tragedy, but in order to be fruitful. If God has given us more time it is for the purpose of fruitfulness.

Jesus wants us to be fruitful which means constantly turning to God for good things rather than wasting our money and labor for that which does not satisfy.

And we have been given another year to do this. That’s grace… unbelievable grace. God so desires our fruitfulness that we are given more time to produce, but time isn’t the only thing we are given. Jesus, the gardener makes a promise to fertilize the ground in which we are planted… to give us that which we need to be fruitful in the time we have been granted.

And why does God want us to be fruitful? Because a fruitful life is a full life. It is a life of rich things that satisfy instead of things that leave us thirsty and hungry. It is a life where tragedy and sin do not have the final word in our lives and this is the desire that God has for us. God desires our lives to be full and filled with good things. God wants to provide the thirsty with water and those with nothing enough to buy wine and milk… drinks of celebration and goodness.

And so we have been given another year and fertilizer; the things that help us to grow. Be fruitful and repentant and may the grace of God bless you with fullness and new life. Amen.

Lent 2

A sermon based upon Luke 13:31–35

In the name of Jesus; amen.

At that very same hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”

Jesus was causing trouble and he was doing it on the Sabbath. He was preaching about God and had just healed a woman who had a physical ailment which had bent her over for 18 years. He had called the leader of the synagogue a hypocrite and the people were eating him up when suddenly some Pharisees come and tell him to run away.

At first it might seem as though they were trying to help Jesus by warning him of impending danger. This was the same Herod who had beheaded Jesus’ cousin, John the Baptist and his father was the one who had slaughtered innocent children in hopes of killing the baby Jesus. Herod might very well have been after him and would have had the means necessary to kill him.

It sounds as though they were trying to help.

Listen again to what Jesus tells them upon hearing his life is in danger: “Go and tell that fox or me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’”

Jesus doesn’t sound too afraid, does he? In fact he sounds remarkably unafraid. We know why. Herod is not a threat; Jesus is on a mission that will take him to Jerusalem where he knows death is not going to come from Herod, but from the people who hand him over to be crucified.

He calls Herod a fox; an animal not considered the most cunning or ferocious in Jesus’ day. Herod is more of a nuisance than a threat to Jesus.

Maybe those Pharisees who come to warn Jesus were worried about him, but more likely they were worried about the trouble that Jesus was causing. If Herod was out to get him then the Pharisees didn’t want the trouble that would come with Herod’s desire to hurt him. Not that Jesus wasn’t already causing trouble, because he was; and if they got him to leave well… that might be better for them in every respect, or so they thought.

After calling Herod a fox Jesus makes it clear that he is headed for Jerusalem and he is going there because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem,” he laments, “the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

The Pharisees want Jesus to move along or change his message. They were happy with the status quo and Jesus was messing it up for them.

Jesus calls Herod a fox, but he likens himself to a mother hen wanting to gather her chicks under her wings. It’s a beautiful metaphor… Jesus as mother.

Hens gather their brood under their wings when there is danger from a predator. They call out to them and make their wings into a protective dome with an opening large enough for all of them to gather under.

This is Jesus, a stark contrast to the fox Herod who wants to kill him and the Pharisees who want him to abandon them. Jesus’ desire is to offer shelter and protection to unwilling chicks.

Herod was the king of the Jewish people, but he was not a religious man. He was too concerned with his own well-being and status to give much credence to God. He was king at the pleasure of Rome and he served them… not the people. And the Pharisees, while religious, did not want to upset the boat. They liked their rules and their notions about holiness.

The message that Jesus preached upset their world… it was an upsetting message not because it was exclusive, but because it was too inclusive. It let too many people in under its wings and called them to reconsider too closely what made a person blessed.

Jesus’ message was for all; his motherly wings large enough to gather the whole world to his breast, but it meant a different life and that scared people.

It still scares people… this idea of being gathered under Jesus’ motherly wings. It’s why there are churches out there growing by leaps and bounds who do not display a cross anywhere or anytime in their worship. It’s why there are churches out there growing by leaps and bounds that preach that Jesus wants us to be rich and drive expensive cars. It’s why there are churches out there growing by leaps and bounds that tell its members that only they will be saved while the rest of humanity will be left behind to suffer eternal torment.

And yet, Jesus wants to gather us in and shelter us… all of us under the message of God’s love and grace like a mother hen gathers her chicks together under her wings.

This is why he made his way to Jerusalem even though he knew that Jerusalem meant his death; because the cross is meant to gather us and shelter us. The cross is meant to embrace us, not in death, but in new life. The cross is meant to hold us and cover us with all the blessings of God.

These wings of Jesus, this cross of Christ, is for all… be willing and be sheltered. Amen.

Lent 1

A sermon based upon Deuteronomy 26:1–11

In the name of Jesus; amen.

From our bulletin’s introduction today:

The Lenten discipline is a spiritual struggle. In the confession of sins we acknowledge that we struggle and seek God’s strength. Jesus struggles with us, and so we are sustained. Help is as close as a prayer and a confession that we cannot do it on our own. God gives life and its fruit, and so all we offer in worship is giving back what was first given us by grace.

The Lenten discipline is a spiritual struggle. We begin with Ash Wednesday where we are reminded of our death and sin and as the week begins anew we hear about Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.

Lent always begins this way as if the readings are trying to discipline us into the season. We are mortal, sinners, and we are tempted they tell us.

Lent can feel like it is a real drag and the traditions that go along with this season are an equal drag. Traditionally Lent is a time of purging. We give things up for Lent; we stop eating meat and chocolate and we pack up the “A” word in a box to be opened at Easter. Our spiritual struggle takes on physical attributes.

Lent is a time of giving things up and depriving ourselves of those things we really enjoy… at least that’s what people say.

To be honest I’ve never been fond of the idea of giving something up for Lent. After the noon worship service on Wednesday I walked through the hall downstairs, ashes all over my forehead, and was bombarded by questions from some of the day care children. “Why do you have marker all over your face?” I was asked. Edwin, one of the teachers explained that I had ashes on my face, not marker. “Why do you do that? What’s Ash Wednesday?”

“It’s the first day of Lent,” I told them. “And we put ashes on our face to remind us how much we need God.”

Edwin then joked with me that he was giving up work for Lent. “Can’t do that,” I told him. “Ok,” he said, “then I’ll give up school.” (Edwin is studying to become a teacher.) “Instead of not doing something,” I suggested. “Why not do something positive and good for Lent?” He smiled and went back to playing with the kids in the hall.

The Lenten discipline is a spiritual struggle, but it has tangible consequences. It doesn’t matter if you struggle with giving something up or adding a new discipline; the practices of Lent are meant to test us until we understand that without God we can do nothing.

In our first reading this morning from Deuteronomy I am struck by the amount of times that the reader is reminded of what God has given. Six times some form of the word “give” is used in the eleven verses we read. And each time it refers to what God has given the people.

It is an interesting coincidence that this is our first reading because throughout this Lenten season we will be talking about stewardship and stewardship begins with the understanding that all we have comes from God.

The ancient people, including those Hebrews who celebrated the rituals explained in Deuteronomy, would take a portion of their first crops and sacrifice them to the gods, or in the case of the Hebrews… to God.

If you’ve ever heard the term: “First Fruits” this is where it came from. It was the practice of giving to God the first of their abundance. Even more ancient cultures would take this practice so far as to sacrifice their first born son. (Do you remember the story of Abraham almost sacrificing Isaac?)

It was an act of pure, unadulterated faith to do something like this. To sacrifice your first crop, even a portion of it meant that there was that much less for the rest of the year. What if there was a famine? What if some natural disaster took place and destroyed all the rest that they counted on?

And yet, they did it. They did it because ultimately they knew that the land they lived on had come from God. It was God’s and all they received from it was from God.

In grade school I had a teacher who told us a story about how her daughter wanted to run away from home. She told her that if she wanted to run away that she could go right ahead, but that she couldn’t take anything with her… no toys, no clothes, no nothing, because everything that her daughter had belonged to her. Yes, she had given those things to her daughter, but ultimately they belonged to her because she had been the one to go shopping and to pay for them.

Yes, those crops were the peoples’ but ultimately they belonged to God because God had been the one to give them to the people.

When we talk about stewardship, we are following the model of first fruits; understanding that all we have really ultimately belongs to God and so we give God the first of our gifts, trusting that God will provide us with all that we need.

I want to read to you again that little introduction from your bulletin:
The Lenten discipline is a spiritual struggle. In the confession of sins we acknowledge that we struggle and seek God’s strength. Jesus struggles with us, and so we are sustained. Help is as close as a prayer and a confession that we cannot do it on our own. God gives life and its fruit, and so all we offer in worship is giving back what was first given us by grace.

Stewardship is also a spiritual struggle and it’s easy to mistake stewardship as similar to the practice of giving something up for Lent. It can be a real drag when we think of it that way. But stewardship is not about giving-up something or depriving ourselves. Rather it is a struggle to understand that God has given us so much, but that ultimately it still belongs to God.

After the people sacrificed their first fruits to God they celebrated. Verse 11 says, “Then you, together with the Levites and the aliens who reside among you, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the LORD your God has given to you and to your house.”

The practice of stewardship resulted in celebration.

Lent, for as somber as it is, is not a season of mourning, but a process that takes us to a celebration of the gifts that God has given us.

All we have comes from God, all we have is God’s. As we struggle with this, may we also find reason upon reason to celebrate it.

Amen.

Ash Wednesday

A sermon based upon Matthew 6:1–6, 16–21

In the name of Jesus; amen.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

This season of Lent will be following a theme of stewardship. Now stewardship is considered the practice of caring for the gifts that God has given us. And we will be using a tagline throughout these 40 days: “Walking with Jesus.”

It sounds like a nice fit, we often refer to Lent as a journey; a journey towards the cross and Easter. And who better to walk this journey with than Jesus while we self-examine, repent, pray and fast, give sacrificially, and do works of love, the disciplines of Lent.

And there is something about this season, when we focus on the sacrifice that Jesus made, that should call us to reflect on our stewardship. Often we associate this word, stewardship, with how much money we give to the church, but I want us to reconsider that notion.

Stewardship is not just about money and good stewardship is not just about what we put in the offering plate. Stewardship is walking with Jesus in every aspect of our lives.
Ash Wednesday focuses on two things: our mortality and our sinfulness. Today is meant to take us through a process of recognizing our need for God. We are mortal, we are going to die and we are sinful by nature. There is little we can do to avoid either thing. We can eat right, exercise, be in the best of health and still we die. We can try our best to be good, to not hurt others, to follow the law and yet we are bound to sin in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone.

Sin and death are unavoidable, but God recreates our mortality into a promise of resurrection and God recreates our sinful selves into forgiven saints.

This is our treasure; this gift of forgiveness and resurrection are the vessel out of which all our blessings flow. This gift from God is our well-spring from which come all the good things we are given.

It is the gift of forgiveness and resurrection that we are called to be stewards of. We are meant to care for this gift and use it to the best of our abilities. We are meant to share it with others. We are meant to give some of it away, save some of it, and use the rest for daily living. This gift of forgiveness and resurrection is meant to be cared for wisely.

It is a gift that provides for our greatest needs and God gives it to us without a second’s hesitation. We are forgiven and we are resurrected; Jesus made this a certainty in his death on the cross.

It might sound like a strange thing. How do we become stewards of forgiveness and resurrection? How do we give it away, save it, and use it for daily life? I think we do it the same way in which we are stewards of any gift from God by trusting that we will not run out, by trusting that God will continue to provide for our needs. We do it by recognizing that forgiveness and resurrection are resources that cannot be kept in a box up on a shelf, but need to be taken out and used.

We become good stewards of this resource when we realize that God intended it for all of creation. That means that it was not just meant for you or me, but for everyone. God gave us all we need in abundance so that there would be enough for all.

You and I are sinners and we are going to die, but God gives us this grace-thing which provides for a different way of us living life. We become good stewards of all the other stuff… our time, our talents, and our treasures by first caring for the forgiveness we receive and the resurrection we are promised.

This is the first thing, this grace-thing that wipes away the ashes of sin and death and it has been given to us. It is a treasure for our hearts to store and give away.

I’m not saying it is an easy thing; in fact it isn’t easy, but this is why Jesus walks with us. It is why Jesus is a constant presence in our lives so that in the moments when we doubt or despair that there isn’t enough Jesus is there to say, “God’s grace is sufficient.”

We do not need to hoard or store up, but to live knowing that Jesus is walking with us and that every gift comes from God for a purpose.

We have been forgiven for a purpose and we have been promised a resurrection for a purpose. God has given us purposeful gifts, gifts that are necessary, and needful, gifts that are meant to be shared and used.

In these days ahead, as we walk with Jesus, may we continue to find new purpose for the gift of God’s grace.

Amen.