Sermon 12.9.07

For the season of Advent, the church has decided to do something slightly different. Instead of the sermon coming after the Gospel, we've brought the sermon to the beginning of the readings; to set them up. That way, the readings become the sermon. The texts for this past week were Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-13, and Matthew 3:1-12

Three Spirits

This morning you are going to be introduced to three spirits: A spirit from the past, a spirit of the present, and a spirit who will point us forward, towards the future. In hearing these spirits, your mind and your consciousness will be taken away from this place. This ceiling will open up to reveal the annals of time spread out before you. And there you will be placed in the annals of time along this vast tapestry that is laid out before you. Your guides will be arriving shortly; they will stand over there, and over here. They will read for you these visions and paint those pictures. But first, but first before we travel, let me lay out the terrain for you so that you can walk it carefully. After all, these spirits do not visit for just any reason. They visit to point out to you those points in the history of the world’s salvation, the history of your salvation.

So come, allow the ceiling of your mind and your heart open as the picture is painted.

In our first reading you will go back, far back in time to 700 BC, to encounter a Spirit from the past. It is the spirit of hope. In glimpsing this spirit of hope, you’ll see Isaiah, a curious prophet and advisor. He’s the first of three prophets to write under the name “Isaiah,” and has served under king after king in Judah, and none have done what they’ve promised to do. None of those kings have done what they were expected to do. Each king has somehow alienated and isolated Judah from the powerful nations that surround them, or has given Judah over to be a slave-state for more powerful kings with powerless gods. Every action by a king brings them farther and farther from God and God’s holy plan for them, and they are on the cusp of destruction.

So what does Isaiah do, spurred on by this spirit of hope? Isaiah begins to see visions. Isaiah begins to dream dreams. He dreams of things that are not yet, but can be with the power of God. He dreams of a king, a perfect king, who does not rule with a sword in one hand and a bag of gold in the other. He dreams of a king who does not bend a knee at the power of surrounding armies, but bends a knee to scoop up a poor child or a bleating lamb.

“Imagine that this place is laid desolate,” Isaiah says, “and God has cut down every king that we’ve ever known. And we are left, like the stump of a tree that was once mighty. The stump of Jesse, our great-grandfather. Even then and there, God will revive our hope. A twig will spring forth from that dead stump, a king unlike these other kings we’ve had! He won’t rule with a sword around his waist, but with righteousness! He won’t lead with ideas that will line his own pocket, but will lead with ideas that will help the poor. This king will bring peace to this land, scarred by war. Peace that is so lasting, that is so pervasive, that even the animals will feel it! Our children will not die of snake bites. Our goats will not be killed by wolves. Harmony. Equality. Wisdom. These will be the hallmarks of this king’s reign.”

The spirit of hope will lead us to this vision of Isaiah; you’ll hear it in full in a few moments. But take a moment now to ponder what this might look like in our own war scarred world, today. No longer would our children die of drugs that snakes have sold them on the streets. No longer would the animals die because their habitats are poisoned or destroyed. No longer will our leaders and leaders around the world search out tax codes, practice business ethics, and advocate for laws that line their own pockets, but will watch for the vulnerable and poor. No longer will they lobby for war after war, killing our children, wives, husbands, friends, neighbors. Peace. Harmony. Equality. Wisdom. Righteousness. These will be the marks of the land, like a new branch rising from the stump of a world that continues to poison itself.

What would this spirit of hope mean for us today? What would this spirit of hope mean for us this Christmas?

But we can’t stay here, we must move one. Enter the spirit of unity to show us a glimpse of the present. This spirit lets us take a glimpse at a letter that the apostle Paul wrote to the church in Rome. Oh, don’t write this off yet, this is a glimpse of the present. You see, this church in Rome, they were fighting amongst themselves. Some of the members were Jewish-Christians who wanted to follow the laws of the Torah to the letter. Circumcision! Dietary laws! Specific worship practices! True followers of God adhere strictly to the law and all others are outsiders!

And then there were the other members of the church, the Gentile-Christians. They didn’t know the Torah. They weren’t circumcised. Their worship practices were different then those Jerusalem reverencing Jewish-Christians. This church was ready to split down the middle!

And in enters Paul, guided by the spirit of unity. Watch him write furiously as he attempts to squelch an argument from afar. “Come now,” he instructs the church, “the Torah is written for instruction, but is primarily provided to point us to the hope that is in Christ. Therefore, do not deride each other, but welcome each other. We are all seeking the same thing: closeness to the God who shows us love in Jesus. Jesus welcomed all, Gentile and Jew, and seeks that we might be one in him. These divisions over the Torah and the law are not helpful, and distract us from our true purpose: to believe in God and act on that belief to serve one another.”

The spirit of unity will lead us to this vision from Paul’s letter, and in a few moments you’ll hear it in full. But let’s take a minute to ponder what this would mean for our own church, here. These divisions that Paul writes about are not too far off from our own divisions in the church today. Christians fighting over which parts of Scripture to follow. Who to allow in worship and to communion. Whether traditional worship is preferable to contemporary worship. These fights are found in our own church, here, as well. Perhaps we could use a personalized letter from Paul today to remind us, under the spirit of unity, that focusing on these fights will distract us from our true purpose: to love God and act on that love in service.

What would this spirit of unity mean for us today? What would this spirit of unity mean for us this Christmas?

Ah, but we can’t stay here. We must move on to the strangest of all the visions, to a glimpse of the future. Here we find the spirit of promise showing us an eccentric man. He’s barely wearing anything: just some hide and leather. He eats what he finds on the earth, mostly locust and honey. He is the spitting image of the prophet Elijah, and many people think that he might be Elijah come back from the dead. But, although he speaks like Elijah, dresses like Elijah, and eats like Elijah, he is actually John the Baptist.

We find John the Baptist at the outset of Jesus’ ministry. He is an unusual character in the story of Christ’s work. He is actually a rival of Jesus for attention; John had many followers. You can see him down there by the Jordan, by that river of life for the people in that land, and he is commanding a large and diverse audience.

“You brood of vipers!” he yells, “who warned you that God was coming? Who told you to come and repent of your Sin? I am not God, I am just a messenger of God. I baptize you with water, the lifeblood of our physical lives, but God is coming! And God will baptize you with righteousness that will come like a fire upon your spirits, and it will burn a righteous fire within you to purge Sin.”

I can tell, this vision disturbs you. So close to Christmas, where our thoughts are of a baby and silent night, the spirit of promise shows you a vision of a man yelling about repentance and fire. But this vision is brought to us to refocus us this Christmas. You see, this vision reminds us that not only did God come in the baby in a manger, but God continues to come. God will come again once and for all with the spirit of hope seen in Isaiah, with the spirit of unity heard written by Paul to the Romans, to fulfill the promise that John the Baptist reminds us of today.

God is coming. God is coming to us in ways we don’t expect: like the peaceful leader who shows mercy instead of anger; like the great unifier who throws out those things that divide us; like the little baby, born in a stable; like the green shoot the springs out of what we thought was a dead stump. God is coming this Christmas to you, and to me, to this world. And John, speaking with venom of fire, is here to remind us of this.

Ah, but we cannot stay here. We must rush back to those pews, regain our sense of where we are. But the spirit of promise has led us here for a reason, so lets consider, if only for a moment, what John the Baptist’s message might mean for us today. If we hear again that God is coming, what do we do? Do we repent, as John encourages us to do? Do we daily remind ourselves that we belong to God, and are not gods ourselves? You know, in this season of Christmas, where we can whip out a credit card and buy whatever our hearts desire. Where we can fulfill the wishes of those around us with a gift. Where we can pass by someone hungry on the street, only to walk into a Starbucks and spend $4 on a coffee, it is easy to feel like a god. And so, as we hear this strange man yelling from the river of life, as we hear this promise for the future, a future where God comes to meet us in unexpected ways with hope and unity, how do we respond?

We respond by hearing the Word of God again. We respond by reminding ourselves that we are not gods, and we repent of our selfish ways. We respond by hoping and working for peace, by working for unity, by living in the promise that God speaks to us in the Word today.

You’ve seen three glimpses today of the past, present, and the future. You’ve been led by the spirit of hope that you’ll hear in Isaiah, the spirit of unity that you’ll hear in Romans, and the spirit of promise that you’ll hear in Matthew.

Hear these words in a new way this Christmas season: the hope, unity, and promise of a God who continues to come and will come again. And then, go, and live in that hope, in that unity, in that promise.

Amen.

What is Truth?

I dove into the Gospel of John today. Well, I'll be more honest, I was pushed into the Gospel of John today. During this time of waiting, of anticipation, of longing, I expected to read excerpts from Isaiah, Matthew, Mark, or Luke. That's what I expected. But I should have known that, while Advent is a time of waiting, anticipation, and longing, it is most assuredly a time of surprises.

And so, John was the Gospel read from today.

More specifically, John 18, the story of Jesus' trial before Pilate. This is a funny text to read in the dawn of Advent because its almost like fast-forwarding the movie during the opening credits to the climactic push leading to the story's hinge. But, on the flip side, this is Jesus' soliloquy about his king-dom being of another kingdom. And, so, I guess on this cold Advent day it is fitting, albeit funny, to read of Jesus' own struggle with kingship even as we wait again for God to formally reclaim this kingdom here.

This passage left me at a place of unease. I have read this John passage every year on Good Friday (so have you, you just may not realize it), and my reading for today ended at verse 37 with Jesus saying, "I have come to testify to the truth."

And that's where it ended. Silence.

In my mind I heard the echo of Pilate's wonderful response, a response that I would ask, "What is truth?" But there was no satisfying question to Jesus' statement in today's reading. Yet, the question was asked in my mind as I read through it. It was an immediate reaction.

So, here at Advent, I'll echo Pilate in response to the waiting period that we now are in. What is truth? Are we waiting and waiting for a king that will never come? Or are our wick trimming and candle keeping actions for a reason.

I think the truth is that wick trimming and candle burning are reason enough on their own, as we must have light in this world until the Light returns. And the light will return, in one way or another, that is promised.

And so, we wait and we struggle with what it means to be citizens of a kingdom that is not yet realized. We struggle with Jesus in John 18, even as we wait for the Advent now.

Let us cut our quick and light our sparks. The truth is, God is coming again in one way or another, and although we struggle with it, we do not struggle alone-Christ struggles with us.

See you in church,
VT...

On End Times and Verbs for God

As we come to the end of the church year our thoughts turn to the end of time. Why? Because the natural cycle of things demands that we do. All created things have an end.

And so, now, as our thoughts turn to the end time, so do our verbs for God. Specifically, we make the decision as to whether God at the end times is Savior or Destroyer. Is God the willing participant in the end of times, or the saving grace found when time ends.

I choose the latter.

I choose the latter in the face of those who pray for the end. I choose the latter in the face of those who claim the "reckoning" to be coming, who claim the destruction of the world is God's plan.

"Fools," I say. "Have you not seen? Have you not heard? Remember the angels, the first time God came. Not with cries or shouts of death, but with the cries of a baby, the cry of life."

But, its not always easy to call God Savior. It's not always easy to see life in this world.

Walter Brueggemann speaks to this in his prayer "You are known in hiddenness." It reads:

God hidden from us in your myriad verbs,
we confess you where we do not see you:
in healings,
in emancipations,
in feedings,
in forgiveness,
in many ways of newness.
We do not see you, but we dare to name you
by our best names-
we name you father and mother,
we make you lord and saviour,
we praise you giver and lover.
In our daring naming of you and in our very glimpsing,
we know you are beyond us
unutterable,
hidden,
refusing all our manufactured labels.
You are known in hiddenness,
powerful in suffering,
whole in woundedness
and we are yours...all of us...gladly. Amen.

See you in church,
VT...

On Visions of Light, Prayer, and Song

My faith looks up to thee
Thou Lamb of Calvary,
Savior divine!
Now hear me while I pray,
Take all my guilt away,
O let me from this day
Be wholly thine!

So went my prayer today. I had read about St. Ignatius having strange and amazing visions from meditating on the phrase: "I am a sinner...I am a sinner..." Far from being a kick to the ground, somehow this phrase became a comfort for me. It first exposes the truth: I am a sinner. It then exposes the hope: In prayer comes that confession, and thus, that absolution. This led to the next wonderful verse.

May thy rich grace impart
Strength to my fainting heart,
My zeal inspire;
As thou has died for me,
O may my love to thee
Pure, warm, and changeless be,
A living fire!

A living fire. As I sat in contemplation I envisioned my form falling under a light intense and bright. My form remained, by the "accidents" were changed. And then, beams from my fingers, as small beacons of light for some wayward ship somewhere. I had become a flame-head, one of those Pentecost survivors. It may sound strange, but this was the vision.

While life's dark maze I tread,
And griefs around me spread,
Be thou my guide;
Bid darkness turn to day,
Wipe sorrow's tears away,
Nor let me ever stray
From thee aside.

And the vision was through, but somehow it lingered in the air. I felt re-energized after a day that was quite taxing. It was as if my guide was made apparent in that beaming light. Christ himself, taken away those things that had weighed me down, that Sin that I confessed to holding onto. No longer was the day weighty, but now was wait-y. That is, I was waiting for the next event. No longer with dread, but with anticipation. No longer with a heavy heart, but now with a heart of joy, with a heart that longed to be plucked again.

When ends life's transient dream,
When death's cold, sullen stream
Shall o'er me roll;
Blest Savior, then, in love,
Fear and distrust remove;
O bear me safe above,
A ransomed soul! Amen.

My new prayer: that when I fall asleep for the last time on this earth, a surprise like the one I experienced today be waiting for me behind those eye-lids. A surprise of life, re-energizing grace, and beacons of light to take this wayward ship home.

Amen.

See you in church,
VT...

The hymn verses from "My Faith Looks Up to Thee" by Raymond Palmer

On the Mass and Sweet Communion...

It was mostly empty when I walked in. And, truth to say, it was mostly empty (as far as people go) when I walked out. But it was full of other things, despite the empty air. It was full of peace and love.

"Welcome! Welcome!" She was almost yelling at me. Dorothy was obviously late in her years of life, and her hearing was slowly slipping. But she was the first to greet me so enthusiastically in a long time at church. It was a Wednesday morning, and I had decided to walk down to the small Episcopal church down the street for Wednesday morning Mass.

"Welcome! Welcome!"

And the Mass began. There were nine of us there, including the pastor. But church happened. It was all spoken, but our hearts sang. It was mostly quiet, but the room was filled with the sound of rushing air, the Spirit of God hovering over those baptismal waters.

A bold word was spoken by the elderly priest. "One day this congregation is going to wake up!" he said. "One day we will be the missionaries that God intends of us, to have others know that God loves them. They can hear that here. They will hear that here!" he prophesied. And I believe him. The people believed him, and took it upon their brow, their arms, their hands...they held that Word, the law and gospel rightly intermixed. They prayed it and played with it.

And we ate. A small round of bread. A small dunk of wine. A small sacrifice for a small congregation. But a large sacrifice for the large Church universal.

And we ate again, afterward. The other members there shuffled me and my friend into the fellowship hall. The table there was set. Real china coffee mugs. Piping hot coffee cake laid out on the table. They handed me the knife, invited me to dive in and divide the cake for everyone assembled. And I took the honor and did so, knowing that it was a mark of hospitality to invite the guest to carve the main course.

And the fellowship made a continuous movement, from the sanctuary to the hall. The conversation continued from the Mass to the small breakfast, and the Spirit followed right along with us. Or was it leading us?

I suspect it was leading us.

See you in church,
VT...

Sermon: All Saints Sunday

Luke 6:20-31

²⁰Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
"Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
²¹"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
²²Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. ²³Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
²⁴"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
²⁵"Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
²⁶Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.
²⁷But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, ²⁸bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ²⁹If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. ³⁰Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. ³¹Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Blessed

I held my nephew in my arms as he pointed to the end of the aisle. He wanted to go see great-grandma again.

So we walked up the aisle, him being four and me being twenty-four, and we leaned over the casket.

“Is that great-grandma?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said as I nodded.

“Can I touch her?” he asked.

“Sure. With one finger.” I said.

And so I leaned over so that my nephew, my four year old nephew, could begin to learn about the cycles of life.

He gently touched her hand. Then he looked up at me with big brown eyes and asked again, “Is that great-grandma?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Mama said grandma is in heaven,” he said.

“Yes,” and I nodded again.

Then he looked back at me with those eyes and asked, “Then, is this heaven?”

And I hugged him close and whispered, “Not yet. Not yet.”

Not yet.

All Saints Day reminds us that this world is not heaven. Not yet.

All Saints Day is twenty-four hours of emotion. Strong emotion. And if its not twenty-four hours of emotion for you today, it will be one day because, well, we will all one day celebrate a saint’s life on All Saints.

And it’s such a mixed bag! At one time we give thanks for a person’s life, for their example, for their joys, and even for those small habits of theirs that become endearing over time.

And at the same time, we wish there was no All Saints Day at all. We wish there was no need for an All Saints Day because here, on this day, we are reminded that we live in an imperfect world. A world that, while good and vibrant and full of life, still experiences pain. Still experiences death.

And that is not surprise to us. All things have cycles; our life revolves around the seasons. Even the Christian life, the Christian calendar revolves around seasons. In four short weeks we will be in Advent, the beginning of the Christian calendar. Which means that here, now, we are in the twilight of our season, celebrating All Saints Day.

And even though it is no surprise to us that life has seasons, that we, as part of the created order still experience those seasons, including death, we long for that day when there will be no need for All Saints Day. We long for that day when we won’t commemorate those who have gone before us because, well, they’ll be right next to us. They’ll be with us. Or, rather, we’ll be with them, along with the whole of creation in that new Zion, that new holy place of God’s being.

And we wait fervently for that day. We cry out for that day. We shout out for that day. And we catch a glimpse of that day and the promises it holds in today’s gospel.

In today’s gospel, known as Jesus’ “Sermon on the Plain” because he is standing on a plain in Luke when giving it, we hear once again that we are a blessed creation.

Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.

"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.

All of those “you” statements are plural. Jesus is blessing us as a group, as a creation, and giving us promises of life. This poverty that many feel will not be forever. This hunger will not always afflict our bellies. Our eyes will not always flow with tears. The season will change, God has promised that.

It is a promise that is both for the here, and also for the not yet. In the here and now, today, we are to give to the poor, feed the hungry, and wipe the tears of those in pain. In doing so we bless those we comfort, we fulfill that prophecy for today. And likewise, there will be a time when we are in need, when we are hungry, when our tears need to be wiped away and someone, through the grace and love of God, will fulfill that prophecy for us.

And this is what that final piece of this verse is referring to. The “golden rule,” as it has come to be known. It is that piece that encourages us to feed the hungry, give to the poor, and provide for the sad and the weary because there will be a day when we are in their place and will long for food, comfort, and gifts of grace.

But these blessings, these words from Jesus also contain a promise for the not yet, for the tomorrow of creation. God has blessed us through the promise that, when the creation’s tears are no longer consolable, when we have run our course, when we are the saints for whom others celebrate this day for, there is a surprise yet to come.

Even then, even in death, even in that place where darkness seems to have the final say, God promises to feed us, provide for our needs, cause us to laugh, to sing, to dance, to praise, to love. Our cheeks will never again have to turn; our eyes will never well up for feelings of loss. We’ll not have enemies; we’ll not fear others from stealing our possessions because God will be all we have, and all we need.

That day, even that day, contains the promise of life, contains the blessings that we hear today.

And ultimately, we follow the “golden rule,” not simply because we want others’ help on that day when we are hungry, or poor, or weary and crying. But because it is the way that God deals with us. This God, whose love is so radical as to come and stand with us, to come and experience the darkness of death with us, is one that promises us life even as Jesus was resurrected.

This God is the same one who blesses us with the kingdom, with heavenly food, with grace-filled laughter, even as Jesus burst from that tomb to expose death for what it is: an empty hole that only holds some rags and a few angels who tell us the good news once again. Death, like that tomb, is empty.

Death causes us to cry. Yes. It causes us to tear our clothes, yell at God for forsaking us as we bring oils, and flowers, and heavy hearts to those tombs that still dot our lives. Yes. But the blessing still stands, and death is ultimately the bed clothes of old lying in an empty tomb where the gardener tends the living flowers outside because there is no one inside.

Here, on All Saints Day, we give thanks for those loved ones, those ones we have held close, those ones we continue to hold close. We give thanks for their example. We give thanks for their mission. We give thanks for their love.

But more than that, we give thanks to the God who promises that there are surprises still to be had, blessings still to be given; both here in the today and in the tomorrow. God has promised throughout time and space to never abandon us, even in the darkest hour. God has promised that all tombs will one day be empty, and we will stand face to face with each other and our God who keeps true to the blessings given. Who keeps true to the promises given.

This world is not heaven. Not yet. And All Saints Day is a mixed bag, yes. But God has promised that this mixed bag we experience now will be only one thing eventually: everlasting life.

Amen.

Sermon: Reformation Sunday

This sermon is read between two people: one in front of the congregation and one hidden.

10.28.07

John 8:31-36

³¹Then Jesus said to the Judeans who had believed in him, "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; ³²and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." ³³They answered him, "We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, 'You will be made free'?"
³⁴Jesus answered them, "Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. ³⁵The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever. ³⁶So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.

Good News: God in Jesus makes us free

The Reformation Dance

Voice: Here we go; another Reformation sermon…

VT: Papal bulls, indulgences, and transubstantiation

Speak your mind against them and face excommunication

Nail your thesis to the door, lets have a Reformation!

Papal bulls, indulgences, and transubstantiation!

Voice: Ugh. I don’t like that song….

VT: Pretty great song, isn’t it? Its for laughs of course, most of those lyrics don’t apply anymore.

Voice: None of them do…

VT: But don’t forget why we’re here today. We’re here to celebrate the Reformation, an event that took place more than 500 years ago. It’s like a drop in the water that ripples out to today. Today, we still feel the effects of the Reformation.

Voice: Ok, I’ve got to cut in here…Hello? Is anyone listening?

VT: Hello? God, is that you?

Voice: Not what you were expecting?

VT: Well…

Voice: Never mind, I am who I am. What was that stuff about the Reformation that you were saying? I was there, remember.

VT: Oh yeah. Well, I was just saying that we’re here today to celebrate the Reformation, an event that, like a drop in a pool of water, has ripples that continue to affect us…

Voice: Very dramatic. Seriously, though, the Reformation was not just an event, it is an ongoing process. It would be wrong to say that you just celebrate the Reformation; it would be better to say that you celebrate Reformation, the continual reforming of the church into the people of God.

VT: But we must not forget the past! Remember what Jesus said in today’s Gospel. He tells the Judeans that God has freed them, and they say, “We’ve never been slaves to anyone.” But they had. They had forgotten their past. God freed them from slavery in Egypt…

Voice: It is true. We must never forget the past, and those hearers of my word back then had forgotten their heritage. But freedom doesn’t come in remembering the promises of the past, God’s freedom comes in hearing the promises for the future.

VT: Yes, the promise for the future. The truth! And the truth is that Luther had it right…

Voice: Nice try. There you are again, living in the past. The truth is that the word of God frees people from having to have it right. The word of God, the promise of God, is that you are loved because you are Gods, not because you have it right, or of what you do.

VT: Ah, exactly. That’s why Luther was so mad when people thought they had to give money to buy salvation.

Voice: Right. He was mad because salvation is not something you can buy; it’s something that only God can give. Something God did give in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

VT: So, why do we celebrate the Reformation, then, if it’s something that happened in the past.

Voice: Because the promise still stands and God continues to speak. The truth is, the freeing truth is, that God loves you and will stop at nothing to show you that. Throughout time, throughout space, you are continually being called to stay true to that love and accept it for what it is: a free gift from God. The Word continues to call you to that truth.

VT: The Word of Scripture, and the Word that we see in the person of Jesus.

Voice: Yes, especially in Jesus. Jesus is the Word made flesh; is truth, is light, is salvation. Read those words found in John again.

VT: If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; ³²and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.

Voice: Yes, that is the truth of the Reformation, that event back in 1517, and more importantly is the truth of the re-forming that continues to happen today. The church must live in the Word, God’s grace seen through Jesus.

VT: Because God’s grace is truly freeing. We fill our lives with things that we think will be allow us freedom: money, power, addictions, control, guilt. But God’s love, the selfless love found in Jesus is truly freeing. But how?

Voice: Because, in God’s love we learn that money, power, addictions, control, and guilt are only useful if the world is running the show. But God’s in control, not the world. That’s why the people of God are free to love everyone, because there is no need to put others down to get ahead. That’s why the people of God are free to give of their time, money, and resources, because we don’t need to stockpile and be greedy. Greed only weighs people down. That’s why God’s people don’t need to seek out power and control over other people because they know that God desires that people be free to love and serve each other.

VT: And the Reformation should continually remind us that we need to guard against falling into the traps of power, greed, and control.

Voice: Yes. God frees people, and the church, from having to have those things. Those things are Sin at work in the world, and God has freed people from Sin.

VT: The Reformation is not so much an event to be celebrated, although it was an event and we do give thanks for it. But it is more a process to be reviewed and renewed. A promise to re-form ourselves around the Word of God alone, the Grace of God alone, and Faith in God alone.

Voice: I’m glad that I could have this conversation with you all.

VT: Yeah, thanks for the interruption.

Voice: That’s what I do best: interrupt lives to give love. You might say that I re-form your lives into my love.

VT: Amen.

On Humility and Statue Carving

Humility is on the docket today. But first, a quote.

"When I carve a statue, it is very simple. I merely cut away the pieces that don't belong there and the statue itself presently comes into view. It was there all the time." -Gutzom Borglum

This is humility. The statue was not created, it was simply unearthed. I like that imagery, and I like that train of thought. It lets me off the hook, at least partially. Nothing I will do will be totally original, for the design has existed from long before my time.

This is not predestination, mind you. This is re-destination. The returning to where you began. In all things I will simply return to where I began: in the hands of a God who continues to hold me, even as I unearth those things in me, in others, in this world that were always there all along. And as long as I'm in those hands, the credit is not mine. It is ours: God's, mine, and the statue's.

I like things in threes.

See you in church, you humble created creators,
VT...

Though Fires Rage...

Southern California is a mess. I see it on the news. I see it on satellite imaging. I see it on the faces of people who are displaced. Tragic doesn't begin to describe it as people are once again huddled into a stadium. They lately seem to be used more for temporary housing then for sporting events.

What are we to make of this fire? What are we to say to those who lose everything when this sign of progress, this sign of human achievement, becomes a sign of human despair? We were promised never to be destroyed again by water. That much we know. But what about fire? What about those other elements. What about those things that come from our own hand. Will they destroy us?

Even here there is hope. We run to God, as the Psalmist writes in 46. Fire can't destroy those walls. But what about the meantime? It's in the meantime we live. It's in the meantime we pray that, though the earth give way and mountains fall into the sea, we will not fear because there is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.

I leave you with a word from our brother Peterson:

Huge cloud fists assault
The blue exposed bare midriff of sky:
The firmament doubles up in pain.
Lightnings rip and thunders shout;
Mother nature's children quarrel.
And then, as suddenly as it began,
It's over. Noah's heirs, perceptions
Cleansed, look out on the disarmed world
At ease and ozone fragrant. Still waters.
What barometric shift
Rearranged these ferocities
Into a peace-pulsating rainbow
Sign? My enemy turns his other
Cheek; I drop my guard. A mirror
Lake reflects the filtered colors;
Breeze-stirred pine trees quietly sing.

See you in church,
VT...

Sermon: Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost

October 21, 2007

Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 18: 1-8

The Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’ For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’” And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them, and yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

Good News: God desires to be in relationship with us

Take Time to Hear God Sneeze

It was still. Very very still. The only sound that I could hear was the continuous trickle of the baptismal font the kept flowing into the pool of water below. The floor was stone. The windows were high. And yet, it wasn’t cold. It was comforting, comfortable. And there I sat, simply being in the Presence. Simply being with God. My mind wandered from thing to thing as I sat. Sometimes I closed my eyes. Sometimes I kept them open. I could see no one else as I sat there, in the dark of that sanctuary, and just listened to my heartbeat. Listened to God, enjoying the relationship that comes with having a God who desires to be personal.

And then I heard a sneeze.

It startled me from my meditation and I looked around. I couldn’t see anyone. It was dark. I couldn’t hear anyone either; not a sound. And for a moment, for a split second, I thought to myself, “Perhaps God has a cold.”

Of course not.

But being in the Presence there, not seeing or hearing anything but that sneeze, I slightly wondered.

Today we have a parable about coming to God and being in the Presence. Jesus encourages his disciples to come to God in prayer often and without getting discouraged. In many of the parables found in Luke, one person is supposed to be us, and the other person is supposed to be God. But this one is different. You see, this judge is not supposed to be seen as God.

In this parable, this judge is the opposite of God.

How do we know? Look back again at those first few lines. Go ahead, turn back. Jesus says, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people.”

“Neither feared God nor had respect for people.”

This is not God; this is the anti-god. God has respect for creation. God has so much respect for creation, that God came down in the person of Jesus to stand with creation against evil and sin, to obliterate and save God’s people as was promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This judge who somehow, probably by deceit, became the judge of people without respecting them, is not to be seen as God.

Another way we know that this judge is not God is because this judge is egotistical. Look at his reason for granting the widow’s pleas. It is not because he actually wants to help the widow; it is because he wants to get the woman off his back, to get her to leave him alone. His actions are for his own well-being, not hers.

No, this judge is not supposed to be God and we should not make the mistake of seeing him as God.

So what does this parable say, then, about God and specifically with respect to prayer?

This parable tells us that God is everything this judge is not. See, Jesus is setting up the anti-model. He is saying that, if this judge who cares nothing for others and who is totally consumed with himself will grant this woman’s request, how much more then will God, who is totally consumed with creation and salvation listen to the requests of the ones God loves? Especially the requests for justice in this world toward the disenfranchised of God’s people.

And so we pray as Jesus instructs us, not because if we badger God enough God will listen, but because God wants to listen to us! God desires to be with us, to be near us, to be in relationship with us, and that happens through prayer.

And so, the question is now not, “Will God listen?” Jesus already answered that. The question is now, “Will we pray?”

Will we pray? Will you pray? When the Son of Man comes, will he find people in faithful prayer?

Carlo Carretto, an author and brother in the Catholic Order of the Little Brothers of Jesus wrote a fantastic book on prayer and the need for prayer in the late 70’s. The title of the book is The God Who Comes, and in it he writes about his own struggles with prayer. His struggles are not so much in finding time to pray himself, but in finding ways to convince others, even his Catholic brothers and sisters, to find time to pray.

On one side of the aisle he finds people who don’t believe that God listens because they don’t see their requests come to pass. I would say these people expect God to be an ATM machine, conveniently dispensing requests each time we go to God in prayer.

On the other side of the aisle he finds people who don’t have time to pray because they are too busy doing work in the world, even good work in the world to help humanity. They see God in the face of others, and therefore spend all their time helping others, and no time praying.

So why pray? Why pray when it seems sometimes that God is not listening? Why pray when it seems that there is too much work to do in this world, too much help to give, and prayer is time spent sitting when we can be doing?

Why pray?

We pray, as Carlo points out, because we have a personal God who desires to be in relationship with us. If we don’t pray we are not searching for that personal relationship with God. If we don’t stay with long hours in order to know God, to talk to God, to study with God and understand God then, little by little, we start to forget God. Our memory of God weakens and we no longer will recognize God in the day to day, hour to hour life that we lead.

Carlo uses this analogy: “A person calls their spouse to tell them, “I’m sorry, this evening I’ll be coming home late because I’ve got so much work!” There is nothing wrong with this. But if it is the thousandth time that this same call is made, and they have not seen each other in weeks on excuse of work, or busyness, or frustration, then it is more serious because it becomes more and more clear that, if they love each other, they are not acting on it.

If they love each other, they are not acting on it.

God loves you, and we see that so clearly through Jesus. God loves us enough to come to be with us, to promise to always be with us. We have a God who desires to act on that love, to meet you in conversation, to hear about your struggles, your hopes, your fears, your desires. We have a God who longs to speak to you about these things, speaking through the Word, through the sacraments, through the voice of other people.

And we, as people who love God, must tap into that relationship intentionally. Because God desires to be with us, God gives us the permission to call upon God with our thoughts and concerns. And God does not have an answering machine, but listens in the real time.

But what about those excuses? What if we tire from prayer because it seems like it gets us no where? To that I would ask, “ What are you expecting?” Are you expecting a relationship with God, or expecting God to do what you ask? If we expect God to simply do what we ask we become the judge in today’s parable, egocentric. Relationships involve give and take, work and effort.

And what about the other excuse? That there is too much to do in this world to take time for prayer? To that I would ask, how long do you think you can keep doing good works without plugging into the force that drives our good deeds? We cannot keep doing the good work of this world without knowing why we do it. We do it because God has given us love and asked us to extend that love to others. If we lose touch with that loving relationship, it will be hard to do that loving work for others.

God loves you and desires to be in relationship with you. Prayer is a way to center yourself around that love, around that relationship; to let it flow in you, through you, into your thoughts, words, and deeds. And pray without ceasing because God is working in this world to bring justice and peace. Perhaps, through prayer, we can better see how God can use us to be the answer to that prayer.

So, as we have a God who desires to be with us, who came in the form of Jesus to demonstrate the desire, I encourage you to go this week and pray without ceasing. It will change your days. Perhaps, just perhaps, you will hear God sneeze. Perhaps you will hear more. Amen.

Sermon: Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost

October 14, 2007

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 17:11-19

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."

Good News: Jesus restores us to the community

Tandem Stories

There were ten lepers living in the town. Nine were Jewish. One was a Samaritan.

There were ten lepers living in the town. Nine were Jewish, one was a Samaritan, and everywhere they went they would have to yell, “Unclean! Unclean!” They would yell “unclean” to warn those around them. They would yell, “unclean” to allow people time to move out of there way. No one could touch them, according to Jewish law, because their skin was infected.

Infected with what, you ask? We don’t know. Leprosy is a horrible disease in its own right, but when the term “leper” is used in Scripture, it is not just referring to leprosy. It is referring to a wide range of skin diseases and, back at that time, one skin disease was suspected as being as harmful as the rest.

And so there were ten lepers living in that town, nine were Jewish, one was a Samaritan, and they yelled “Unclean!” because, all things being equal, they were unclean to the population that surrounded them.

But when they saw Jesus. But when they saw Jesus they didn’t yell, “Unclean!” I wonder why. Why did they not yell unclean, why did they not warn Jesus of their disease?

We don’t know. What we do know is that, instead of yelling, “Unclean!” they yelled, “Mercy!”

Mercy.

Michelle was a woman who lived in town. I can’t say that Michelle was a friend; I didn’t really know her that well. But I can say that we all knew Michelle, and the majority of people felt that Michelle was unclean.

Michelle had been kicked out of the community that she had been with. She had been kicked out because they found out about her. They found out about her life, what she did, who she really was.

They found out the Michelle had at one time been someone else, and the change was visible. She didn’t look the same. She didn’t talk the same. She didn’t walk the same. And all of these visible signs let everyone know that she was different. All of these visible signs let everyone know that Michelle was, well, in the eyes of many, “unclean.”

But she showed up at church one day. She showed up at church one day seeking mercy. She showed up at church one day seeking the body of Christ, to taste it, hold it, to be held by it, by the hands of the people gathered there.

What would they do?

Ten lepers lived in that town, nine of them Jewish, one a Samaritan. They called out “Mercy” to the body of Christ, the physical body of Jesus standing before them.

And Jesus shows mercy. Jesus tells them to show themselves to the priests, and as they went to do so, they were healed. Healed from their leprosy. Healed from the judgments of others. Healed from those marks that were a signal to everyone that they were unclean. And once they showed themselves to the priests, they would be labeled clean again. They would be able to enter back into society. They would be able to resume their lives in their community once again.

All except one.

You see, the nine Jewish lepers would reenter society. They would be accepted back once they showed themselves to the priest. They would be labeled as clean again.

But not the Samaritan. It would do no good for the Samaritan to go the priest because the priest would not label him clean. He was a Samaritan. He was unclean to them by his very nature, it didn’t matter how spotless his skin was.

Michelle showed up at church that day. She showed up seeking mercy. But she was not spotless in the eyes of the church people there. And they shunned her, telling her that no matter how many times she returned, they would not accept her. They actually told her this.

So she walked down the street to another church. And I saw her walk in. I saw her take a seat at the back.

As Jesus was standing there on the road, the Samaritan came back. He came back because it didn’t matter if he showed himself to the priest. That priest would not label him clean. He had to show himself to the Great High Priest, to Jesus. Jesus, who could heal his leprosy, was also the only one who could heal the division that was erected between people.

Did Jesus say it was bad he was a Samaritan and heal him from that? No. That would be ridiculous. The sin was not that he was a Samaritan, the sin was the wall, the division, the anger, jealousy, and racism that existed between the Jewish people and the Samaritans. And so he comes back, praising God for healing his leprosy, and he receives something else as well.

Jesus breaks down the wall of racism between the communities. How? He talks to him. He speaks to him, sets him up as an example, an example of faithfulness for the Jewish people that had gathered around him, those disciples, and tells him the truth “He is well.”

He is well in the eyes of God, and therefore should be well in the eyes of those around him. Jesus restores him in front of the community, engages him as an example of faith.

Jesus broke down the wall between those communities.

Michelle came in and sat at the back. I watched her sit down. You could tell there was a difference in her; she was not the same as those sitting around me. Even my young eyes could tell.

But I saw her sing with vigor the hymns that day. I saw her smile during the children’s choir. I saw her cry during the prayers. And I saw her shake hands with the people around her at the peace. And they shook hands. And they shook hands. People were delighted to see her. She had come to give thanks to God, and so it did not matter in that place that she looked different, or acted different, walked and talked different. She had come to see the Great High Priest, to hear again how God has restored humanity, cured our sin and our diseases, and so she was welcome. She was an example of faithfulness.

And there, in the midst of the body of Christ that day, I saw a barrier come crumbling down. Not everyone was comfortable with Michelle being there. She did walk differently. She did talk differently. But the fact that the Great High Priest was the one she came to praise was good enough for them, and the road to changing hearts and minds was opened that day.

You see, there are communities still today that society sees as “unclean.” There are people still today that have been rejected by people, even Christian people, for who they are, what they look like, the way they act, and the way the dress. They come to the body of Christ seeking what we all seek: mercy, healing, and wholeness.

And God provides it. God provides it at this table. God provides it in this water. God provides it through the Word. And we come to hear it once again and give thanks. And as we come to hear it, to give thanks, we must be mindful that communities exist out there who are our neighbors, our brothers and sisters, our friends, that need to be included in this healing and wholeness because God in Jesus has told us that those walls that we erect to separate ourselves are not godly walls, they are walls of sinfulness.

When I talked to Michelle about her story, she told me of her faith and her love for God, and how she sought a community that would allow her to be part of it. She found it in the body of Christ that said to her, as Christ says to the lepers, “God loves you. You have come here in faith to give thanks to God for that love. Your faith has made you well.”

Ten lepers lived in that town, nine were Jewish, one was a Samaritan. And Christ broke down those barriers that lay between them, healing them not only of their leprosy, but also of their judgments. And God sets us free from our barriers and judgments as well. Let us go, now, and be that restorative body of Christ, as we have been restored. Amen.

On Proud Princes

The feast of St. Francis. This is an unusual time in the life of the church, the Feast of St. Francis. At my home congregation, animals were brought in to worship with us on this feast day. A parrot alongside a cat. A gerbil alongside a fish. And dog, after dog, after dog. The dogs sometimes joined in on the hymns. That was nice and noisy.


I like the Feast of St. Francis because it reminds us that we are not alone in this world. And that we are not the creators of this world. Luther was very mindful of this. In preaching on the first article of the Apostle's Creed, he writes:

"Everything that exists is comprehended in that little word "creator." Therefore, everything you have, however small it may be, remember this when you say "creator," even if you set great store by it. Do not let us think that we have created ourselves, as the proud princes do."

It is good to remember our limitedness, if only to enable us to seek the vastness of God. That vastness is seen in creation and it's wild diversity; its ever-changing diversity. God, our creator, continues to create. Thank you, St. Francis, for reminding us.

Our pet blessing is this Sunday at 2:00 on the east side of the church. Bring animals great and small, giving thanks for God's creations.

See you in church,
VT...

Sermon excerpt can be found in "Ten Sermons on the Catechism" (1528) Luther's Works 51, 162-163.

Sermon: Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost

October 7, 2007
19^th Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 17:5-10

⁵The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!" ⁶The Lord replied, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.
⁷Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'? ⁸Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? ⁹Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? ¹⁰So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'"

Tossing Mulberry Trees

Part of my family have traced themselves back to Scotland. This brought me much amusement when I was younger, because I’d seen the movies “Braveheart” and “Rob Roy” and believed that in some way I was watching some of my great ancestors on screen. And early on I became fascinated by Scottish Highland games where men and women (yes, women played too) with arms the size of tree trunks would perform these feats of strength and skill.

The hammer throw, the stone toss (which is akin to the shot put of today), and especially the caber toss. The caber toss was my favorite to watch. These burly Scotts would pick up a huge tree at its base, run, and toss it out into the open air where it would fly end-over-end. The point is to have your caber do a 360 degree revolution, and land facing away from you as if pointing to 12 as the hand of some great and giant clock.

It’s a fascinating game. And I always wanted to caber toss, but didn’t think I could ever do it. My legs aren’t that big, my arms aren’t that big, and my Scottish accent makes a mockery of the language. I can’t do it.

When I read today’s gospel message, it reminded me of the caber toss. Jesus says to his disciples that faith the size of a mustard seed can cause a Mulberry tree to be uprooted and planted in the sea. Immediately I thought of the caber toss, this burly Scott grabbing the Mulberry Tree and hurdling it end-over-end into the sea of Galilee, disrupting some unsuspecting fish as it lands upright, roots sinking deep into the sand.

But then I read the verse again. And I realized that Jesus never mentioned the faithful person touching the tree. Jesus only mentioned the faithful person speaking to the tree. At the sound of the faithful’s voice, that tree would uproot itself and plant itself in the sea. That sounds even more impossible than caber tossing. Not only are the arms and the legs not strong enough for this feat, but the voice is lacking as well. No one’s voice can make such a thing happen. No ones except God’s. We look at this text and we say, “Speak to the tree and make it move? We can’t”

But perhaps we need to approach this gospel text from another angle. Perhaps we need to approach this gospel text not from the angle of “we can’t,” but from the angle of “we haven’t.”

This gospel text comes on the heels of some very harsh words from Jesus to the disciples. Before this text, what we didn’t read, Jesus warns the disciples of not leading young people of the faith astray. If they do that, it would be better to throw them into the sea with a concrete block around their neck. At hearing this, the disciples immediately cry out, “Increase our faith!”

“Increase our faith.” Why? The implication is that a small faith will lead others astray. A small faith will not profess God correctly, a small faith will not spread the Good News effectively. The implication is that the disciples believe their faith is too small, too inadequate, too little for them to even begin to utter a word to anyone, and so, before they are going to start telling people about God, before they are going to start feeding the poor in the expectation that hunger will be no more, before they are going to start throwing down idols and power structures in the hopes that God’s reign will be recognized, they need more faith.

They believe that the size of their faith correlates to their effectiveness and Jesus tells them it just ain’t so.

“Faith?” Jesus says. “Faith? Faith of the smallest measure can just speak things into happening. Impossible things. It’s not faith you need, it’s fidelity. It’s faithfulness, that is, faith put into action.”

And then Jesus tells them a story. In that story he in effect says, “Faithfulness is what you need. Faithfulness is not found in the master lording over a servant, being in control of everything. Faithfulness is found in a servant doing the work expected of them. And at the end of the day, do they expect to be the master? No, they simply expect that they have done what they were asked to do. This is what faithfulness is, do what is expected of you.”

You see, the disciples wanted control. They wanted to be in the driver’s seat. They wanted to make sure that, before they acted they would know the outcome, and so they say, “Increase our faith!” Increase our faith to the point that we would be in control, that we would know what was going to happen.

That kind of thinking works in economic policy. That kind of thinking works in the financial world. But in the world of the church, in the world of faithfulness, that kind of thinking only causes inaction.

If the disciples had waited until all their ducks were in a row, until they felt they had “faith enough” to succeed at their mission, we might all be somewhere else today reading a different scripture.

You see, the good news is that it’s not the size of the faith that makes things possible, but the size of the God behind the faith that makes things possible. The disciples needed to act on the faith of God, not on their faith in God. This God, who speaks things into being, who speaks the impossible, who asks us to love our God and love our neighbors as ourselves, to love justice, show mercy, and walk humbly with God. This God who’s love is big enough to give to everyone, who’s faith is big enough cause trees to move, to cause cosmos to swirl, to cause babies to be encircled in the waters of baptism as a sign of love, this is the God we serve.

And we are to go and act in faithfulness, in service to this God, not because we think that we will somehow be greater because of it, but because God and God’s purpose for humanity is greater to begin with. That is why we faithfully feed those who are hungry because we know God can take hunger, that mulberry tree of hunger, and drown it in the waters of baptism through that faithfulness. That is why we faithfully clothe the naked because we know that God can take poverty, that mulberry tree of poverty, and drown it in the waters of baptism and raise people to new life through that faithfulness.

So how are we, at Edgebrook Lutheran Church in the fall of 2007 going to act in faithfulness? Must we wait until we have the budget to ensure all our ministries and projects? Must we wait until

You know, I was in a wedding a few years ago as a groomsman. The groom gave us all a gift, this small paper-weight etched here. The words on it say, “What would you do if you knew you could not fail.” I like this saying, it’s both challenging and affirming. But if I waited to do anything until I knew it was a sure bet, I’d stay in bed all day.

But I don’t, we don’t, because we know that it’s not the size of the faith that makes things happen, it’s not the quality of assurance that makes things happen, but it’s the size and quality of the God behind the faith that makes things happen. And this is a God who does not fail.

So how are we, at Edgebrook Lutheran Church in the fall of 2007 going to act in faithfulness? Must we wait until we have the budget to ensure all our ministries and projects? Must we wait until we have the right numbers, the right pastors, the greatest amount of faith? Or will we act in faithfulness because God has asked us to. Will we act in faithfulness because God has promised, has covenanted with us, to name us, claim us, and never let us go?

When I would look at those caber tossers, I would be amazed. But I always thought that I’d never be able to toss a caber myself: my arms aren’t strong enough, my legs aren’t strong enough, and I’m not built for that type of sport. But, then again, I’ve never tried it. What would I do if I new I could not fail? I would probably start tossing mulberry trees into the sea.

There is ministry to be done, and we must act in faithfulness for a God who loves us, supports us, and has a better vision for humanity, for this world. We may not be in control, but that’s ok. God is. So let’s start tossing mulberry trees into the sea. Amen.

On Kierkegaard and Boredom

Today I've been tripping through my latest essay of Kierkegaard, "Either/Or: A Fragment of Life." To say that I love it would be to understate the fact. I am in love with this reading. And its not so much just the reading, but also the time spent reading, the freedom to read, the whole work of it all.

And it is work.

It is work to find time in your day to sit and read. And not just read, digest. To eat a piece of work, and upon finishing the given section, to taste your fingers. To ruminate on it. That is work; work often neglected.

Every so often I find this work ironic as well. Take today's snippet, for instance. I cannot in one sitting digest this piece of work, and so I trip through it. That is, I take small but frequent trips through it, taking it one section at a time. Today's reading was the very first few pages with the topic being: Boredom. Here Kierkegaard provides (as tongue-in-cheek) a proof that boredom is the root of all evil. The proof could be summarized this way: Boredom led God to Adam, Adam to Eve, Adam and Eve to Children, Children to population, population to Babel, and Babel to widespread population, widespread population to widespread boredom. Circle completed and begun again.

Obviously said with true conviction and a wink.

But it was the last part of this piece where irony pierced me to the chair. Kierkegaard writes,

"There are men who have an extraordinary talent for transforming everything into a matter of business, whose whole life is business, who fall in love, marry, listen to a joke, and admire a picture with the same industrious zeal with which they labor during business hours. The Latin proverb, otium est pulvinar diaboli (Idleness is the devil's pillow), is true enough, but the devil gets no time to lay his head on this pillow when one is not bored."

And I laughed because I had only an hour before said to myself, "It is time to work at some Kierkegaard." I was not taking time out for Kierkegaard, I was infusing him into my work schedule.

Oh to be bored and therefore read Kierkegaard out of boredom! But would I still digest it if bored? I hope so. But why take the chance?

And why give evil the chance to sleep?

Ah, back to work.

See you in church,
VT...

Festival of St. Michael and All Angels Sermon

September 30, 2007

John 1:47-51

⁴⁷When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!" ⁴⁸Nathanael asked him, "Where did you get to know me?" Jesus answered, "I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you." ⁴⁹Nathanael replied, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" ⁵⁰Jesus answered, "Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these." ⁵¹And he said to him, "Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man."

Fear Not

You know, it must be very scary to be in the presence of angels. You know it must be scary because every Biblical account where an angel makes themselves known to the person they are addressing, they always begin with some statement of not “Be not afraid!” or “Fear not!” If an angel were to visit me in this way they’d probably have to say something like, “Stop crouching behind that desk and don’t try to run away!” Because, I’m pretty sure that that would be my first instinct.

Our reading today in Daniel is no different. The angel touches him and says, “Do not fear…” And we all know the angel Gabriel’s beautiful poetry spoken to Mary at their initial greeting, and then to the shepherd’s on that fateful night. “Do not be afraid, for I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be to all people…”

Yes, it must be scary to be in the presence of an angel. Scary and awe-inspiring.

But before we get too caught up on what it means to be in the presence of angels, even on this feast day of St. Michael and All Angels, let us calm ourselves, even as we know the angels surround us. Too much of what we hear about angels today revolves around them being the benevolent caretakers of people. “Touched by an Angel” or “Angel’s in the Outfield” or even depictions like this small icon have really tainted what these creations of God truly are. They are disembodied messengers. They have no form until they speak the word of God. Angels are simply messengers of God. That is, they are the vessel that carries God’s message to the world. And so we call them “Angel” a derivative of the Greek “Angelos” which means “message carrier.”

Angels are not so much creatures with arms, legs, and feet, but God’s messages to humanity put in form, and forms humanity would recognize. And because they are God’s word in form they are scary and awe-inspiring; God’s Word makes things come alive, God’s message makes things happen.

In Genesis God spoke light into being. In baptism and communion, God’s word makes water, bread, and wine means of grace, ways that God comes to touch us. God’s word spoken in Mary created a savior, and in Revelation, God’s word spoken to evil in the presence of the created order of the cosmos puts evil under foot.

And God’s word to humanity is God’s promise of love. Love shown in God’s ultimate Word, Jesus Christ.

The promises of God make things happen. And that is why we celebrate Michael and All Angels, because angels remind us that God is still speaking in our world.

And how does God speak?

In our gospel reading today we get a picture of it. In the verses before John 1:17, which we didn’t read, we find Nathaniel sitting under a fig tree. Phillip calls him to come see this new preacher in town, this new guy named Jesus who is from Nazareth. Then Nathaniel makes a crack about Nazareth, saying that nothing good could come from there.

But he takes this journey with Phillip, and that’s where we pick up our gospel reading for today. Jesus takes a look at Nathaniel, still far off, and calls out his name and says that he is a “true Israelite.” “Israelite” is a Hebrew word meaning, “God sustains” or “God preserves.” Jesus names Nathaniel for who he is, one preserved by God.

This is the first way that God speaks to us: God names us for who we are. We are God’s, the people that God sustains.

And at this naming an amazing change comes over Nathaniel. This man who had been skeptical of this Jesus character, who had been reluctant to follow Phillip to see him, now makes the bold proclamation, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

Jesus names Nathaniel, and Nathaniel gives a statement of faith. The Word of God is spoken to Nathaniel, and Nathaniel is then able to speak the Word of God.

Make no mistake about it; this is not just a simple exchange. This passage of John is testament to the fact that God’s Word has power. It allowed Nathaniel to speak truth, it allows us to speak truth, it allows us to give a profession of faith. It moved Nathaniel past his reluctance to follow Jesus. And God’s word spoken to us today does the same thing. It moves us past our reluctance, past our doubts, to truly claim that Jesus is God come down to be with us.

And there is more. Jesus says, “You think that is something? If you hang around me, you’ll see more. You’ll see angels from heaven bringing messages upon me. You’ll see more of the word of God to come.”

In that, Jesus, the Word of God claimed Nathaniel. It told him that this journey he was about to embark on would be one where Nathaniel would see more of the word of God.

The Word of God not only names us, it claims us. It says that we are followers of God, radically loved, radically accepted, and that we have a radical purpose.

And Nathaniel did just that. He followed Jesus, named by the word of God, claimed by the message of God, to tell others God’s word.

And just as Nathaniel was able to proclaim the Word of God upon being named and claimed, we too are able, called to proclaim the Word of God because we have been named and claimed. In baptism we are formally named, we are identified children of a God who continues to speak through revelation, whose messages continue to call us to love, good works, acceptance, and peace. As radically loved people of God we are given the purpose to extend that radical love to others. We are called to bear the word of God’s claiming love to others.

But it’s difficult.

It’s difficult to do in a world that doesn’t always want to hear the radical good news. It’s hard to do in a world that would rather look for angels because they are fascinating and mysterious, than hear the message that angels proclaim. That’s hard to do in a world where greed, envy, starvation, and poverty are not seen as the evil that Michael and the other bearers of God’s world have come to destroy, but merely facts of life.

It’s hard to do, and so sometimes we are timid, ashamed, afraid, or unsure of doing it, of proclaiming that message, of speaking to the evil in this world. Sometimes we feel like we just want to crouch behind a desk or run away.

But God’s message is still there. The hosts of angelic choirs are still singing to us, still encouraging us, still chanting to us.

The angelic choirs are still telling us, “Fear Not.”

Fear not, even though this world is difficult. Fear not, even though greed continues to thrive and exist. Fear not, even though poverty and hunger continue to ravage. The word of God in action speaks against these worldly evils, the Word of God in action can overcome these devils, these serpents and tread them underfoot.

Fear Not! When you are facing the burden that you think you can’t overcome, that barrier, that addiction, that disease. Fear Not! Because tidings of great joy have come to bear upon our ears, our hearts, our lips, unto us is born a savior who takes away those barriers that keep us from joining that celestial army in fighting against these things. We have been named by the God who continues to speak, whose Word continues to work in this world, who will not let us go, who will continue to love us as we struggle to speak the Word of God in this world.

So fear not.

On this day, the Festival of St. Michael and All Angels, we once again remind ourselves that God is at work in the world in ways that we do not always see. Heavenly messengers continue to move with heavenly messages that continue to name us as children of God, and claim us as people sustained and preserved by God. On this day we once again muster up the courage to hear the angels tell us to “fear not” in the face of a difficult world, because God in Jesus has crushed underfoot those things that prevent us from speaking truth.

God continues to speak through angels, through the Word, and through you and me.

So, let us join the company of angels in giving praise to God here this morning. Surely they match our voices and rejoice as we rejoice. And then, let’s go from this place, joining that company of angels in speaking God’s word and doing God’s work in a world that desperately needs to know that God has freed them from the power of evil, sin, and death. Amen.