Thursday, August 30, 2007

To Ponder a Point




For today a short entry to ponder; merely a point. It's the period at the end of a sentence, the head of a pin. But it's the head of a pin upon which a whole universe of thought lives, thrives, and swirls.

James B. Nelson writes:

"God's invitations to change our lives seldom come in the gentle wrappings of a nice Hallmark card. More frequently they come in confrontations with our own deformities, assaults from which we recoil and want to run. But it is only when we face them honestly that we recognize the open arms of the wounded Holy One."

See you in church,
VT...

Quote from James B. Nelson's work Thirst: God and the Alcoholic Experience. A book to have, a book to recommend.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Sermon: 13th Sunday after Pentecost

13th Sunday after Pentecost

August 26th, 2007

Luke 13:10–17

10Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. 11And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." 13When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God.

14But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day." 15But the Lord answered him and said, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? 16And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?" 17When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

That’s Life

“That's life, that's what all the people say.
You're riding high in April,
Shot down in May
But I know I'm gonna change that tune,
When I'm back on top, back on top in June.

I said that's life, and as funny as it may seem
Some people get their kicks,
Stompin' on a dream
But I don't let it, let it get me down,
'Cause this fine ol' world it keeps spinning around”

This old Frank Sinatra tune might be the soundtrack to the opening part of this Gospel. This bent woman comes walking past the synagogue and the Pharisee takes a look at her and says, “That’s life…” It’s the Sabbath, after all. A day of rest, not a day of healing. But Jesus, no, Jesus has a different view of life, a different view of the Sabbath day, and he’s out to show that Pharisee what it is.

I love that we’re reading Luke this year because Luke is a master theologian. In his gospel we find more acts of physical healing than any of the other accounts. This is part of the reason why many think Luke was a physician. But I say that Luke is a physician of the soul more than the body, because when he gives an example of a physical healing in relationship to the body, he is also commenting on our spiritual relationship with God as well.

Take today’s gospel for instance. Jesus is teaching inside the temple, going through the scriptures with the gathered men. And Luke sets this scene up so perfectly, enter stage right, just outside the synagogue door, a woman who is bent and could not stand up straight. She’s not coming to Jesus for healing, she’s probably just walking by.

But you see, Jesus knows that what is preached in the synagogue must have legs in the world. And so he goes out of the synagogue, because women couldn’t learn with the men in the synagogue, and puts his hands on the woman. She immediately stands straight up and begins praising God.

And what happens? The Pharisees get mad. They like, as old Franky said, “stompin’ on people’s dreams.” It seems they don’t want the teaching in the temple to be applied on the street, at least not on the Sabbath. You see, that Pharisees thought the Sabbath was a day only for learning, it was a day only for sitting and listening and arguing. And so the Pharisee goes out to the assembled people, out to this crowd gathered around this woman who is now standing straight, praising God, and tells them, “Alright, that’s a freebe. But if the rest of you want to be healed, our office hours are Sunday through Friday. Saturdays, the Sabbath, we are closed for healings.” And I can imagine the outrage. I can imagine the people grumbling. And, just as clearly, I can imagine the Pharisee turning back to the people and saying, “That’s life! You may be down and out on Saturday, but you can always come on Sunday. Pull yourselves together, it’s the rules, and we must follow the rules.”

And Jesus takes the rules and stands them on their head. He points to the Pharisee as says, “You will untie your donkey for them to drink on the Sabbath. You will give them what is necessary for them to live, and yet you deny these people that very life sustaining food that you give your pets?” And then he points to the woman and says, “This is a daughter of Abraham! Your own bloodline. And yet you will not give her the same decency that you give your donkey, your ass?”

Now, I don’t mean to swear here from the pulpit, let alone in church, but that double entendre is so fitting, and it’s exactly the point that Jesus is making. The Pharisee was concerned about the rules; the rules for him dictated who was in, who was out, who got healed, and who stayed bent. But Jesus says, in effect, “What else is the time of God for than providing the healing that humanity needs? Forget the “rules.” When the rules prevent healing, prevent wholeness, we need to forget them, especially on the Sabbath!”

How slow we are to be merciful and use “the rules” as the excuse.

And, are we so quick to forget how God has bent the rules for us? It’s probably been years since you all have had catechism, so I’ll give you a quick refresher course. Luther’s explanation of the Third Article of the creed is helpful here. It says:

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting. Amen.

Now comes, Luther’s favorite line, “What does this mean.” You see, we affirm that these are not just words compiled together, but a meaningful statement of faith. So, what does this mean?

I believe I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him;

You cannot, by your own reason or strength, believe in Jesus Christ. I can’t either. Sounds to me like we’re all a bunch of spiritually bent people, walking outside the holiness of God. Sounds like we’re a lot like that woman, unable to stand in front of God, unable to even come close to God because our sin prevents us. We have not followed the rule to love God as we should, love our neighbor as we should, and so we’re an un-curably bent people.

But the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.

The Holy Spirit has called you by the Gospel. God has come out of the place of teaching with the word, just as Christ left that synagogue to hit the streets. You have been enlightened with gifts and kept in true faith by the God who comes to meet you.

Even as the Holy Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian Church on earth and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one true faith.

So we’re not alone in this. God’s call is for everyone to be healed, especially on the Sabbath.

Let’s finish this out, now.

In which Christian Church God daily and richly forgives all sins to me and all believers, and will at the Last Day raise up me and all the dead, and give unto me and all believers in Christ eternal life. This is most certainly true.

You see, Luke is pointing out that we are all bent in front of the holiness of God, just as that woman was bent. And God in Christ has come out to us, reached out with that crucified hand, that hand with the nail mark clearly visible, to allow us to stand up straight in the presence of God. We can’t do it on our own, so Christ is sent to stand in solidarity with us. We are all spiritually bent. Here, on this holy day of the week, we learn, feel, hear, and see that. And it is also here where we come to be touched by Christ again, to confess that we are sinful, and stand straight before God again.

Every prayer, every prayer that we say here in this congregation is an admission of sin. When we pray for protection for our service men and women, we are confessing that we live and act in a society that hurts each other. When we pray for the homeless and the hungry, we admit that we do not always live in a way that provides for our neighbors. We come here bent on the Sabbath, and hear once again that God in Jesus has straightened us out, that the rules have been broken, that our sins are forgiven without our payment.

And so, what do we do? Do we, then, go out like that Pharisee and point out the ways that others are bent in this world? Do we go and hold the rules over people, withholding our healing hands that must do God’s work because the “rules of society” don’t allow it?

God in Christ has broken the rules for us. And so we must consider what our response to that is. Do we further push people who need healing, who need help, to the sides because “the rules” won’t let us help? Or do we provide healing, solace, wholeness back to humanity as Christ has done for us? This is the Christian dilemma, and one we must actively face. How will you, then, go out this day, knowing what Christ has done for you, begin to heal this world and the people of this world?

You know, Frank is right, sometimes we’re riding high in April and shot down in May. But that’s not life. That’s this world. Christ coming to meet us where we are, as bent and broken people, allowing us to stand up and praise God. Christ coming to restore us so that we can be instruments, tools, people that restore others. Now that’s life!

Amen.

Friday, August 24, 2007

A Crisis of Faith


Today's Chicago Sun-Times has an article on Mother Teresa's "crisis of faith," as uncovered in some of her letters, reflections, and writings. When published comprehensively, this work is supposed to give us a surprising and frank look at this blessed soul's theological reflection and personal struggles. Indeed, Mother Teresa is said to write about the "dryness, darkness, loneliness, and torture" that she felt, even as she did her work amongst the poor. She questions God's fidelity, and even at points is said to question God's reality.

This work may ruffle some feathers, as many don't want to think of their religious leaders enduring a crisis of faith. But is this altogether surprising? How many among us, even the holiest amongst us, has not questioned God's fidelity? Even the Psalmist writes:

My God, my God,
Why have your forsaken me?
Why are you so far from helping me,
From the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day,
But you do not answer;
And by night,
But find no rest.*

These words, echoed by Jesus on the cross in both Matthew and Mark, give voice to the very deepest feelings of loneliness, dryness, and abandonment. Even Christ, God incarnate, felt abandoned. Therefore, we should be surprised when even the holiest amongst us does not have a crisis of faith. This comes with the territory as the desert of this world sometimes feels unendingly parched as we trip on stones that will not turn into bread, and rocks that will not gush forth water. A crisis of faith is nothing to laugh at, but is not necessarily destructive and nothing new.

Even now, some in this congregation might be feeling a faith crisis, as we wait, listen, and pray for news on our senior pastor's surgery. And even as our anxiety grows, so do our cries: God, do not forsake us in this time!

And God will not; God does not. Even the Psalmist, in their crisis of faith, ends proclaiming:

All you offspring of Jacob,
Glorify God;
Stand in awe of God,
All you offspring of Israel!
For God did not despise
Or abhor the affliction
Of the afflicted;
God did not hide God's face
From me,
But heard when I cried.*

God hears our cries, and even though we might be in crisis, God is not. God continues to stand with us, wait with us, listen with us, even when we feel we are held between moments of time, held in that limbo that is anxiety and uncertainty. And resolution is on the horizon, faith is waiting for us again. The voice that once cried "dryness, darkness, loneliness, and torture" is also the voice that said, "Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies."

Continue to pray, continue to listen, be faithful in small things, God is active.

See you in church,
VT...

*Psalm 22, NRSV

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Let it Go

Yesterday I helped new neighbors move into their apartment. On the third floor. No elevator. Imagine my great joy upon seeing their heirloom wardrobe, begging me to clasp one of its awkward, sharp corners as our foursome carried it's wooden frame and empty womb up those flights of stairs. Even empty, it weighed a ton.

Yesterday brought once again that dreaded feeling of "too much." I looked around our small apartment and realized that our apartment was, indeed, obese with things that we continue to cling to, some of it for aesthetic reasons and others for functional reasons. But there is another category altogether that much of our extra possessional weight falls under: "no discernible reason."

Eastern religious masters, in their sage wisdom, are adept at practicing "un-attachment." The wisdom behind this practice lies in its underlying caution: things that you own will begin to own you.

Yet this practice is not purely Eastern, but should also be a Christian practice as well. Indeed, the first commandment "You shall have no other gods before me" is a call to un-attach ourselves from all that clouds us from keeping God as central in our lives. And it stands to reason that the more obese our homes, wallets, and belts get, the less room there is for God in our lives.

Even as Ecclesiastes reminds us that "For everything there is a season," we must constantly remind ourselves that many of our possessions may be out of season. And this may just mean that it is time to "throw away stones," as that wise author notes. And stones come in many shapes: couches, clothes, memories that continue to do evil to us, and food that can be eaten another day. So many stones.

How is your life obese?

I leave you with a poem by Eugene Peterson:

Blessed are the poor in spirit
A beech tree in winter, white
Intricacies unconcealed
Against sky blue and billowed
Clouds, carries in his emptiness
Ripeness: sap ready to rise
On signal, buds alert to burst
To leaf. And then after a season
Of summer a lean ring to remember
The lush fulfilled promises.
Empty again in wise poverty
That lets the reaching branches stretch
A millimeter more towards heaven,
The bole expand ever so slightly
And push roots into the firm
Foundation, lucky to be leafless:
Deciduous reminder to let it go.

Let it go...

See you in church,
VT...

Monday, August 20, 2007

Sermon Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

August 19, 2007

12th Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 12:49-56
I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided:
father against son
and son against father,
mother against daughter
and daughter against mother,
mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law
and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law."
He also said to the crowds, "When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, 'It is going to rain'; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, 'There will be scorching heat'; and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

What Time is It?

What time is it? This is the question that Jesus leaves his disciples with in today’s reading, and consequently, leaves us pondering as well. Today’s reading is not the common fare that we are used to hearing from our Prince of Peace. Indeed, this passage in Luke seems like something that might come from the lips of a street preacher, which is exactly what Jesus was in those early days in Palestine.

Today we see Jesus wearing his prophecy hat, echoing the words of Micah, of John the Baptist, of Elijah, of those great forebears that startled the sleeping followers of God from their slumber. Like a noisy alarm clock, Jesus calls out, “What time is it? Don’t you see the signs? Can’t you feel the fire that is forming, the divisions to come?”

Fire. Another one of those touchy subjects, at least for those early hearers of the word. In not so many years after Jesus’ death, Emperor Nero will take power and decimate the early Christian population with fire. Nero would take Christians, put them on a pole, and burn them, the flames giving light to his after-dinner parties. The great fire of 64 AD would burn in Rome for 6 days as Nero looked on, rumored to be singing and dancing on his balcony. His damage control tactic was to blame it on the Christians, who at that time were mostly slaves and the poor working class, causing further persecution to come upon them. Can you imagine being an early Christian hearing this account in Luke?

When Jesus says he has come to bring fire to the Earth, do not think that this is just some passing imagery for those early hearers, this is serious stuff! Those early Christians would think back to those persecutions. They knew fire to be oppressive. That gets your attention.

How do we hear it today? Our images of fire are probably quite different, but no less scary. We probably envision planes crashing into tall buildings, or brush and forest fires ravishing homes in the mountains of California and the flatlands of Florida. We also probably see, even when we close our eyes, those pictures of civilian and military victims destroyed or severely burned in car-bomb explosions, IED detonations, and other bombings. These images, too, get our attention.

And so when Jesus says, “I have come to bring fire,” this naturally makes us ask, as it did for those ancient hearers of these words in Luke, “What time is it? Is this a new time of persecution? Is this a new time of war? Is Jesus advocating for these things?”

But fire for use in war, fire as a tool of oppression is not Jesus’ point at all. Indeed, his use of fire is in the vein of holy fire. It is the pillar of fire that led the Israelites through the desert, the fire that burned the altar of Elijah in front of the Baal priests. It is the fire that touched the lips of Zechariah, purifying him before the birth of John the Baptist, it is the fire that would dance upon the heads of those disciples, huddled in that upper room for fear of the authorities. Jesus is the fire of God breaking into our darkened world. It is not the fire of oppression, but the fire of freedom. It is not the fire of war, but the candle of peace. It is not the fire that is all-consuming, but a fire that burns the chaff and harvests the wheat. This is Jesus, the fire of God. That, too, should get your attention.

You know, I was flipping through the channels the other morning as I was putting my shoes on for church. I stopped on a channel where a familiar preacher at a stadium church was advising his congregation that “the end is near.” He said that God’s fire of justice was going to wipe out the earth, that the wars in Iraq and the Holy Land were proofs, signs of the time. Mounting tensions with North Korea, current military disagreements with Russia, and our standoff with Iran were clear signs that God was ushering in the end of time, and that we needed to be ready.

I sat there with one shoe on and one shoe off and thought about those early Christians hearing this passage of Luke, and I laughed to myself.

If you’ll remember, they thought the exact same thing. And the end did not come.

Two thousand years ago the fear of ultimate destruction was on the hearts and minds of those Christians, just as it is on the hearts and minds of many today, including those congregation members listening to that pastor who needs to do more homework. You see, the fire of God is not to bring about the end times. If anyone is going to destroy us, it will be us! The fire of God in Christ is the sign, the beginning of a new time. Christ is God burning Word breaking into a world that, while hungering for God’s presence, also rejects God.

Our world, our hearts, hunger for God’s presence, yet we reject God. We hunger for God’s justice in the world, but argue over how it will be done and who will do it. We hunger for mercy from God, yet bite and strike back when we are given the opportunity to be merciful. When Jesus speaks about causing division, this is what he is referring to. When you take the fire of God seriously, when you take Christ and Christ’s radical call for love seriously, there is going to be argument.

In our world we can see some of these divisions clearly.

We, as Christians, take seriously: “Blessed are the poor for they have the kingdom of God.” The world today says: “Make as much money as you can because it gives power.”

We, as Christians, take seriously: “Put your light on a lamp-stand so that those who enter may see.” The world today says: “Don’t wear your faith on your sleeve.”

We, as Christians, take seriously: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you.” The world today says: “Revenge and war will lead to peace.”

Even in circles of Christians we find division. This past week at the Churchwide Assembly I witnessed Christians taking Christ seriously. As we listened, prayed, sang, and voted, we tried to take Christ’s call to discipleship seriously, discerning where the fire of God was leading us. And yes, there were divisions. Many divisions. Pastor against voting member, Bishop against pastor, parent against child.

But this is what happens when you take Christ seriously. And we live trusting that God’s word in Christ will bring us back around the table, back around the fire of his love shown in bread and wine, water and word, to heal those divisions. God in Christ has set your heart ablaze, not with all the right answers, but with a desire to be with God. So turn, be baptized, and follow that pillar of fire through this desert of a world.

Do you not see the signs? As we take God seriously, even as divisions form and families pit themselves against one another, we must remember that the fire of God is not for destruction, not for the end of things. The fire of God brings a new beginning.

So what time is it? It’s time to see that new beginning here in our hearts, here in this church, here in this world. It is a place where money does not rule, where power does not dominate, it is a place where we are served by God and serve one another. This is the change that the fire of God brings. Sure, divisions will happen as we take God’s work in Christ seriously; it will not be easy navigating this path. But the fire of God dances above our heads, reminding us what time it is. It’s our sign. It is time for a new beginning, God’s new beginning. Amen.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

On Life and Existentialism


Soren Kierkegaard, that beautifully tortured soul, writes in his journal reflection of 1835:

"How bewildering the contemplation of life often is when seen in all its richness, when we look at the astonishing variety of ability and disposition, from the man who has grown so inwardly familiar with God that like John of old he may be said to lie upon the divine breast, to the man who in his bestial brutality misunderstands and wants to misunderstand all the deeper emotions, from the man who sees through the historical process with the eyes of a lynx and almost dares to set the hour, to him for whom even the simplest thing is difficult; or else we realize the inequality of rank and position, at one moment enviously feeling the lack of what has been given to others, at another time with a thankful melancholy seeing how much has been given to us which has been denied to others-and then a cold philosophy tries to explain it all from pre-existence and does not see it as the unending pageantry of life with its motley play of colors and its infinite variety."

How incredibly accurate and true. Though we long for simple explanation, we cannot only be people of prose, but people who use imagination, song, and poetry to speak to the congregation, to the friend, to the lover about God. We must be, as Eugene Peterson says, an "Apocalyptic Poet" to our hearers, speaking into being the dynamic truth of life. Cold philosophy will explain how something is. But only poetry, music, and song explain what it is. God speaks to us in poetry, a great example for speaking to each other.

See you in church,
VT...

Kierkegaard quote taken from A Kierkegaard Anthology edited by Robert Bretall. Peterson quote from his work The Contemplative Pastor.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Not Peace, but a Sword...and then Peace

Having just attended the Churchwide Assembly, I find it fitting that this week's lection is Luke 12:49-56. The beginning verses of this reading are haunting and violent.

"49I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! 50I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!"

Not the usual fare that we are so accustomed to having from our Prince of Peace. Yet, after this Churchwide Assembly, I see so much of the truth of this verse, and do not think it is a coincidence that it falls where it does.

At the Assembly the ELCA took a position on a number of items, from HIV/AIDs to investment in Palestine. Yet, all that we continue to talk about is sex. Sex is the topic of conversation that seriously divided those in attendance, as we sought to make a statement that was Christ-centered and just for humanity.

And the fire came. I saw it.

I saw it on the tongues of those at the microphones, adamantly speaking in favor of their particular position. I saw it on the heads of those voting members as they sought to discern where God is leading the church anew.

And I saw the votes aflame as they shown on the board for all to see. Truly, this day, the work of Christ had brought a sword to the church, as the votes were near evenly split.

And then I saw the fire again, this time in worship. It was after the vote as a thousand members on both sides of that sword gathered together around the flame of a candle, around the flame of the Word, around the flame of an impassioned God present for a weary and distraught people.

And suddenly that sword cut through our hearts. It cut us to the core as we worshiped together, eating and drinking the things of God. And those divisions that were before were no more around that table where all were welcomed. Our hard hearts once again split by the God who continues to show up to burn the chaff and harvest the wheat.

Being a Lutheran Christian is not easy. Indeed, divisions will arise as we continue to discern where God in Christ is calling us to move. But Christ knew this, God knows this, and we must realize this. The Prince of Peace can heal such divisions.

I leave you with a prayer by Walter Brueggemann that I picked up this morning. It seems like an appropriate prayer for today.

"God sovereign and generous,
Who commands the rise and the fall of nations,
who calls and has chosen many peoples,
who weeps when they harm each other,
who haunts every local culture-including ours-
with your will for well-being
who draws close to the powerless and
surprises with power via weakness
You are the one whom we praise in astonishment,
we adore in gladness
we thank in gratitude...
for who you are,
for what you do,
for how you hope.
Look with mercy on us this day,
on all the churches we serve and love,
on all the people we name,
on all the communities so fragile in which
we are embedded.
Look with your mercy, and we will obey you all the day long.
In the name of Jesus who obeyed fully, Amen.

See you in church,
VT...

Prayer taken from Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth by Walter Brueggemann.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

The Summer Dance

"And so they linked their hands and danced
'round in circles and in rows
And so the journey of the night descends
when all the shades are gone."

It was a summer ritual. In my college years camp could not come soon enough. To be with nature: forests, water, birds in the morning, crickets at dusk. It was a time when my daily routine was set by the sun, not by my appointment book. There were games to play, rivers to paddle, rocks to climb, and children to amaze with stories and legendary feats of wonder.

The camp that became home to me is named Kirchenwald, "church in the woods." And that is what we did there in the woods: we had church. We gathered every day around the things of God with fellowship, adventure, stories about God's faithfulness to God's people, and the service that comes when we depend on each other for the daily things of life.

And Saturday would come too fast. The campers would hug us, hug each other, promise to be back in a year, and drive off with parents in tow. The camp would be quiet. We, counselors, would stay. We would grill and sit, chat and dance, until dusk. We would relish the time off, and yet relish the anticipation we felt for the next day, Sunday, when we would encounter God again in the faces of new campers.

And what did our campers leave with? A sense of creation, an experience of living off the earth and trusting God's people. And, of course, a garland of memories that evidenced the life of a child in the presence of God.

"A garland gay we bring you here
And at your door we stand
Here's a sprout, well budded out
The work of our Lord's hand."

Where is this place for me today? Do I celebrate the summer work of God, with it's solar appointment book and fellowship opportunities? I try with marginal success, yet the dance continues to draw me in as I wear that garland of memories every year, dancing through the night into the day.

"We've been rambling all the night
and sometime of this day
Now returning back again
we bring a garland gay."

See you in church,
VT...

The lyrics are from Loreena McKennitt's song "Mummer's Dance."