Sermon: Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Edgebrook Lutheran Church

July 6, 2008

Eighth Day after Pentecost

Matthew 11:16–19, 25–30

¹⁶But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,
¹⁷'We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not mourn.'
¹⁸For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'He has a demon'; ¹⁹the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!' Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."
²⁵At that time Jesus said, "I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; ²⁶yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. ²⁷All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
²⁸Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. ²⁹Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Good News: We are yoked with God.

Watch for the Cue

Ok, we're going to try this. I'm going to give you a cue, and we'll see how you respond.

Marco (Polo)

773-202-(LUNA)

Hey Chicago, whaddya say? (Cubs are goin to win today)

All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought it was a joke, (pop goes the weasel)

Cues. We live in a "cue" society; our advertisement industry banks on it. You didn't know that you needed that prescription medicine, but you should probably ask your doctor about it. You didn't know that you needed that new car, the one given at Christmas with big bow on it, but it turns out you do. Jingles, catch phrases, they are intended to cue us into something that we need but didn't know, that we desire but don't realize.

In today's Gospel lesson, Jesus is talking about cues. These aren't the jingles and the catch phrases of today, these are good cues. And he's talking to the Pharisees about how they don't recognize the cues of God, even though they're right there in front of them. They want Jesus to play their own games, they want John the Baptist to play their own games, but Jesus is saying that God has a different game in mind. And he uses the example of children's games, much like Marco Polo or Pop Goes the Weasel.

Children would sit in the market place while they're parents would shop or do business, and they'd play games. Two very popular games were "Wedding" and "Funeral". I remember my brothers and I playing "Cops and Robbers," or "School," or "Space Travelers" much the same way. If it's a marriage game, you start singing. And the Pharisees were singing, but, as Jesus points out, John the Baptist didn't want to play.

John was yelling about repentance, and the kingdom of God. He wore rags and ate strange food, not the kind of stuff you'd bring to a wedding.

You see, the Pharisees wanted something different out of John the Baptist, they wanted John to fit into their own mold. He wouldn't play, so they called him a demon.

And, likewise, Jesus was a little too outgoing for the Pharisees. He ate with sinners, partied at weddings, he cavorted with the lowliest in society. The Pharisees wanted to play funeral with Jesus, they wanted him to be more serious than he was willing to be, they wanted him to fit into their own mold of what a Rabbi, a Messiah was supposed to be.

Ironically, they did end up playing funeral with Jesus in a very real way.

Jesus says to the Pharisees, "You are like children playing a game, and you get mad when we don't play," because you cannot give God cues and expect God to play your games.

And we still do that, sometimes, as well. We still expect God sometimes to follow our cues, to play our games.

God doesn't play.

But in this passage, God is giving us cues. God is giving us a different framework, a different game to play in the work and person of Jesus Christ.

This last part of this section, this final part, where Jesus says,

"²⁸Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. ²⁹Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

This is the cue that God is giving to us.

You know, just as often as we expect God to play our games, I think we spend quite a bit of time trying to figure out if God is giving us cues for how to conduct our actions, how to move to the next station in life.

I remember hearing about how Oprah once was about to get on a plane and there was some delay and they wouldn't get out that night. She went back home to return the next morning. In the meantime, a huge storm came up, and when Oprah arrived back home, her basement was flooded. As she sat on her stage, she told her audience that she thought God had caused the delay so she could go home and sump-pump her basement.

Now, on the outside, that seems like an ok thing to conjecture. But if I was one of those passengers on the plane, and I thought God had delayed my vacation, my visit to see my grandparents, or a funeral, or a baptism, or anything so that Oprah could sump-pump her basement, I'd be pretty ticked off.

You see, I'm pretty convinced that the cues we get from God are 90 percent in hind-sight. I can't say that it wasn't God that caused that airplane to fail, but I can't find the ability to utter the words that it was.

But today God is giving us, giving you, giving those Pharisees, and those disciples, giving the world an unmistakeable cue. And it is not game, it is life.

God is telling you that you are yoked to God. And not just yoked to God in Christ, but this yoke is unlike any other yoke you've ever experienced.

See, a lot of us are yoked.

We're yoked to success. We're yoked to drugs, sex, violence, charity, good works, self-righteousness, workaholism, alcoholism…tons of yokes to be under.

But God's yoke is different.

Jesus describes this yoke as being "easy". That is not really a great translation. The godly life, the Christian life, is never "easy," at least not in our modern conceptions of the word. The word "easy" is better translated as "well suited."

My yoke is "well suited."

On a bright June day, I sat with Larry and his family in hospital room 603 at Northwestern Medical Center. Larry would not live the night. He had been unresponsive for days, and the family had made the difficult but loving decision to remove life support.

As they gathered, family and friends, cousins and children, they told me stories about Larry. I didn't know Larry, never shook his hand, but I held his hand. I didn't know Larry, never heard him laugh, but I heard his children laugh as they told stories about his life.

Larry would not make it through the night.

I stayed with the family for much of the day. As my shift was changing, we prayed and I left them, and I walked outside.

And as I walked outside, I observed people going about their day, laughing and smiling. The birds were chirping, the cars were honking, and I wanted to go up to them all and shake them.

"Don't you know whats going on upstairs? There is a family that is about to go through a difficult, life-changing event. A father, brother, son, is about to die tonight, and here you are laughing, and chirping, and honking. Don't you know?!"

But then I thought back to my time with the family. How we had talked about God and faith, about the promises found in the good news that God is with us, even in death. About the good news that Jesus has promised eternal life.

And, somehow, that burden was lightened, if just a bit. It wasn't easy. Lord, it never is. But it's true. The hope, the promise that God has given, the cue that God has given in the person of Jesus Christ: that God is with us, in life, death, and everywhere in between, was well suited.

It was well suited for life.

You see, I don't know that we can always tell when God is giving us an individualized, specialized, situational cue, not until hind-sight. But if there is one cue that I see in writing, one cue that I see plain as day, one cue that is life giving: it is that we are walking with God through this life, yoked with the Christ no matter what ground of life we're tilling. Just as Christ moved past death into true life, we live with that promise as well. No matter what storms may come, whether it be weddings or funerals, drugs or self-righteousness, self-doubt or sump-pumps, we walk yoked with Christ, a yoke that is well suited to deal with them all.

Take the cue: you are yoked with Christ, and this is freeing news!

So, lets try one more cue, a cue that speaks to this life giving word:

Christ is risen! (Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia).

Amen.

Sermon: Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Edgebrook Lutheran Church

June 22, 2008

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Matthew 10:24-39

²⁴A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; ²⁵it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!
²⁶So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. ²⁷What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. ²⁸Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. ²⁹Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. ³⁰And even the hairs of your head are all counted. ³¹So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.
³²Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; ³³but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.
³⁴Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.
³⁵For I have come to set a man against his father,
and a daughter against her mother,
and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;
³⁶and one's foes will be members of one's own household.
³⁷Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; ³⁸and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. ³⁹Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

Good News: God, through Jesus, has erased all fear.

Do Not Fear. Follow.

This is a strange June, my friends.

Last week I was eating a Whopper at Burger King with my nephews, which is a big deal because Rhonda and I make it a point not to each fast food. But the nephews wanted it, and far be it from me to displace their view of me as the uncle who is fun, so of course we stop off there to eat.

And as I’m eating this Whopper, something doesn’t taste quite right. You see, in my younger days, I was a Whopper connoisseur. I ate them bi-weekly. I can still remember the taste. But this didn’t taste right.

And I opened the burger and realized that there was, indeed, no tomato on my burger. The salmonella outbreak had taken its toll and it totally affected the taste. I somehow found the will to finish the burger, but I was reminded of a Laurie Colwin quote that rang true at that moment:

“A world without tomatoes is like a string quartet without violins.”

Luckily, we’re getting our violins back.

And for much of the past two weeks, we’ve all been glued to the reports of our neighbors to the West and North, Iowa, Wisconsin, border Illinois, hoping and praying for safety, even as we see the rivers well up to the point that the banks overflow, and the river borders are no longer sand and shore, but homes and businesses.

Our prayers and our support are still with them as we pray for receding waters.

And to go along with our strange June, today, we have a very strange text.

It mentions demons and swords, crosses and dissention.

^“and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

This is the only mention of the cross that Jesus has in Matthew before his actual crucifixion, and so we have to try to get at the heart of what Jesus is saying here.

You see, Jesus is not advocating that we go looking for crosses. Sometimes I think there is this idea among Christians that anything hard, or anything troubling is a “cross to bear.”

Sometimes I think we see any burden as a “cross to bear.” That’s simply not the case.

A difficult decision is not a cross. Taking children to school, or Sunday School, going to church, putting up with an annoying friend who dominates your time. Those are not crosses. And I think our strange June has made that abundantly clear to us. My scheduling conflicts are nothing compared to losing my house, my land, a family member or friend in a flood.

And suffering in general is not a cross. Illness, sickness, disease, these are not crosses. They are moments where God’s grace works wonders, they are moments where God can work and move in and through us. But I cannot, in good pastoral conscience, tell my brother or my sister suffering with AIDs, suffering from malnutrition, suffering from even glaucoma or hypertension, that that is their “cross to bear.”

And when we equate those to the cross of Christ, we cheapen that event. We cheapen that grace.

You see crosses are those things in our life that we run into when we follow Jesus Christ, and God’s work through him. Crosses are those things we run into when are faced with the reality of suffering, not in ourselves, but in the world, in others. Crosses are redemptive pieces of machinery.

You see, we don’t go looking for crosses because, in our life crosses will come looking for us.

And when we face a cross in our lifetime, we have a decision. We can pick it up and follow Christ, knowing exactly there it leads.

Or we can turn away.

Pastor Heidi Neumark, in her memoir Breathing Space, speaks of crosses. The memoir is full of crosses.

In one particularly moving entry, she speaks about going to see a woman named Ruby. Ruby comes to the food pantry of the Transfiguration Lutheran Church, where Heidi is called, and Heidi has only seen her there a couple of times. Ruby is not a member of the church. She doesn’t attend services. But Heidi goes to see her.

She knocks on the door, and after a moment or two of shuffling behind it, Ruby opens it up. And the place is a mess. There are no lights on because the power has been shut off. There is old food and clothes everywhere, and a small toddler in dirty clothes is seated on the floor. Ruby has struggled with abusive relationships, with crack, with a daughter who won’t go to school because her clothes are too ratty and wrinkled, to an apartment infested with rats to the point that they gnaw on the mattresses at night. And, most recently, Ruby has been diagnosed with HIV.

Now, these are not crosses for Ruby to bear. And think about it. If Ruby were to die on any of these crosses, from abuse or crack, from HIV or infestation, where would the redemption be?

No. You see, the one being faced with the cross at this moment is Heidi.

Is you and me.

Heidi followed Christ, the Christ that says, “Love your neighbors as yourselves.” The Christ that says, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And in following Christ she has found herself at this cross.

What will she do? What will she do?

Now, believe it or not, Heidi has options. When faced with this dilemma, we’re torn I’m sure. Helping Ruby out could be a serious investment of time and money, could be a serious investment of sweat equity, and could be impossible.

Or, Heidi can continue to visit with Ruby, and at the end of their exchange, simply walk away. Perhaps visit another day.

So what do they do? They pray. And, believe me, prayer is the first thing to do when faced with a cross. After all, what did Jesus do when faced with his cross. He went up to the garden of Gethsemene and prayed for a way out. He prayed that there might be another way. There wasn’t in that case.

You see, when we follow the footsteps of Jesus, when we follow the commands that say, “Love your neighbor, embrace your enemy.” When we do those things that God has said are important in this life, we’re going to find crosses.

So, do we pick them up, or pass them by?

Well, I think the answer is that sometimes we pick them up, and sometimes we pass them by.

And that’s OK. It’s OK because, well, if we’re following in the path of Christ, crosses will appear at our feet all the time, every day. And folks, we can’t pick them all up by ourselves. We simply can’t. Even Jesus says we can’t. At the beginning of this section of Matthew he says, “The disciple is not above the teacher, the servant above the master.”

We are not gods. We cannot be crucified on every cross that is out there.

But then again, we are commanded to pick up our cross and follow Jesus. There are some crosses we simply can’t pass by. And so we are commanded to do so in following Christ. It is our vocation to do so. It is our calling.

But what happens when we do?

What happens when we pick up a cross?

Well, Jesus lays it out for us. You see, the disciples who were following Jesus thought he would be bringing military and political peace to the world. But Jesus says that disciples shouldn’t expect peace. In fact, if you teach and preach, if you reach out as Jesus did, you should not expect peace, but a sword.

Yes, a sword.

And you should expect to be called names. “Beelzebul” is the word used here. It literally, in Hebrew means, “Lord of the flies.” Expect to be called King or Queen of the dung-heap, it says.

And you can expect family discourse. Because, you see, sometimes following Christ puts us at odds with others, even our families. We live in a world that calls us to be greedy, to put people in a hierarchical order, to degrade some while lifting up others. But Christ calls us to be giving, to turn hierarchy on it’s head, to uplift all even if it means taking a lower place yourself. And that’s not going to sit well with everyone, even in families. Mothers will disagree with mother-in-laws, fathers with sons. There is dissention on the way of the cross.

But there’s Good News.

You see, the love of God that calls us to reach out to others, calls us to take up our crosses. But we don’t do it alone. We do it with God’s help.

Throughout this section of Matthew, Jesus continually reminds the disciples, reminds us that we are not to be afraid of this path.

“Do not fear.” You see, the work of Jesus has freed us from fear. The work of the Messiah has freed us from those things that hold us back from doing the work of God in this world.

Do not fear if people call you crazy for picking up the cross of that neglected child in your neighborhood, the one who is violent and mischievous, but also hungry. Jesus was once called crazy.

Do not fear the financial loss of taking some time out to work for the Red Cross in flooded parts of Iowa, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota. God calls us to care for our neighbors and is working in and through that effort.

Do not fear the derisive looks that some in this world will give you when you stand up against racism, sexism, homophobia, and greed. Do not fear their jokes, their snide remarks behind your back. Jesus is standing there with you, taking up that cross with you. They might be able to cut you with a sword of words, or even real swords sometimes, but they cannot touch your real self, your true self, the self that God knows. That is God’s!

Do not fear. Follow.

The hymn of the day today called The Summons, and is speaks to following Christ, no matter what crosses it leads to. The fourth verse is especially poignant:

“Will you love the you you hide, if I but call your name? Will you quell the fear inside, and never be the same. Will you use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around? Through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?”

Do not fear, quell that fear inside. In following God we are standing with God against those things that threaten the world, against those swords that cut. And do not be afraid of those swords. God has promised that swords will be plowshares, that violence will not be the end of us. In following Christ, in picking up a cross, we can reshape this world with God’s help.

And yes, we are only a few. There are few people who pick up crosses, and the swords of this world are many and great. But in the face of such things, I am reminded of the poetic words of Tennessee Williams “The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.”

So lets not fear, lets follow. We’ll find crosses, lets pick them up. Jesus has laid it all out for us: there will be swords, there will be slander, there will be tough patches on this journey with Christ. But God walks with us, walks this path beside. God tells us not to fear, for what do we fear when God is near? With God’s help, we violets can break those mountain rocks.

The last verse of that hymn The Summons says it well:

“Lord, your summons echoes true when you but call my name. Let me turn and follow you and never be the same. In your company I’ll go where you love and footsteps show. Thus I’ll move, and live, and grow in you and you in me.”

Do not fear. God has erased all fear. Follow.

Sermon: Third Sunday after Pentecost 6.1.08

Timothy Brown

Edgebrook Lutheran Church

June 1, 2008

Third Sunday after Pentecost

Matthew 7:21–29

²¹Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. ²²On that day many will say to me, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?' ²³Then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.'
²⁴Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. ²⁵The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. ²⁶And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. ²⁷The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell — and great was its fall!"
²⁸Now when Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were astounded at his teaching, ²⁹for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes.

Foundations

The robber stepped into the bank and said, “Alright, this is a stick up!”

He told the teller in front of him, “Alright, give me all your money!”

The teller did so, and when he was done he asked her, “Did you see my face?”

The teller nodded sheepishly, and so the robber locked her in the bank vault that couldn’t be easily opened.

Then the robber turned to the lady behind him and said, “Did you see my face?” The woman said, “Uh-huh. But my husband did!”

Now, you have to wonder about that relationship. What is that based on?

Today’s gospel message is about relationships. As much as it sounds like it’s about architecture, it’s actually about relationships. Our relationship to God.

And how to describe our relationship to God, our interaction with the Divine? One of the most Godly relationships that I’ve ever witnessed, and I use that term Godly not to describe the moral or ethical character, but rather the simple interaction. One of the most Godly relationships that I’ve ever witnessed was between Tim and Josh.

As I looked over my list of campers, I scanned their profiles for anything that I might have to keep in mind for the week. And there they were: Tim and Josh. Both from the same town, but this was Tim’s first time at camp. Josh had been here before. In fact, Josh had been coming to camp ever since he was in fourth grade. Now an eighth grader, this would probably be his last year.

And Josh was a sweet kid who lived with epilepsy. His medical condition caused him quite a bit of anxiety, and so it’s even a wonder that Josh ever made it through camp at all because his anxiety issues made it difficult for him to be ok with not knowing what was happening next.

A car drove up, and out stepped Josh: tall and gangly, rail thin. Behind him was the new camper, Tim, Josh’s exact opposite: shorter, rounder. They gave their parents a hug, and came tromping over to the cabin. They made their beds and got settled as we waited for more campers.

And then I heard it. It started as a small tear down the cheek and soon became a full fledged heaving, sobbing mess. It was Tim’s first time away from home; that can be scary. The moment Tim started crying, Josh went over and sat down right next to him and put his arm around him.

“It’ll be ok, Tim. We’re going to have tons of fun swimming, rock climbing, hiking, kayaking. Camp is great! You’re going to love it here.”

And I stood back in amazement. Tim was young, energetic, athletic. He was a perfect fit for our camp. Josh was thin, on constant medication. He wasn’t even able to do some of the things he mentioned to Tim. He couldn’t go for extended hikes. He couldn’t rock-climb. And here he was, totally selfless, totally absorbed with nothing but comforting and supporting Tim.

Later on in the week our camping group did go on an extended hike. Half way through our journey, Josh doubled over. I saw the signs right away: he was going to seize. We moved the campers away from him to the side, and Tim and I knelt over him. And Tim did the most amazing thing: he cradled Josh’s head in his lap and sat with him, stroking his head. “It’s ok,” he said. “It’s ok.”

As Josh moved between seizes, we were finally able to transport him out of the woods. The whole time, Tim sat with him, stroked his head, and reassured him that everything was going to be alright. He had no other concern, totally selfless, totally absorbed with nothing but comforting and supporting Josh.

To make it through camp, Tim and Josh were each other’s sure foundation; unmoving, unfaltering, unchanging.

In today’s gospel Jesus says to his disciples, says to us: “Be wise. Build your entire life on a solid foundation. When the winds blow, when storm surges, you need solid ground. I am that ground, I am that foundation.”

You see, God wants us to build our lives on a foundation that will last in a world where things don’t last.

Sometimes we build our lives on financial success. Pastor Stephen Crotts, author and campus pastor in North Carolina, tells of one time when he went to visit a parishioner who had just suffered a major financial setback.

He writes:

I once visited a man who had just suffered a drastic financial setback. Crushed from the economic loss the man cried, "Everything is gone! Gone! It's all lost!" Without hesitation, I said, "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that your wife is dead." The man looked up at me in alarm. "My wife?" I continued, "And I'm doubly sad to hear that you have lost your children!" "My children?" the man whispered. "And, oh, how it pains me to learn you've lost your character, your church, your friends, and your God, Christ!" The man protested, saying he'd lost none of those things I'd mentioned. "But I thought you said you'd lost everything!"

After all, money can buy a bed, but not sleep; books, but not wisdom; a harlot, but not love; food, but not appetite; sin's pleasures, but not salvation's peace. It can buy a house, but not a home; medicine, but not health; notoriety, but not character.

You see that person, although he had not really lost everything, had built his foundation on his fortune.

Sometimes we build our lives solely on the foundation of others. And, let me be clear, we need others in our lives as our rocks, as our solid grounds. But even others falter and fail. I remember a friend of mine hat built his faith on his pastor. His pastor shepherded a congregation of thousands, and my friend was faithful as long as that pastor was faithful. And then it came out that the pastor had embezzled millions. My friend’s world, his faith, came tumbling down in one fell swoop.

Sometimes we build our lives solely on ourselves. And this, my friends, is most often the case. We are beautiful and good. We are wonderfully made, each one of us, in the image of God with unique gifts and abilities. But even we fail ourselves sometimes. As Paul says, “All sin and fall short of the glory of God.” As good and as beautiful as we are, sin continues to creep in our lives, and we even betray ourselves, doing what we wish we did not, doing what we desire not to.

Even we are shifting sand.

But God is not. God in Jesus has shown us that, through every trial and tribulation, through every joy and elation, God is nearby. Near enough as bread and wine, water and word. Near enough as the shoulder or lap of a friend. Near enough as Tim was to Josh.

To make it through life, Jesus is our sure foundation.

God is not going to throw you in a bank vault; God is not going to throw you away. God wants you to call, to build your house upon the love of the cross, the love shown to you through Jesus Christ. Use nails of joy, 2x4’s of peace, and a roof of assurance to build your life on the God who continues to meet you, no matter what storms are brewing. The God who comforts you when you weep, who walks with you in joys, and who rests your head on a lap of grace when we seize at last.

Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hid myself in thee.

May the Rock of Ages be your sure foundation today and every day.

Amen.

Sermon: Ascension Sunday 5.4.08

Edgebrook Lutheran Church

May 4, 2008

Seventh Sunday of Easter

Acts 1:1–11

In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning ²until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. ³After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. ⁴While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father. "This," he said, "is what you have heard from me; ⁵for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now."
⁶So when they had come together, they asked him, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" ⁷He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. ⁸But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." ⁹When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. ¹⁰While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. ¹¹They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven."

What are we, then, to do?

Can I get a witness?

I said, can I get a witness?

You know, on the South Side where I live, that question gets a slightly different response. Our Lutheran brothers and sisters on the South Side shout “Amen!” or “Yes you can.”

Most of the time, if you were to ask me, “Can I get a witness?” I’d probably say, “What for? Are we going to court?”

But I think that Jesus in today’s Acts reading probably yelled that out at some point as he was ascending into heaven. I mean, Luke doesn’t record it in there, but I think he probably said, “Can I get a witness?” sometime in there.

Because that’s what we’re left with: witnesses.

Today we celebrate the ascension of our Lord. Not much is known about Jesus ascension, and even Luke isn’t really clear on what’s going on. What we do know is that Jesus was with his disciples for 40 days after his resurrection, and then he didn’t show up in the bodily presence anymore. Instead, he spoke of this new way that God was going to be with people, in the paraclete, the Advocate, the Ruah that we spoke of last week. The Holy Spirit.

And today we find these disciples, having been promised the Holy Spirit, having been promised that Jesus would come back again, and they’re staring up into heaven waiting for it to come as if it’s going to happen right now, right away.

And I bet, I bet for a moment there they wondered what they were to do next. I bet, I bet for a moment there, they had a twinge of sadness because this experience with God that they’d been having through the person of Jesus had come to an end.

And how to express that?

Shel Silverstein, at the end of his book of poetry “Where the Sidewalk Ends” has one final poem that reads:

“I went to find the pot of gold

That’s waiting where the rainbow ends.

I searched and searched and searched and searched

And searched and searched and then

There it was, deep in the grass

Under an old and twisty bough

It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine at last…

What do I search for now?”

“What do I search for now?” is probably just the question that those disciples were asking themselves as they stared off into space.

And the only thing that brings them back to reality, that brings them back to action from staring up at heaven are these two people that show up in dazzling clothes.

“What are you doing looking up at heaven? He’ll come back; he promised. The Holy Spirit will come upon you; he promised. But now, there’s work to be done!”

Now, there’s work to be done.

You see, the experience that they had with God, the experiences that we have with God through the gift of the Holy Spirit is not some pot of gold to be found at the end of a spiritual journey. The experience is the journey.

And that is why we don’t stop with just the Gospels in our New Testament texts. The experiences with God continued even after Jesus was no longer bodily present. And so, what are the disciples to do now that Jesus is not bodily present, what are we to do now that Jesus is not bodily present?

Well, we’re not supposed to just stand around looking up at space, waiting for it to happen again. That, according to these two people in dazzling clothes, these two “new people” as the Greek literally calls them reminds the disciples, and reminds us.

We’re about to leave the season of Easter. We’re about to head into spring. We’re about to have life slow down just a little bit. It won’t be the same.

But listen to these people in dazzling white: the work is not done. God’s spirit, God’s indwelling presence is still here, and so our encounters with God continue to happen.

And we can’t be silent about that. We can’t be silent about our experiences with God, our experiences with the God made known in Jesus Christ.

We need to be witnesses! God has made God’s self known to us, and so we need to be witnesses to the fact that God is at work in this world bringing salvation in the here and now.

So, what does it mean to be a witness?

James Mulholland, a Quaker minster, writes in his book “If Grace is True” about one of his first sermons as a preacher. It was at an inner city mission. He says,

“I watched about fifty men, many mentally ill or drunk, herded into a dingy chapel. They mumbled the words to a familiar hymn, yawned through the prayers, and seemed oblivious to the words I’d labored over so carefully. I pleaded with them to accept Christ and experience his grace. No one responded. Afterward, I turned to one of the workers and said, “Well, that was hopeless.”

Then the worker smiled back at him and said, “I used to be one of them.”

Who was the witness there? A witness is the one who says, “The world is ending? Oh, yeah, I used to think that. I’m all alone in this world? Oh yeah, I used to believe that. There is no God, we’re water and some trace elements? Oh yeah, I used to hold on to that. But then…

But then God spoke to me in Scripture. But then the Holy Spirit stirred me to faith. But then I realized that the breath of God moves through humanity like a wind over grass. But then I was baptized into the faith, held by a God, sealed by the Holy Spirit, marked with the cross of Christ forever.

When we have church, when we witness to the encounter that God has had upon us, “I used to be one of them” is not an unfamiliar response. God changes things yet today, and so we cannot keep looking to heaven waiting for eventual salvation, for as those “new people” in dazzling clothes remind us, there is so much salvation to be witnessed to here around us.

So, can I get a witness?

Amen.

Sermon: 6th Sunday after Easter 4.27.08

Edgebrook Lutheran Church

April 27, 2008

Sixth Sunday of Easter

Gospel John 14:15–21

⁵If you love me, you will keep my commandments. ¹⁶And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. ¹⁷This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.
¹⁸I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. ¹⁹In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. ²⁰On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. ²¹They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them."

You Promised

Every summer during college I worked as a camp counselor. The camp was named “Kirchenwald” which means “church in the woods.” At the end of each camping week, the entire camp would play a game called Capture the Flag. It was a great game because the whole camp, from second graders to high schoolers, would play. We would split the camp into two teams, and each take a field to defend our flag. I would assemble the team on my field together and attempt to make some strategies. We did, after all, want to win.

At the end of one of these strategic sessions one week, a fourth grader said, “Tim, I think we should pray that the Holy Spirit enter our shoes so we can run faster than the other team!” I looked down at little Sarah and said, “Sarah, God doesn’t work that way.” She looked right up at me and said, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not God or we’d never win!”

And she’s right, of course. It is a good thing I’m not God. It is a good thing that God is more complicated than the small box that I tried to put God in when talking to Sarah.

Today we receive a promise, we receive a reminder, that God is complicated, more complicated than you and I can possibly imagine. This is not means for alarm. This is not means for despair. This is means for glory. You see, we glory that God is complicated in word and deed, in action and structure, because that too is a reminder that God is at work in ways we don't understand. And today is just an example of that.

In today's gospel message we have Jesus finishing the speech that he started last week. It a speech of "final things." If you'll remember, last week Jesus reminded his disciples, and therefore us, that he is "the way, the truth, and the life." Today he tells them something new.

In this last half of the speech, he makes a different statement.

In this last half of that speech, that speech he gives them right before he is going to eat dinner with them, be arrested, be crucified, and rise again. In this last half of the speech that he gives before they are going to get a complete shock: the death of their rabbi. Before they are going to get a complete upheaval of their life's trajectory. In this speech, before he leaves them for the cross of Golgotha, he gives them a promise.

"The Father will give you another Advocate to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth."

The Spirit of truth. The Advocate.

Or, as we say, the Holy Spirit. God's indwelling nature in creation, in humanity, in this world. God's emotional side, as I like to say it. That side of God that nudges us, pushes us, protects, and yes, advocates for us. Jesus promises his disciples that he will send his "indwelling spirit" to be not only with them, but in them.

In us.

As good Lutherans, we beg the question, What does this mean?

Well, you must know that this emotional side of God, this Spirit of indwelling is not new to Scripture. Jesus is not introducing a new idea to the disciples, although I'm not sure they recognized that.

You see, in Old Testament scripture, this Spirit of truth, this Advocate, this indwelling spirit of God is mentioned quite a bit. Her name is Ruah. Yes, that's right, it's a she. Ruah, God's Ruah , God's wisdom is a "she" because Hebrew is a gendered language, and Ruah, which actually means "breathe" in Hebrew, is feminine. Now, in Greek it's Paraclete, which is neither feminine or masculine, and in Latin its Spiritus which is definitely masculine. So, you see, the switch from feminine to masculine in speaking about God is not original to the text. God's Spirit was originally thought of as Ruah, as she that indwells.

And so Jesus is promising that, although it may look like he's gone, God is not. Although it may look like there is no light in this world, there is. The Ruah, the Paraclete, the Spirit of God is with them.

But how will they know? How will we know that the spirit of God is with us? Because, I think this is one part of the tradition that I think we take for granted…or don't take at all.

Do we look for the Holy Spirit, the Ruah of God, the breathe of God working in our world? In our creation? Do we look for the Advocate?

Perhaps we do, but it's hard. It's hard to tell what is breathe of God and what is just wind. It's hard to tell what is the Spirit of God and what, as my grandmother used to say, is just "indigestion."

It was early in the morning on July 4^th of last year when my beeper went off. I rolled over on the small bed that the hospital provided for me. ED, my beeper said. So I called down to the Emergency Room Department.

"Hi Father, you're needed down here right away, please." I glanced at my watch, it was 4:28 am. "Give me five minutes," I muttered. "Ok, please be quick."

So I put on my collar, grabbed my Bible, and headed toward the elevators.

As the doors opened, and walked down the Northwestern hallway, the ED was as busy as I'd ever seen it. July 4^th. A lot of accidents. I entered trauma one, pulled back the curtain, and saw a young man, my age, lying on the stretcher. His mother was weeping uncontrollably over his cold body, his father rubbing her shoulders. There were sisters and brothers, about four siblings, crowded around the bed.

When I entered, the mother looked up and she said, "Padre, Padre, pardone, pardone." She only spoke Spanish, and my Spanish was not enough to communicate fully. But the sister translated, and I knew what I had to do.

I went over to the sink, drew some water, blessed the water, and joined the family around the young man. I blessed his head with a cross, blessed his hands with a cross, and there, under those harsh lights of the trauma room, we all said good bye to this young man. This young man who, just hours before was splashing in Lake Michigan, jumping off his father's boat. One flip too many in those early morning hours, and he hit his head on the side as he jumped.

And here we were, saying goodbye, commending him and the family around to God's care, to God's comfort. As we were praying and going through the liturgy, nurses and EMT's came in and joined our circle. One nurse held the mother in her arms. An EMT wrapped his arm around the youngest sibling there, rubbing her shoulder, and we all prayed and cried together.

Afterwards I went up to the chapel at the hospital. It was dark. I was alone in there. And I let God have it. Where was the God that could still the waters? Where was the God that could part the sea? Where was the God who promised the Advocate, who promised protection, to that young man down there? To that mother, who's only words she could mutter when she saw me was, "forgive him. Forgive him!"

Where was God there?

And then I sat, exhausted. And I remembered the nurse, holding the mother in her arms. I remembered the EMT, a large burly guy, rubbing the shoulder of that young sibling. I remembered the water, that blessed water, that baptismal water, running over the head and the hands of the young man as a sign that he, still, and especially now, was a child of God.

And I that’s when I experience Ruah. I saw the Advocate. I saw the great helper, the comforter, the promised one to be with us. It was a glimpse. It was in the form of a love that moved past the emergency room to cut to the heart of the pain there. And it was God.

You see, Jesus is about to leave his disciples. Jesus is about to die, and I have no doubt that those disciples were going to go back and curse God, shake their fists in the air, and say, "You promised!"

You promised.

And so, here, today, before any of that happens, Jesus promises them that, no matter what it looks like, God is with them, indwelling, moving, shaking, advocating, helping. Breathing in them, with them, and for them.

And I think there was good reason for this promise now, because, even when we try to look for God's Spirit, God's breathe working in this world, we often come up questioning what we are seeing. It is only later, only in the aftermath, only in the resurrection period and afterward, that we remember where God was.

And so Jesus gives his disciples, gives us, the promise before hand. It's given so that we can trust that God is present, God is working, God is indwelling in us despite what it might look like around us. It's a promise that will carry us through those times, that will carry us through those hours of darkness, of loneliness, those hours when we look up at the cross and say, "You promised!"

It's given to those disciples, to us, to be our comforter and our advocate because it is only later that we can see it.

God the Spirit is at work in our world, is at work in us. We may not see it now, but I bet we'll see it in retrospect. I bet we'll see it later. So lets trust it now, and look for it later.

Amen.

Sermon: The Fifth Sunday in Easter 4.20.08

John 14:1-14

Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. ²In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? ³And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. ⁴And you know the way to the place where I am going." ⁵Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" ⁶Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. ⁷If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him."
⁸Philip said to him, "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied." ⁹Jesus said to him, "Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, 'Show us the Father'? ¹⁰Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. ¹¹Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. ¹²Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. ¹³I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. ¹⁴If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

Ego Ami

Today Jesus makes quite a bold claim for us in this Gospel reading from John:

"I am the way, the truth, and the life."

What a bold claim, the "ego ami," that phrase the John associates with Jesus so much, connecting Jesus to God at the burning bush in Exodus. "I am that I am" God says there. "Ego ami" Jesus says here.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life."

But do we approach it that way? Do we approach our faith, our religion, our quest to seek the "otherness" of God allowing God in Jesus to speak first, to make this claim of pathway, truth, and life first?

Author A.J. Jacobs wrote a memoir entitled, "My Year of Living Biblically" in which he attempts to follow all of the laws from the New and Old Testaments for an entire year. Now, Jacobs himself comes from a Jewish family, but he is a marginal participator in religion at best. High festival days receive some attention, but he never goes to temple and readily admits so.

But in his year of living Biblically, he begins to see his life transformed by the practices that he picks up. He prays three times a day and, although it's uncomfortable, and although he's not even sure what he's praying to, he finds that the practice itself is beneficial, regular, spiritual, in fact. And he even starts to have moments, glimpses, and times when he begins to believe in God, he begins to believe that there is more out there than just atoms that change over time, but an actual God who is changing them.

n this journey with faith, he has many advisors and spiritual helpers that he consults on a regular basis. One is his best friend's father, who just happens to be a retired Lutheran pastor.

One day they're sitting down to eat and he says to the pastor, "You know, this practice has been a really great experience. I feel healthier, I feel less cynical, I feel…faithful. Perhaps I should take up religion just because it's better for me and better for my children."

The pastor sips his coffee slowly, takes a swig, and puts it back down. And then he looks A.J. in the eye and says, "I don't think that's a very good reason to believe. Belief in God should come from somewhere more…organic."

Faith in God should come from somewhere more organic. You see, as much as I agree with A.J. that faith is good for our bodies as well as our souls, good for our minds as well as our hearts, belief cannot come when we place ourselves first in the equation. In the end I always agree with that pastor

Have you ever been talking with someone, telling them a story about what happened to you, a really pivotal, exciting story, and you end it and the first words out of their mouth, "Oh yeah? I've got a better one, guess what happened to me…"

Or you've had that relationship, that friend that always takes and takes and takes, and never gives. They suck the life out of you, every living breath to the point where the relationship breaks, you can't take it anymore.

You see, those conversations don't work, one party always goes away jaded. Those relationships don't work because one party always ends up having enough of it.

So why do we think it will work with our faith life? Why do we think that we can look up to God and say to God, "Ego Ami" I am the important party in this relationship. What are you going to give me? What are you going to do for me? What am I going to get out of following your way, your truth, your life?

Faith has to be more organic than that. It has to come from the roots of history, experience, of being. It has to come allowing God in Jesus to speak the word first. It has to come by allowing God to be God, allowing Jesus to be God. It has to come by hearing Jesus say, Ego Ami! And us not trying to refute it.

And we do refute it. Unfortunately we refute it too often, and we don't like to hear that. We don't like to be convicted of that, but it's true. I mean, look at today. Earth Day. We've had to set up an entire day of consciousness to remind us that we live on Earth and should take care of it.

And why did we do that? Because we've looked at the Earth, this habitat that God has given us, and have said "Ego Ami". I am the Lord of this Earth. I can rape, pillage, and plunder it like I want. I can deforest it until it's nothing but an arid wasteland. I don't have to let the fields lie fallow every seven years. I don't have kill animals ethically, "Ego Ami" I am the god of creation.

But we are not Lord's of the earth, su ei, you are the Lord of the Earth, I am just a steward.

And that is the humility with which I think we need to re-approach faith, religion, and our quest for the "otherness" of God. We come here each week first and foremost to worship God. Yes we receive blessing here. Yes we receive spiritual food here. But first and foremost God speaks to us here, Ego Ami, I am that I am. Jesus speaks to us here, Ego Ami, I am the way, the truth, and the life.

And as a church, that is our mission and our goal. You know, as you search around church websites, both Lutheran and non-Lutheran, I often see a button the home page that I just despise. The button is often entitled, "What we offer." And I know it means well, but, my God, if I click on it and it doesn't say "a relationship with God in Jesus Christ" it's off the mark.

We must have God in Jesus as first and foremost in our programming, in our worship offerings, in all that we do here, God must speak the first word! Ego Ami! And we must speak only secondarily, Su ei, you are God and because you are God we seek you, we desire you, we want our children and grandchildren to know you, to love you, to be healed by and in you.

Su ei.

Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. Given to us that we might believe, that we might be in relationship with God. But given to us first by God and for that, my friends, we give praise to God, we worship God, we adore God.

So come, Jesus is speaking a word, "Ego Ami" I Am. We follow that voice and not our own. Amen.

As Spring and Easter Converge...

"Long, long, long ago;
Way before this winter's snow
First fell upon these weathered fields;
I used to sit and watch and feel
And dream of how the spring would be,
When through the winter's stormy sea
She'd raise her green and growing head,
Her warmth would resurrect the dead.

Long before this winter's snow
I dreamt of this day's sunny glow
And thought somehow my pain would pass
With winter's pain, and peace like grass
Would simply grow. The pain's not gone
It's still as cold and hard and long
As lonely pain has ever been,
It cuts so deep and far within.

Long before this winter's snow
I ran from pain, looked high and low
For some fast way to get around
Its hurt and cold. I'd have found,
If I had looked at what was there,
That things don't follow fast or fair.
That life goes on, and times do change,
And grass does grow despite life's pains.

Long before this winter's snow
I though that this day's sunny glow,
The smiling children and growing things
And flowers bright were brought by spring
Now, I know the sun does shine,
That children smile, and from the dark, cold, grime
A flower comes. It groans, yet sings,
And through its pain, its peace begins.
-"Resurrection" by Mary Ann Bernard

Sermon: Great Easter Vigil at Sunrise

John 20:1-18

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. ²So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." ³Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. ⁴The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. ⁵He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. ⁶Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, ⁷and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. ⁸Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; ⁹for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. ¹⁰Then the disciples returned to their homes.
¹¹But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; ¹²and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. ¹³They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." ¹⁴When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. ¹⁵Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." ¹⁶Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). ¹⁷Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" ¹⁸Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Live Boldly

“O what a beautiful morning, O what a beautiful day. I’ve got a beautiful feelin,’ everything’s going God’s way.”

They sang that song every morning on the trail when I was riding with the cattle through Eastern Ohio. Those ranch-hands always thought it was funny to wake us up in that way, even though we were miles away from Oklahoma, and while mildly annoying so early in the morning, I can’t imagine another morning where it would be more appropriate.

Easter morning! It’s an exciting time. It’s a time when we can really exclaim, really celebrate in fullness that God has kept the promise, that God has taken away death’s sting, that God has moved past death into a new life.

And it is exciting! Exciting enough to wake up before the sun, to show even the sun, even all of creation, that this day is worth getting up early for, worth celebrating even in the darkness before dawn.

Because that is, after all, when all of this began. John’s Gospel puts Mary coming very early in the morning to the tomb. She comes “in darkness,” as the text says, “to look at the tomb.” Now that word “look” is very deceiving in the English. In the Greek it’s much better.

You see, in the Greek it is clear that Mary isn’t coming just to “look” at the tomb, she’s coming to “study” the tomb, to contemplate it, to meditate on it, to dissect it mentally. In the early morning, in the darkness of the morning, even in the darkness of her faith (after all, her Rabbi has just been murdered), she comes to study what has happened.

She comes in the darkness to study her faith.

And why are you all here? Well, that’s kind of an unfair question, as we know the end of the story. But really, we should be here to study our faith, to dissect, to meditate, to contemplate the tomb. Because, it is in coming in that way that we are truly surprised again.

And Mary is surprised. So surprised, in fact, that she doesn’t have time to meditate and study the tomb. The whole place is in shambles! The stone is rolled away, the body is missing; its all gone. She has come in quiet to dissect, and the quiet morning turns into a whirlwind of activity.

And she runs to the other disciples, and they run to see the tomb as well. They also find things in shambles, but quickly make their exit. After all, they don’t want to be accused of stealing the body. They had to get out of there.

But not Mary. No. Mary stays. The Gospel of John has Mary staying by the tomb. She is going to study the tomb, like she first set out to do. And so she sits and she cries by the tomb. These are tears that probably would have come whether or not the tomb was empty, because she is doubly grieved now. Not only did they kill her Rabbi, they’ve now taken his body. And so she sits at this grave in the middle of a garden, and weeps as she studies.

But this is not the first time there has been weeping in a garden. In the book of Genesis, we find God in the garden, weeping with Adam and Eve as they have first sinned. Weeping because creation can no longer be innocent. Weeping because the relationship between humanity and the creator had been torn asunder. But instead of a tomb stone, a flaming sword would close this tomb.

And even the night before there was weeping in the garden, as Jesus sat at Gethsemane, wondering what was going to happen next. Crying because all was about to fall apart. And as those soldiers approached with flaming torches, Jesus knew that his relationship with his disciples would be torn asunder, as they all fled and Peter denied him.

It seems that gardens and crying go together. So when we find Mary weeping in the garden, with her plans to meditate, to contemplate, to peacefully grieve over her Rabbi, her Master, her Jesus torn asunder, we should not be surprised.

But then enters the Gardner.

In John, Mary is sitting by the tomb, and Jesus comes up behind her. But Mary doesn’t know it’s him. She thinks it’s the Gardner. Mary mistakes Jesus for the Gardner and says to him, “Please sir, if you’ve taken the body, tell me where it is.” She actually asks him if he’s taken the body. Oh, how funny. How funny! Because you see, Jesus is the Gardner and he has taken the body! It is him.

But Mary doesn’t know it until.

But Mary doesn’t know it until he calls her name.

All Jesus says is “Mary.”

All he has to say is her name.

And in that calling, in mentioning Mary’s name, in calling Mary by her name, every relationship that was torn asunder is suddenly mended.

The fall in Eden, the betrayal in the Garden of Gethsemane, the death on the cross, the strained relationship of humanity as a whole, with us, with our own strained relationships are suddenly mended with the love of God. Because God knows our name, just as he knows Mary’s name, and calls to us past death into a new life.

And Mary, who had come to weep, who had come to meditate on death, is now raised to new life.

And imagine it, an actual raising. I can imagine Mary sitting, weeping, and turning. Jesus calls her by name and she can’t help it, can’t help but get up. Can’t help but rise from where she is to run and meet the God who knows her by name, who has called her from her tears of sadness into tears of joy.

She can’t help it! That’s God’s way!

And she can’t keep it to herself either, she must tell the other disciples. And she is bursting with the news. You can tell because, when she meets the other disciples the only words she can utter are, “I have seen the Lord!”

Bursting, just bursting with the news of God. In the resurrection of Christ, she too has risen to a new life. A life of proclamation, not of tears. A life of contemplating how God moved from death to life, not how everything died before her eyes.

And that is the way of God this morning. That is what we celebrate in such a grand fashion this morning. We celebrate the ultimate bursting of God, bursting from that tomb, the grace of God, which has overflowed in our lives to repair what is torn asunder.

And we are no stranger to weeping in gardens. We’ve wept in the gardens of life all too often. Over relationships torn asunder. Over dreams long buried. Over friends and loved ones.

But on this day. On this day we are reminded that Jesus Christ has beaten death, has repaired the irreparable, that God is working God’s way! On this day we are reminded that we are also raised with Jesus Christ, and with Mary, from that place and brought into a new understanding, a new meditation, a new garden of Eden where we are called by name and loved just the same.

And at hearing this, we cannot help, we cannot help but burst with the news. We cannot help but live! Truly live! Truly live as Christ truly lived on that fateful Sunday morning.

And what does it mean to truly live? I think Mary gives us a great example. It means that we run to share what we have seen and heard about God.

But how? There is another image I want to give you this morning as well.

There is a story about St. Francis. Later in his ministry with the poorest of poor, it is said he walked up to an almond tree in the dead of winter and spoke to it. He said to the tree, “Speak to me about God.”

And it is said that the tree immediately began to bloom.

In the dead of winter, it began to bloom.

Easter is here to remind us that to speak about God means to bloom, to burst, with the news of aliveness. Even in the deadest of winter, even in the gloomiest of tombs, Easter reminds us once again that God is blooming! And that we are blooming!

So, people of God, this morning know that everything is going God’s way. So live boldly! And go, bloom for the world, telling others, bursting with joy, that Jesus Christ is living again! Amen.

Sermon: Palm Sunday 3.16.08

Matthew 21:1–11

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, ²saying to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. ³If anyone says anything to you, just say this, 'The Lord needs them.' And he will send them immediately." ⁴This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,
⁵"Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
humble, and mounted on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey."
⁶The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; ⁷they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. ⁸A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. ⁹The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
"Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!"
¹⁰When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?" ¹¹The crowds were saying, "This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee."

What Revolution?

You know, to many folks, even some sitting here today, what we just did is pretty unusual. Comical, even. And I have a feeling it would have been slightly comical to those people in Jerusalem who were standing by the side of that road, watching this event happen some two thousand years ago.

Here comes this great processional! Rider and steed, attendants and arms, marching through the city streets to pomp and fanfare. Only, the processional isn’t that great. It’s a rider and donkey. There are attendants, but they aren’t robed in shiny armor, they don’t carry huge blades, spears, and pilates like the Roman soldiers of Pilate.

No, they’re a pretty sad lot walking into Jerusalem that day. Simple robes. Simple donkey. Simple announcement. No trumpets. No fanfare. No show of military or political power. Just…simple.

But that’s precisely the point.

You know, there are some scholars out there who think that this whole parade, this procession of palms, was actually a purposeful political joke Jesus was playing on the Roman government. You see, when a Roman governor or senator, or anyone with power, entered a city, they would often make a spectacle of it.

They would ride in on a grand steed, often a white steed, robed in armor and full cape. They would have attendants and servants flanking them, and going before and after, shouting out their name and calling attention to them. “Look! Here comes the great Herod.” Or “Look! Here comes the great Pilate, prelate of his majesty Ceaser!” And people would flock to the road to watch the procession. It was free entertainment.

So imagine the shock, imagine the surprise, imagine, even, the comical scene of Jesus astride a donkey entering the city. Except, this time, Jesus doesn’t come in the name of a Roman official, he doesn’t come in the name of some taxing politician, Jesus comes in the name of the Lord! Jesus comes in the name of the God who called David, their ancestor, to kingship. That same God who now calls Jesus to kingship. Kingship in spite of the rule of Herod, in spite of the rule of Pilate, in spite of the rule of Ceaser himself!

And the people, at first coming to see this comical scene, this person who comes in the name of the Lord, this man who comes not on a steed, but a donkey, not with a procession, but with a ragtag group of blue-collar workers, now start to wonder if this is actually it. They see the signs. They start to wonder if this is the beginning the revolution, the beginning of the new Zion.

And it is. But not as they want it to be. But not as they expect it to be. Jesus will be not just a revolutionary political figure, not just a revolutionary religious leader. Jesus will be the revolutionary God that they sought to know.

But, it will all happen in the shadows. It will all happen in that hidden way that God works. It will all happen in the opposite of how you think it should be.

You know, God works in mystery. God works in opposites. Here, as Lutherans, we truly believe this. Explain how a man riding in to town on a donkey is king, when there are tons of actual kings with actual power riding in on actual steeds every other week. Explain how the death of a 160 lb Jewish guy on a cross is actually the pivotal hinge that will change the trajectory of the world. Explain how God would give up power to die in solidarity with humanity, just so we could move past death to true life.

It can only be explained in paradox and mystery. It can only be explained in stating the fact that God is at work, as a weaver at a loom, stitching the lives of the world thread by thread. And individually, the threads don’t look like much, but there is a wonderful tapestry of salvation being woven.

Today we celebrate a thread of that tapestry, Jesus’ triumphant, if mysterious, if even comical, ride into Jerusalem, showing without a doubt, that God is not about white horses and armor clad guards, but about humility and greenery, about Hosannas and mystery.

As we head into holy week, let us take a look at our own lives. Are we about the things of God? Are we about humility and greenery, Hosannas and Alleluias? Do we look for God in the paradoxes, the mysteries of life? Or are we banking on white steeds and feats of power?

The Good News is, God in Jesus works in mystery. And the man who humbly rides on a donkey, is the powerful God who is beginning a revolution: the revolution of our hearts, of our minds, of our being to be united in God’s love.

The revolution of creation being brought back into relationship with God once again.

And that, my friends, is a revolution worth getting behind. That, my friends, is a revolution that will draw you in, as God’s love is shown this week in paradox, in opposites, in mystery. That, my friends, is truly good news.

Amen.

Sermon: 2nd Sunday in Lent

Genesis 12:1-4a

Romans 4:1-5,13-17

John 3:1-17

Re-Hearing the Promise

I had this sermon all worked out before I saw the flickering lights.

I had this sermon all worked out, all prepared. The background of each of the texts, the historical context laid out plain for you to hear. To appreciate. To use as a guide.

I had this sermon all worked out, all prepared, before I saw the flickering lights.

They were lights that flickered about 65 miles west of hear on Thursday night.

Valentines day.

We were listening intently to the radio as we drove to the restaurant. We listened intently to it after dinner as well.

On 780, on 91.5. And when we got home, on ABC, CBS, Fox. There it was. Those flickering lights.

You see, to dig at the heart of texts, you need to know the historical context. To hear a text as it was first heard, it is important to know that Genesis was written by at least five writers, most probably royal court scribes. It is important to know that Paul was writing to a church in the midst of a schism in Rome, the Jewish-Christians and the Gentile-Christians fighting amongst themselves.

And it is important to know that the Gospel of John was written somewhere around 96 AD, almost 66 years after Jesus died.

These are important things to know to get at the heart of a text, to hear the heart of a text.

But on Valentines Day, I think it is safe to say that our hearts were not into knowing about 66 AD, or the Yawhist redaction of Genesis, or the impetus to Paul's letter to Rome.

Our hearts were in DeKalb, 65 miles west of here. Our hearts still are, in many ways.

And so, I had to relook at these texts. I had to revision them, re-hear them with my heart in DeKalb. After all, the historical context of a work is all well and good, it helps my mind to know many things. But how am I to go out of here working with my hands and my heart if these scripture readings don't speak to OUR context. To OUR hearts, in DeKalb.

And they do speak to it.

Because, as I re-read these text from that vantage point, I heard something that I didn't hear before. I re-heard the promise.

The first two readings are reminders for us again that God is in the blessing business. Hearing both about Abram, and about Paul, you will be reminded that God is faithful to us, bringing about blessing not because we have done what we were supposed to do, but because God remains God! And God blesses. And even as I would like to give you more on these two readings, I can't this morning. I can't because we must move forward to the Gospel. In these times, the Gospel is paramount, the Gospel must be heard, the Gospel is what truly speaks in these times.

In today's Gospel you will hear these words:

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."

You know those words. They've been written on our minds from the days of Catechism, from our earliest years. But they speak powerfully today.

They speak powerfully today because, as I heard Matt Lauer say on the "Today Show" Friday morning, "The massacre at NIU is a sign of the times." And I disagree.

That killing is not the sign of the times, but that cross is the sign of the times. Trucks and cars with that cross were the ones cleaning up the mess. Candles, flickering lights, shaped in that shape were standing vigil on Thursday night and Friday night, and even today.

That, people of God, is the sign that we must look to in these times because it is the sign of the times.

You know, those words of John 3:16 and 17 are spoken to us, yes. But in the book of John, they are spoken to a man named Nicodemus. Now, Nicodemus is a smart man. He's a Jewish leader, a member of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish High Counsel, but he is confused. We know he is confused because John says he "comes to Jesus in darkness." This darkness is not only a time of day. It is also an indicator into his spiritual sense. He's spiritually "in the dark."

And so what does Jesus do? Jesus tells him about the ways of God. You see, Nicodemus thinks he knows the ways of God. He sees Jesus healing people, doing miracles, all sorts of great things and immediately assumes that these are the ways that you can tell if someone is from God. But Jesus flips his ideas.

"To know the ways of God," Jesus says, "you must be born from above." Literally, that phrase "from above" in Greek is "anewthay" simply meaning "again." "To know the ways of God, you must be born again," he says. You must let go of the natural ways that you think you know the ways of God, and look at them from a different perspective- the perspective of someone who has simply heard the promise and received it. The perspective of someone who has been baptized, the promise that God loves us even though we have yet to do one thing.

Now, this is important for us to hear today. It's very easy for us to believe that God is blessing us when we can see good things happening. It's very easy for us to believe in God as miracle upon miracle comes our way.

But what about now? We come in darkness, like Nicodemus. We come confused. This is no blessing. 65 miles west of here on Valentines Day hearts were ripped from their homes. No blessing. There may be blessings in the aftermath, there may be blessings in the cleanup, in the inevitable coming together of the community. But that act was no blessing, and God was not in that act.

And, so what we need to hear again is that reminder that physical signs are not the ways of God. Despite what the physical reality may present us, God's promise still stands. God's blessing stands, even now because God has been to see death before, and God has come out the other side.

For God so loved the world that God stood with us in our darkest days of death, that God broke the chains that death has around our necks, that God rose from the grave even as God promises the blessing of a resurrection. God gives eternal life, even today. That is the gospel, and that is what we need to rehear again today.

Condemnation, destruction, these are not what God has in store for creation, despite what it might seem. And therefore they should not be what we as a people are about. Instead, God has in store for us new life. A new life found in the promise we hear in the waters at baptism.

Therefore, people of God, as Moses raised the bronze serpent in the desert to provide healing for those dying of poison, look now upon the Son of Man risen on the cross, risen from the tomb, risen in our hearts and our hands as we reach out to those students and families in DeKalb.

The good news is that God stands with us in the face of death, and stands with us as we rise from our tombs.

And that promise, that promise that God continues to bless us, even as we see things fall around us. That promise that God has been here before, been at the footstep of death on this cross before us, and has promised a resurrection on the other side of that.

That promise, that blessing, that cross…that empty tomb. That is the sign of the times. Hear it again today.

Amen.