Invitation to Abundant Life: Living in Light

Today and next week, we read two stories back to back that are a study in contrasts. 

Today, we hear about Nicodemus. A man. A Pharisee. A Jewish religious leader. Who comes to meet Jesus at night. Next week, you’ll hear the story of a woman. A Samaritan and an outsider. Who is unnamed. Who meets Jesus at noon - the brightest time of day. The conversation with Nicodemus in this week’s text will last for nine verses. The conversation with the unnamed woman next week will last for twenty-six verses.

But, today, our focus is the first person in this study in contrasts. Nicodemus. We begin today’s reading with the last two verses of last week’s text at the end of chapter 2. In the Greek these verses are much more closely connected to the beginning of the next chapter than they appear in English. They also foreshadow what we will hear today in this story about Nicodemus. So, we begin by reading these transitional verses and continue into chapter 3. We’re reading today in two parts.

While Jesus was in Jerusalem for the Passover Festival, many believed in his name because they saw the miraculous signs that he did. But Jesus didn’t trust himself to them because he knew all people. He didn’t need anyone to tell him about human nature, for he knew what human nature was.

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a Jewish leader. He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.”

Nicodemus asked, “How is it possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb for a second time and be born, isn’t it?”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. Whatever is born of the flesh is flesh, and whatever is born of the Spirit is spirit. Don’t be surprised that I said to you, ‘You must be born anew.’ God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

“Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? --John 2:23 - John 12 (CEB)

This play of light and darkness, of night and day, is a frequent theme in John. 

Remember the Prologue - “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Nicodemus comes in the dark. To come in the dark suggests, in John, one who comes in a state of unbelief. To come in the dark suggests that one neither understands, nor fully believes in who Jesus is.

There’s this back and forth dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus, who appears to be speaking on behalf of a group, perhaps the rest of the Pharisees. Perhaps the Jewish leaders. It’s not clear in our text. But, he’s come to find out more about Jesus. He asks honest questions. He’s seen the signs. So, he recognizes that this Jesus is one from God. But he misses that this Jesus is God.

Jesus doesn’t really help him out here. Nicodemus takes Jesus literally, when he says that he must be born anew. What? Are you saying I have to be put back in my mother’s womb again? This word in Greek actually has two simultaneous meanings. Born anew - referencing a physical change. And born from above - representing a spiritual change. Nicodemus doesn’t really get it. And Jesus doesn’t really help him out. Our minds immediately go to baptism. But, Nicodemus doesn’t have that connection. He won’t get it. Finishing the conversation with these words, “How is possible?”

It’s at this point that Jesus seems to turn from Nicodemus and address an audience. The pronoun you moves from the singular to the plural. Perhaps his words are for all of the Jewish leaders. Perhaps, his words are for all those who only believe in the signs, who lack a level of faith that leads to a complete change - a rebirth into a new community. And an entirely new way of life. 

Our story continues in verse 13.

No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human One be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him isn’t judged; whoever doesn’t believe in him is already judged, because they don’t believe in the name of God’s only Son.

“This is the basis for judgment: The light came into the world, and people loved darkness more than the light, for their actions are evil. All who do wicked things hate the light and don’t come to the light for fear that their actions will be exposed to the light. Whoever does the truth comes to the light so that it can be seen that their actions were done in God.” --John 3:13-21 (CEB)

In the midst of this, we hear what is likely the most famous verse in scripture. John 3:16. We hear this so often, it’s almost become meaningless to us, doesn’t it? But there are a couple of things to look at more closely here.

First, when we think of the phrase “eternal life”, we often think of unending life, particularly of life after death. Of heaven. But, a better reading of this is abundant life, which is the life God desires for us. Here and now. And in the future. A life of freedom. And of truth. A life that is free from the shame of our own darkness. Those things we keep hidden. Of which we are most ashamed. Our mistakes. How we treat - or mistreat - those we love the most. More broadly, our thirst for power in this world. Our marginalization of people who don’t think like us. Or look like us. Or live like us. 

Then, there’s this word “perish.” It’s in a reflexive voice. Meaning that the subject of this verb is affected by its own action. In other words, the perishing Jesus is talking about in this most famous verse in Scripture is a perishing of our own making. God’s own Son has come to save us from ourselves. Because we would choose to live in darkness. Yet God, through the Holy Spirit works faith in our hearts. Notice I said that the Spirit works faith in us. We don’t have the capacity to choose. It is God at work in us. Yet, we can refuse to receive that faith. To hang onto the darkness in us. And to the darkness of this world. To perish through our own making.

But, here’s the thing. God doesn’t come to us in Jesus to condemn us. Or anyone else.

God’s approach to us is all about love. God does this horrible thing - let’s name it, it is a horrible thing that God is doing. To give up God’s Son to die on the cross. For us. In love. So, that we might experience abundant life. A life of freedom and joy. A life of openness and trust. A life lived in the light and with others living in the light. People whose actions reflect that light.

The Nicodemuses of the world might be able to say all the right things, but until they put their lives on the line for the faith, in John’s gospel, they are still people who “love darkness more than the light.” 

May you and I, born anew and from above by the power of the Holy Spirit. May we, as people of God, be lovers and actors. Not of the darkness. But of the Light. Amen. 

Preached Sunday, January 30, 2022, online with Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, KY, and Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY.

Epiphany 4

Readings: John 3:1-21; Psalm 139:13-18

Encountering the Messiah: Overturning Tables

In today’s lesson, Jesus encounters the religious leaders in the temple. The temple had been built by Solomon. It served as the center of religious activity for God’s people, who would often travel hundreds of miles to offer sacrifices to show their love for God. It was an elaborate temple that took decades to build. Most importantly, it was central to the Jewish faith and was considered the place where God dwells.

Our reading today is from John, chapter 2.

It was nearly time for the Jewish Passover, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple those who were selling cattle, sheep, and doves, as well as those involved in exchanging currency sitting there. He made a whip from ropes and chased them all out of the temple, including the cattle and the sheep. He scattered the coins and overturned the tables of those who exchanged currency. He said to the dove sellers, “Get these things out of here! Don’t make my Father’s house a place of business.” His disciples remembered that it is written, Passion for your house consumes me.

Then the Jewish leaders asked him, “By what authority are you doing these things? What miraculous sign will you show us?”

Jesus answered, “Destroy this temple and in three days I’ll raise it up.”

The Jewish leaders replied, “It took forty-six years to build this temple, and you will raise it up in three days?” But the temple Jesus was talking about was his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered what he had said, and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

While Jesus was in Jerusalem for the Passover Festival, many believed in his name because they saw the miraculous signs that he did. But Jesus didn’t trust himself to them because he knew all people. He didn’t need anyone to tell him about human nature, for he knew what human nature was. --John 2:13-25 (CEB)

I mentioned earlier that I have a new kitten in my apartment. Romeo. Have you ever experienced introducing a new animal into your home? A new cat? Or dog? Or some other animal? What was that experience like?

Romeo is joining Dakota, who is a 3-year old female that I’ve had for a little over 2 years. I picked Romeo up on Friday. So, as you can imagine, the past couple of days have been quite an experience. He is, as most kittens are, quite wild and fearless. Dakota tends to be very conservative, sometimes a little skittish. And sometimes a little grouchy, too. Romeo doesn’t fully understand this yet. He also doesn’t understand that Dakota has established patterns in her life here. Certain routines and elements of her day-to-day life that don’t change very much. She’s created a system here - a way of being here in my apartment that Romeo has now completely upset. And as he bumbles his way into what it means for him to live here, for him to create his own system, he is coming up smack dab against hers. And she’s not very happy about it. She’s grown quite comfortable with her way of being here. And so, with a few hisses and one or two snarls, she is making her unhappiness known about this new little creature who is turning her life upside down.

Now, maybe it’s a little sacrilegious to compare Jesus to a 6 month old kitten. But, in some respects, the experience of Romeo and Dakota is similar to what is happening in today’s lesson. This story is found in all four gospels. However, it’s only in John that it happens at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. It’s centered, as I mentioned earlier, around the temple. At the time of the Passover. 

I’d like to take just a moment and imagine yourself in the midst of this scene. During Passover, thousands of God’s people would travel to Jerusalem. Estimates are that they population swelled from around 600,000 to more than 2 million people as they made pilgrimages to the Temple to worship - to make sacrifices. Picture yourself in the courtyard surrounding the buildings. It’s packed with people. You hear animal vendors calling out that they have unblemished animals for sale. This was a common and needed thing. Because so many people traveled from far away and, because of this, it was nearly impossible to bring an animal for sacrifice that would remain unblemished over such a long journey. Hear the bleating of the sheep. The mooing of the cattle. The cooing of the doves. All animals available for sacrifice. 

You can also hear the cries of the money changers. People need to exchange their coins for temple currency to purchase an unblemished animal. It’s a noisy chaotic scene in the temple courtyard. But, these money changers often didn’t just exchange currency. They also charged extra, making a nice little profit on the side. This made Jesus angry. He didn’t want the temple to be a place of profit, a place where people were treated unfairly. But a place of worship - where people could encounter God. So, he created a whip and drove the animals out of the courtyard. Then, he overturned the tables of the money changers. His was a righteous anger - a protest against unfair practices.

It wasn’t long before religious leaders came to challenge him. They had grown pretty accustomed to this way of being. Just like Dakota. When Jesus started to push against the systems they had created or allowed to exist, well, they were not happy. They challenged him. They questioned him - “Under whose authority are you doing this?” It’s here where the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Jesus speaks in figurative language about the temple. The religious leaders take him literally. Destroy the temple, they ask? What took 46 years to build, you will destroy and rebuild in three days? They didn’t get it. Interestingly, neither did the disciples. I doubt that we would have, either. It was only after the fact, after Jesus’ actual death and resurrection, that they fully understood that the destruction Jesus was talking about here was his own body. On the cross. 

But, Jesus wasn’t only talking about his death. He was also talking about his resurrection. He was also talking about the death of these temple systems. About the complacency of the religious leaders. About the unjust practices of the temple. About all of the systems that had been built that had begun to exclude people. These things needed to die, too. Not permanently, but for God to bring about something new. That something new was about where God would dwell and how God would be made known. Not through any building or not even through religious practices. But through Jesus.

What needs to die in our world? What needs to die in our lives? In our churches? What is excluding people? What is no longer serving us well? What no longer offers life? We are in the midst of our own overturning of tables. Our world, our lives, our churches have been upended. We are all trying to make sense of things, much like Jesus’ disciples, living in a time of conflict and upheaval when events are happening that we did not expect or fully understand in this moment. 

The disciples, later on in their remembering, were able to make sense of things. This is how the Spirit works, for it was only after Jesus was gone that they would fully understand. When we are past this time, we, too, will look back retrospectively and begin to comprehend. To make sense of things. In the meantime, we move forward in faith - the faith that has been inworked in us by the Holy Spirit, sent to us through Christ Jesus. Who dwells within us. And who accompanies us on the way in all its twists and turns. 

May we, like the disciples, go forward in faith, trusting that after death comes resurrection. For Jesus. And for us. Amen.

Preached online January 23, 2022, with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

3rd Sunday after Epiphany

Readings: John 2:13-25, Psalm 127:1-2

Encountering the Messiah: Abundant Life

We’re going to begin today as we did last week. With a little game. This is a game of seeking and finding. Behind me, throughout the space in my apartment that should be visible to you, you’ll find several crosses. I invite you to look for them and to count them as you look. I’ll give you just a minute to do that.

So, who found at least four crosses? You can give me a real thumbs up or use the “thumbs up” on Zoom. Who found five crosses? Six? Seven? There are seven paper crosses!

The reason there are seven different crosses is because in the Gospel of John there are seven signs or miracles that Jesus performs. Remember last week? When Jesus promised Nathaniel that he would see “even greater things?” These signs and miracles are part of the greater things that Jesus promised. In today’s lesson, we will see Jesus’ first sign.

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the celebration. When the wine ran out, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They don’t have any wine.”

Jesus replied, “Woman, what does that have to do with me? My time hasn’t come yet.”

His mother told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Nearby were six stone water jars used for the Jewish cleansing ritual, each able to hold about twenty or thirty gallons

Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water,” and they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Now draw some from them and take it to the headwaiter,” and they did. The headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine. He didn’t know where it came from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew.

The headwaiter called the groom and said, “Everyone serves the good wine first. They bring out the second-rate wine only when the guests are drinking freely. You kept the good wine until now.” This was the first miraculous sign that Jesus did in Cana of Galilee. He revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him. --John 2:1-11 (CEB)

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

We might ask why the beginning of Jesus’ ministry begins at a wedding. Does anyone have any idea?

Let’s be honest - Jesus liked parties. He liked people. As we will see in the gospel of John, he especially liked sinners. The Jesus captured in John is a relational Jesus. Always in conversation with people. So, it makes sense that this first sign - this first miracle - should be at a celebration of relationships. The joining of two people in relationship. And their families, too. 

Weddings in Jesus’ day were a big deal. They lasted for days. Running out of wine was a huge problem for this wedding feast. The host had invited everyone to come and to celebrate. Many people probably traveled far to get there. And, now, there is nothing left for them to drink. They wouldn’t have been able to just go to the store or to make a quick run to Total Wine to get some more. Jesus’ mother - and notice that she is not named and, in fact, this is the last time we will see her until we meet her at the foot of the cross - Jesus’ mother notices that they have run out of wine. She knows that he can do something about this. So she encourages Jesus to help. Gives him a little nudge. “Come on, Jesus. It’s time for you to show the world who you are.”

But, Jesus’ response to her seems a little harsh. “Woman, what does that have to do with me?” A female clergy group I’m online with had a real problem with Jesus speaking to his mother in this way. It seems so impersonal, even unfriendly. And, while there may be many other theological reasons for this, I asked them online if any of them had a 33-year-old son. Because if you do, you know the comments that they will make to you, accompanied by the eye-rolls, right? Like, “Geez, Mom, gimme a break!” Or even “Woman, what are you talking about?” So, even with Jesus’ mother knowing his divinity, there’s something here, too, about his humanity. That he is both. Which also includes being a 33-year-old son.

But, Jesus listens to her. And then he takes these six large clay vessels. Each of them with a capacity of 20-30 gallons. And he transforms the water in them - water that was likely meant for washing and not drinking. He transforms this water into the best wine of all! But, it wasn’t just that it was the best wine of all. But, it was the amount of it. The abundance of the wine Jesus made. I did the math this week. We’re talking anywhere from 140-180 gallons of wine. That’s the equivalent of 700-900 bottles of wine. At 12 bottles per case, that’s anywhere from 58 to 75 cases of wine. So this wasn’t only the best wine. It was a huge amount - an abundant amount - of the best wine. 

The chief steward is blown away. He wonders where this wine came from. I bet the bridegroom was wondering, too. But Jesus’ mother knew. So did the servants, too. 

In the opening words of this gospel of John, what we call the prologue, we heard this witness of John: “‘He who comes after me is greater than me because he existed before me.’ From his fullness we have all received grace upon grace.” From his fullness we have all received grace upon grace.

I mentioned at the beginning that this is the first of seven signs. These signs that point the disciples and others (and us) to understand who this Jesus is and why he has come. If we continue in John’s witness we read that it is through him - God’s only Son, that God is made known to us. It is this God - revealed to us in Christ - that we learn desires only life for us. Abundant life. Bottles and cases and gallons of life for us.

I recognize that in these past couple of years and, especially, in these past few weeks it’s been hard to see that. Maybe even hard to believe this - that God desires only the most abundant life for us, a life that overflows with all of the goodness and relationships and love that you and I can imagine. 

But, as we work our way through John and through the remaining six signs it will be the last sign that will make all the difference. For Jesus’ mother. For Jesus’ disciples. And for us. That sign - the cross - will take the most hopeless of moments and transform it into the most abundant, life-giving, “grace upon grace upon grace” moment of all. For us.

May we recognize these signs that point us to God. And may we hold fast to the promise of abundant life that God promises for us, through Jesus. Amen.

Preached January 16, 2022, online with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Epiphany 2

Readings: John 2:1-11, Psalm 104:14-16

 

Encountering the Messiah: Come and See

On the last Sunday of Advent, we first began our reading in the gospel of John with the Prologue - the first eighteen verses of John that set forth many of the themes and ideas that encompass the entire gospel. Over Christmas, we took a slight detour in Luke and Matthew, as we heard parts of the birth narrative of Christ, something that John doesn’t have.

Today, we return to John, where we will remain through the spring. and continue reading through the first chapter. Our reading today is in two parts. 

This is John’s testimony when the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem sent priests and Levites to ask him, “Who are you?”

John confessed (he didn’t deny but confessed), “I’m not the Christ.”

They asked him, “Then who are you? Are you Elijah?”

John said, “I’m not.”

“Are you the prophet?”

John answered, “No.”

They asked, “Who are you? We need to give an answer to those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?”

John replied,

“I am a voice crying out in the wilderness,

    Make the Lord’s path straight,

    just as the prophet Isaiah said.”

Those sent by the Pharisees asked, “Why do you baptize if you aren’t the Christ, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?”

John answered, “I baptize with water. Someone greater stands among you, whom you don’t recognize. He comes after me, but I’m not worthy to untie his sandal straps.” This encounter took place across the Jordan in Bethany where John was baptizing.

The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is the one about whom I said, ‘He who comes after me is really greater than me because he existed before me.’ Even I didn’t recognize him, but I came baptizing with water so that he might be made known to Israel.” John testified, “I saw the Spirit coming down from heaven like a dove, and it rested on him. Even I didn’t recognize him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘The one on whom you see the Spirit coming down and resting is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ I have seen and testified that this one is God’s Son.” --John 1:19-34 (CEB)

In this first portion of today’s story, John was asked many questions about who he was. The priests and Levites asked if he was one of the characters from the Old Testament who had come back, but he wasn’t.

We’re going to do something a little different today to begin. I’m going to read some clues and I’m going to invite you to help identify the person from the Old Testament that I’m referring to.

I moved from Haran.
I am the father of many descendants.
Once I almost sacrificed my son. I am… (Abraham)

I grew up in Egypt.
My mother saved my life by putting me in a basket.
I heard God’s call in a burning bush. I am… (Moses)

I am a prophet.
I stood up to the false prophets of Baal.
I heard God’s voice in the wilderness as a “still, small voice.” I am… (Elijah)

The priests and Levites in today’s reading thought that John the Baptist was Moses or Elijah who had come back. But, John told them that he wasn’t. Instead, he told them that he had a special role to prepare the way for Jesus, the Messiah. He had an important job to help others recognize Jesus.

If I hold up a bundle of Christmas lights, they look like a tangled mess, don’t they? But these Christmas lights remind me a little bit of the prophets. The prophets were messengers from God - it’s as though they were little lights, one after the other, illuminating a little bit more of God’s character. And of God’s promises. In fact, many of the prophets spoke of God’s promise to send a Messiah.

However, sometimes the messages from the prophets were confusing. Or even seemed unlikely. For example, was it true that the Messiah could really come from tiny Bethlehem?

It’s sort of like that string of Christmas lights I mentioned. Even though there are a lot of little lights, just like there were a lot of prophets, it seemed hard to get the whole picture. Sometimes the messages seemed tangled or unclear. God’s people were waiting for the Messiah, but it was difficult to see how all these little lights worked together. It was like there was a missing piece. 

There was a missing piece. This is where John came in. The priests and the Levites thought he was one of those earlier prophets, like Moses or Elijah. They even asked him if he was the Messiah. But, John very quickly responded that he was not. Yet, John had a specific job. (Straighten lights.) He was the one who was supposed to take what might be a tangled string of promises and “make straight” the path to Jesus. He was the one to point to Jesus. To connect the dots. And to reveal that Jesus was the one they had all been waiting for. (Turn on lights.) In some ways, he turned the lights on for them, so they would understand that Jesus was the Promised One, the light of the world.

Our reading continues.

The next day John was standing again with two of his disciples. When he saw Jesus walking along he said, “Look! The Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard what he said, and they followed Jesus.

When Jesus turned and saw them following, he asked, “What are you looking for?”

They said, “Rabbi (which is translated Teacher), where are you staying?”

He replied, “Come and see.” So they went and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon.

One of the two disciples who heard what John said and followed Jesus was Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter. He first found his own brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Christ ). He led him to Jesus.

Jesus looked at him and said, “You are Simon, son of John. You will be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).

The next day Jesus wanted to go into Galilee, and he found Philip. Jesus said to him, “Follow me.” Philip was from Bethsaida, the hometown of Andrew and Peter.

Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law and the Prophets: Jesus, Joseph’s son, from Nazareth.”

Nathanael responded, “Can anything from Nazareth be good?”

Philip said, “Come and see.”

Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him and said about him, “Here is a genuine Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”

Nathanael asked him, “How do you know me?”

Jesus answered, “Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree.”

Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are God’s Son. You are the king of Israel.”

Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these! I assure you that you will see heaven open and God’s angels going up to heaven and down to earth on the Human One.” --John 1:35-51 (CEB)

Just as God chose John, Jesus chose his disciples. In our reading, Jesus chooses them very quickly. Do you remember how many names you heard in this reading? How many people Jesus chose in the first few days of his public ministry? Can you help me name them? (John, Andrew, Simon (Cephas/Peter), Philip, Nathanael)

Simon, who we also know as Peter, was nicknamed Cephas, which means “rock.” He likely didn’t yet understand why Jesus had given him this name. Yet, we know, these centuries later, that Simon Peter, even after later denying Christ before his crucifixion, would become a strong leader in the early church, like a rock. Peter didn’t know it then. But, Jesus did.

Then, there’s Nathanael. I particularly like Nathanael for his sarcasm. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” It’s like saying - if you’re a member of Grace & Glory, “Can anything good come out of Jefferson County?” Or conversely, if you’re a member at Third, “Can anything good come out of Oldham County?” Nathanael was a skeptic. A doubter. The one to question things. But, Jesus could see who he would also become. So, just as Jesus called Peter for who he was and who he would become, Jesus also called Nathanael for who he was and who he would become.

You and I, we are all very different people. We come from different backgrounds and experiences. Some of us very quickly follow when we’re invited in. Others of us hold back and, perhaps, follow, but with just a few more questions, maybe a few more doubts. Whether we feel like a rock like Peter or feel like we don’t even know that that means. Whether we have a lot of questions or not that many, Jesus has called each of us to be his disciples, too. And to come together, with all of our different experiences and backgrounds and ways of being, to grow deeper in our discipleship in Christ. All Jesus calls us to is to follow. In that following we learn answers to our questions and sometimes have more questions. But, most importantly, we learn to trust Jesus as the one leading, even when that means we are not quite sure where he will take us.

May we lean deeply into what it means to follow - to be Jesus’ disciples. May we open ourselves up to trust where Jesus might be leading us. And may we, like his early disciples, be willing and vulnerable enough to point the way to Jesus, to invite others to “Come and see” so that we might, together, “see greater things than these.” Amen.

Preached January 9, 2022, online with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Epiphany 1

Readings: John 1:19-51; Psalm 66:1-5

Close to Home: Home by Another Way

Throughout this Advent and Christmas season, we’ve been reflecting on this idea of “home.” Home may mean something different for each one of us. It may be a relationship. It may be the family and the heritage of a family that we call home. It may be a physical place. For some of us, home may be a painful place or a hard memory and we may have had to find home in other places or with other people. For each one of us, home means something different. For each one of us, home is where we claim it.

Yet, as we heard on Christmas Eve and, then, last Sunday, home is about belonging. Home is about our heart - where God has claimed us. And where God invites us in to find belonging. To find home.

Today, we are celebrating Epiphany. The story of Epiphany marks a beginning and an end. As they leave their home, the Wise Men embark upon a pilgrimage, following a star, seeking a glimpse of the divine in the Christ child. 

We read from Matthew, chapter 2.

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
    who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

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

Have you ever been on a journey that was delayed? Or that took a little detour? I, like so many others over the past week or so, had my travel impacted. For the first time in awhile, I decided to fly rather than drive. I like driving because, there’s something about it that makes me feel like I have a little control. When I fly, I feel sometimes like I’m at the mercy of a lot of things: the weather, the airline, the airplane and, especially, over these past couple of years, COVID. So, instead of a direct flight back from Minneapolis on Friday. I detoured to yesterday and through Atlanta. 

This idea of a detour is similar to what happened to the Magi. As they set out from the East, these astronomers journeyed to the Bethlehem manger for a glimpse of the divine. Following a star. And while, in following that star, they may have taken an unusual journey, a different path, they still had had it to guide them along the way - on their journey to see the Christ child so that, our text tells us, they could simply worship him.

Along the way, though, they stopped in Jerusalem. Why Jerusalem? Perhaps it's because, as many think, this is where they expected to find the divine child. In the seat of power. Where one would have expected to find a child-king. But, they didn’t find him there. And so they continued to follow that star until they did find him. Until they met him in the lowliest of places, surrounded by the lowliest of creatures. It was there. In the manger in Bethlehem, where they met Jesus.

This journey to Bethlehem and the worship of these Magi is most often our focal point on Epiphany. This, along with, our understanding of the reworking and expansion of the covenant God first proclaimed with Abraham. That through him, all people would be blessed. We claim Epiphany because this is when God opened up God’s promises to the Gentiles. To all nations. And, yes, this is an important part of the story.

But, I wonder how often we pay attention to the end of the story. The very last sentence of the story. Being warned in a dream, the Magi choose a different direction to journey back home. It was a subversive choice on their part to disobey Herod. If caught, they could have been severely punished, even put to death. Yet, they listen to God speaking to them through their dreams. And they choose a path away from the deception, the manipulation, from the harm of Herod and his empire.

We are at the beginning of a new year. Once again, we are seeking COVID cases spike. Once again, we are worshipping back online. These past two years have simply been exhausting. We’ve lost so much. Individually and collectively. We’ve just lost so much. 

I’m drawn, particularly today, to Paul’s words in his letter to the church in Ephesus. Imprisoned. Likely beaten and more, he, too, had experienced an unexpected detour in his plans. He, too, had experienced much loss. Yet, he, too, like the Wise Men also witnessed the divine. He, too, had experienced the revelation of God - the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things. That, though this divine child, the true nature of God - the wisdom of God - might be made known to all. A God of grace and mercy. A God of love. A God who has claimed us, to whom we belong. Who has come into our hearts and made a home. 

May we, like Paul, trust in this divine plan. May we, like the wise men, be open to those unexpected detours home, to going home by another way. May we, like the stars in the sky, know that God is with us. May we, in this new year, take courage. God, who made all of this and who holds all of this, holds you in God’s very hands. Do not be afraid.

Preached online January 2, 2022, with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.
Christmas 2
Readings: Matthew 2:1-12; Ephesians 3:1-2

God's Presence Brings Life: Children of Light

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”) From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known. --John 1:1-18 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God, our Creator, and from Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh. Amen.

Welcome to the New Testament! For some of you, perhaps you’re breathing a sigh of relief. The Old Testament, or the Hebrew scriptures, which we’ve been focused on for the past several months, can be hard texts. Perhaps, it feels just a bit more comfortable to be back in the New Testament. Familiar ground for us. More familiar territory.

I listen each week to a podcast called Bibleworm. It features two scholars, who dig into our narrative lectionary text each week, coming from two perspectives, one Christian and the other Jewish. The Jewish scholar in this week’s podcast admitted how uncomfortable it was for her in the New Testament. Similar to our discomfort at times in the Old Testament.

But, today, we move into the gospel of John, which will become familiar territory for us from now through the spring, with the exception of the next two weeks. John doesn’t offer us a birth narrative. So, we’ll take a slight detour into Luke and Matthew in the coming weeks, then back into John through Easter and beyond.

The Jesus we find in John is often portrayed as some far away, highly spiritual, barely graspable Messiah. Karoline Lewis, a preaching professor at Luther Seminary, disagrees with this - claiming that, in fact, the Christ portrayed in John as a relational, deeply intimate Christ. The story of the incarnation itself - of God in Jesus coming to us. 

In the first half of the book, we will hear of Jesus’ miracles - signs are what they’re called in John. Their importance is not the miracle itself per se, but that they point to Jesus as the Messiah. The way in which these signs are interpreted is through dialogue - Jesus talking to people in conversation. So, as we move through John, you and I will be talking more in conversation. Less of a one-way discussion from me and more discovering together what God might be saying to us in these rich gospel texts. So, be prepared for a few questions along the way - questions that are not rhetorical but expecting a response. You’ll have to be on your toes!

Then, before we dig into the Prologue - this beginning poetry that sets out the themes we will hear through the gospel - I’d like to make a couple of background notes.

A key word to remember when reading John is “differentiation.” Here’s your first question. What is differentiation? Wait for responses. We could think of ourselves as teenagers. Differentiation is a process we all go through, when we are trying to find our own identity. Along the way, sometimes, we’re not very pleasant. In the same way, the gospel of John is speaking into a family argument, writing to a community within the broader Jewish family that has been ostracized for their belief in Jesus. They need to hear in no uncertain terms what Jesus means for them. And so, as in family arguments, sometimes we say harsh things we don’t necessarily mean, so, too, we will find harsh words mostly leveled against Jewish leaders as this Christian splinter group tries to understand who they are and where they fit in. Some of the language in John has been used as a basis for anti-Semitism. So, where we read about “the Jews” I will intentionally change this phrase to “the Jewish leaders.” A reminder - we are all ancestors of Abraham. And, as Liam and Lorelei discussed this week in confirmation, of Adam and Eve - one human family. 

Now let’s dig into John, chapter 1. “In the beginning” we read. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. “He” was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through “him,” and without “him” not one thing came into being. The author of this gospel was set in two worlds - a Jew fully immersed in the Torah. And a Greek thinker. So, there are references to the Hebrew scriptures and also some references to Stoic philosophy in this text. The word, “Word,” in Greek is logos. It is somewhat ambiguous in terms of gender. In Stoic philosophy, logos was understood as the organizing principle of the cosmos - the principle by which the whole world was held together. 

This is poetry. It requires us to slow down a little to make sense of it. We often read this text on Christmas Eve. But rarely do we take it apart to fully understand what it means. So, understanding the author’s perspective, when you hear these opening words, without using the name “Jesus,” what does this text remind you of and what might it be telling us? 

Continuing on, we read that in him was life and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. Do you notice in that last sentence, that the verb used with the word “light” is in the present tense. The verb used with darkness is in a “past” tense. What might that be saying to us?

Moving on, we have a couple of narrative sentences that tell us about John - not the author John, but the one we know as John the Baptist. This John was, according to historical accounts, much more significant than Jesus was in terms of followers. So, perhaps, these few sentences are inserted here to ensure that the listeners understand that John is not the Logos. The author is developing the idea that there is light in the world, but that it’s not always recognized by everyone. 

Continuing in verses 9-14, we read that the world did not know “him.” Kosmos is the world used here in Greek for world. It’s defined as those human structures that come into being through Jesus, but that don’t understand this. These structures of the world - these empires, using another term - think they are of their own origin - self created. Not recognizing that they are part of God’s reality, not their own ultimate reality. This ultimate reality is the kingdom of heaven that is inaugurated in Jesus. You and I participate in the kosmos. When our scripture texts rub up against our modern empires - those we participate in - we are challenged by these words. They can make us feel uncomfortable, angry even. But, perhaps that’s the point. Truth has an edge to it. Yet, grace is very open and accepting. So, where the truth rubs us and we make our best effort to act as children of God, grace fills in any gaps. This is what God’s only Son offers us. The truth. And then grace upon grace.

The Prologue ends with verse 18. Even as we grapple with this text today, the early Christians were grappling with something they couldn’t even fully articulate. That, in Jesus, we see the very nature of God. This is a God who leans more towards grace and away from some of the legalism they were hearing - that we still hear today in the Christian sect. That law matters more than gospel. The Jesus of John’s gospel tells us that this is not who God is. 

So, gathering all of this up, what might this text be saying to us, especially on this last Sunday of Advent? 

One understanding - and there are many ways in which to understand this text - but one understanding is that the Word of God, made present in Jesus is a light that has and will overcome the darkness of empire. That this is about where we live our lives. In the darkness of the human-made structures or in the light of the reign of God - a reign that is characterized by truth and grace upon grace upon grace - all of which opens up for us a new way of being in the world - as children of God.

May we be those children of light. Amen.

Preached December 19, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.
Advent 4
Readings: John 1:1-18; Psalm 130:5-8

God's Presence Brings Life: Come Home

Ho, everyone who thirsts,
    come to the waters;

and you that have no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without price.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
    and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good,
    and delight yourselves in rich food.
Incline your ear, and come to me;
    listen, so that you may live.
I will make with you an everlasting covenant,
    my steadfast, sure love for David.
See, I made him a witness to the peoples,
    a leader and commander for the peoples.
See, you shall call nations that you do not know,
    and nations that do not know you shall run to you,
because of the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel,
    for he has glorified you.

Seek the Lord while he may be found,
    call upon him while he is near;
let the wicked forsake their way,
    and the unrighteous their thoughts;
let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them,
    and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
   nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
    and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
    giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
    it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
    and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy,
    and be led back in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
    shall burst into song,
    and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;
    instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;
and it shall be to the Lord for a memorial,
    for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off. --Isaiah 55:1-13 (NRSV)

I don’t know if you’re like me, but in the middle of last year’s lockdown I watched - Clarification! - I binge-watched a lot of TV. And I mean a lot. It’s kind of dangerous, I think. Having this access to TV shows and movies and all the other stuff we can now stream whenever we want. 

As we’ve come out of hibernation, the quantity of stuff I’ve been watching has diminished a lot. But, one thing that has kept my attention is YouTube. I continue to follow several YouTube channels. A few on the topic of minimalism. (Yes, it’s true!) A few on tiny houses - making plans for my retirement home whenever and wherever that might be. And, then there are the three channels about van life. 

One of these three is a channel documenting the exploits of a young Canadian couple from Toronto named Eamon and Bec. They live out of a converted Sprinter van. (I feel a beatnik vibe coming on!) And they travel all over the world in this van, meeting new people, eating great food, having the most amazing experiences. Their videos are just one adventure after the other. To be honest, I probably live a little vicariously through them. 

Right now, they are in Morocco. The last video they posted was of a local Moroccan street food market in Marrakesh. Every day at around 4p, as people are leaving work, this food market pops up out of nowhere. Within an hour there are over 100 stalls of every kind of food you can imagine. It’s a crazy and joyful and abundant scene, made even more entertaining by the barking of the food vendors. As they’re trying to capture people’s attention, trying to get them to come to their stall. Trying to convince them that the food they have is better than any other stall in the market. Can’t you hear the merchant cries in your imagination? “Come!! Come! Buy! Eat here!” The merchant invites us in.

But the merchant crying out in our Isaiah text isn’t selling anything. Shockingly, he’s giving it away. Charging nothing for the person who really wants a drink. Or for the person who’s hungry. “Come, buy without money!” he cries. Surely not something we would ever hear on the streets of Marrakesh. Or on the streets of Louisville.

But it’s an invitation in. An invitation by God into something new. And different. An extension of covenant with David. When we think covenant, we probably remember that covenant that God made with Israel at Sinai. Remember? If you will be faithful to me I will be faithful to you. But, this is something different. Something new. A reinterpretation of the covenant God made with David - that David’s dynasty would last forever. It’s an unconditional covenant. No more “if you do this,” “I’ll do this” kind of covenant. But a promise that is entirely one-sided. Made by God.

And, even more powerfully, this covenant is not only for God’s chosen people. But, as we read in verse 5, it is a broadening of the covenant that will include all people. That will invite all people in.

God’s speech is interrupted briefly in verse 6 with a call from the prophet. “Seek the Lord,” he cries. Not by offering sacrifice. Instead, this is a more internal turning to God. A gift of the heart. Of the self. God, who is all merciful, looks for true seekers. For people who hunger and thirst for God. “Seek the Lord!” the prophet interrupts.

Then God returns in verse 8 with a statement that God’s thoughts and ways are radically different from those of human beings. And that, when God speaks, God’s word is creative and effective. Just as the rain, that falls to the earth and brings life.  

This entire chapter is an invitation to the exiles. It’s an invitation to us. To come home. To come home to a God who promises abundance and deep forgiveness. To come home to a God who promises to be there. Waiting. And faithful. With a plan to make everything whole again. 

Are you hurting? Are you in pain? Are you grieving? Are you thirsty? Or hungry? Or lost? This is God’s message and invitation: 

Come.
I have a place for you.
Come to the waters of baptism.
Come to the feast of the Eucharist.
Eat and drink only the best.
Fill yourself with only the finest.

Pay attention.
Come closer now.
Listen carefully to my life-giving, life nourishing words.
I’m making a lasting covenant commitment with you,
The same that I made with David: sure, solid, enduring love.
I have a plan.
I’m about to do a new thing.
Because when my Word goes out
--when my life-giving, life-nourishing Word goes out--
He will not come back empty-handed.
He will do the work I sent him to do.
He will complete the assignment I gave him.
This Word made flesh. For you.

Amen.

Preached December 12, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.
Advent 3
Readings: Isaiah 55:1-13; John 4:13-14

God's Presence Brings Life: Dry Bones

Today, our reading is from the prophetic book of Ezekiel. It is, perhaps, the most known passage in Ezekiel. 

Last week, we were in the Prophet Jeremiah. The time frame of both of these prophets is about the same, with Jeremiah perhaps a little older than Ezekiel. Both Jeremiah and Ezekiel were prophets during the first exile of Israel. But they are in different locations. Jeremiah is speaking to the people exiled in Babylon from Israel’s homeland. Ezekiel, however, who was a priest and a prophet, an influencer of sorts in Jerusalem, has been exiled by Babylon. To keep him from stirring up trouble in Jerusalem. So, Ezekiel is an exile speaking to those in the homeland. 

The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.”

So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.

Then he said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’ Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.” --Ezekiel 37:1-14 (NRSV)

During the time I lived in Austin, I got to know my youngest niece, Grace, well. One of her favorite TV shows - in fact, her most favorite TV show - was “Bones.” She even named her cat, “Bones.” I don’t know if you remember the show, or if you saw it, but it was a crime procedural comedy-drama series that first premiered in 2005. It was based on a real person - a woman who was a forensic anthropologist. 

The whole idea behind this area of work is that bones can speak to us. Forensic anthropologists assist in identifying deceased individuals whose remains are decomposed, burned, mutilated, or otherwise unrecognizable - such as the result of a plane crash. They are also instrumental in investigating and documenting mass genocide and identifying remains left behind in mass graves. Their job is to help the bones tell the story of this person or this people who are no more.

Now Ezekiel is not a forensic anthropologist. But a prophet. And, as our test today opens, he is being whisked away by God - kind of like Disney’s Ghost of Christmas past from Dicken’s Christmas Carol. Ezekiel is literally being whisked by the hand of God into a valley of bones. Bone upon bone upon bone. Stacked far and wide. All Ezekiel can see are bones. Dry bones. Bones that have been there for a very long time. Bones from which all of the marrow - that life giving center - has completely dried up. Ezekiel has been carried into the midst of death itself. 

Then, surprisingly, God asks the question of Ezekiel. “Can these bones live?” God asks. And, Ezekiel, perhaps not entirely sure of the answer, responds, “You know, God.” Like “I don’t know, you tell me.” There is no “Pollyanna” “Sure, you bet!” answer here. Instead, Ezekiel, not really knowing the answer given what lies in front of him, turns the question back to God.

It is then that God acts - not by restoring the bones to life as we might expect, but by telling Ezekiel to prophesy to them. Almost like God is saying to Ezekiel, even though you may not know whether these dried out bones can be restored, do it. Prophesy, Mortal.

So, he does. Reluctantly. Perhaps, hopelessly, too. But, then, a miracle begins to happen. What Ezekiel perhaps expected would happen, doesn’t. The exact opposite happens. These bones begin to fill out with sinew and flesh, covered by skin. Dry as they were, they have begun to come alive. But, not fully. 

Because, then, God tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath. To the breath of creation - the four winds from the four corners of the earth. Creation itself has a role to play in this restoration of life. Soon, these formerly dead, dry bones are alive. Standing on their feet. A vast multitude, our text tells us.

This text from Ezekiel is often used as a metaphor for life after death, for the resurrection of the dead. But, perhaps a better reading of this - a reading that is clearly laid out for us in the text, is one that is about the restoration of Israel. Of the people of Israel. This is less a resurrection story and more a restoration story. It is the story of an exiled people, who, like the dry, dead bones, have lost hope. A people who have lost their land. Who have lost their way of life. Who have lost everything. This is a story of a people disrupted. This could also be our story.

The lesson of this story? There are many. But, perhaps, for us in our time - as we are once again witness to a new COVID variant, witness to another school shooting, witness again to increasing hostility between nations - things that dry out our bones, that suck all of the hope from us. Perhaps, for us in our time this is simply a message for us as people of God - like Ezekiel - to simply speak words of hope into our world, even when we don’t know for sure what the future holds. To prophesy to the dry bones around us. To call in the breath of creation. To be part of creating that new future into which the God of Israel - who entered into our world through God’s own Son - will again enter in to restore and reanimate our hope. And our world.

Can these bones live? O God, you know. Amen.

Preached December 5, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.
Advent 2
Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14; John 11:25-26

Promises of Hope: A Light in the Darkness

 A reading from Isaiah.

Nonetheless, those who were in distress won’t be exhausted. At an earlier time, God cursed the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but later he glorified the way of the sea, the far side of the Jordan, and the Galilee of the nations.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.
    On those living in a pitch-dark land, light has dawned.
You have made the nation great;
    you have increased its joy.
They rejoiced before you as with joy at the harvest,
    as those who divide plunder rejoice.
As on the day of Midian, you’ve shattered the yoke that burdened them,
    the staff on their shoulders,
    and the rod of their oppressor.
Because every boot of the thundering warriors,
    and every garment rolled in blood
    will be burned, fuel for the fire.
A child is born to us, a son is given to us,
    and authority will be on his shoulders.
    He will be named
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
There will be vast authority and endless peace
    for David’s throne and for his kingdom,
    establishing and sustaining it
    with justice and righteousness
    now and forever.

The zeal of the Lord of heavenly forces will do this.

Alright. Show of hands. Who’s afraid of the dark? Come on, now. Be honest. You know that feeling. That little anxious feeling that, even as an adult, arises inside when it feels like it’s too dark. Just a little too dark.

My fear of the dark began - as, perhaps, for most of us - when I was a child. Honestly, it was thanks to my brother. Like my dad, he was a big practical joker. Always messing with my sister and I.

In the early years of our growing up, my sister and I shared a bedroom. Each night, after the lights had been turned off, we would lie there in complete fear. One of things my brother loved to do was to crawl into our room on his belly. Slither under the bed. And then slowly reach this long, seemingly endless, arm up over the side of our bed and try grab us. We would scream. Move closer into the center of the bed in an attempt to get away from him. And, then, he would laugh. An evil, wicked laugh. As only brothers can do.

Darkness. It still scares me a little today. Maybe because it just feels so uncontrollable. So unknown. So. Dark. 

Darkness was what Judah was experiencing in our text today. With the Assyrians breathing down the necks of Israel in the north, Judah was being pressured to enter into an alliance with Egypt and the northern kingdom. To try to defeat their common enemy. Or, at least, to hold them off even for a little while.

In the previous chapter, Yahweh warns Isaiah not to walk in the way of the wayward people. Isaiah is called not to fear what others fear. But to fear only Yahweh. Isaiah is called not to be in dread of what others dread, but to dread only Yahweh. The text in these preceding verses describes the plight of Yahweh’s people. Who do not “wait.” And who do not place their hope in their God. 

Darkness becomes the metaphor used in chapter 8 to describe these people and their wayward experience. They will experience no dawn. They will be greatly distressed and hungry. They will look everywhere, but will see only distress and darkness. Gloom and anguish. Then, again, Isaiah tells them once more, they will be thrust into thick, thick darkness. 

What is the plight of a people who live only in darkness? A people with no light? With no dawn? With no beginning again? With no hope? Darkness brings only gloom and despair. People walking in darkness walk with hesitancy and fear. Unable to find their direction, they grab onto nothingness as they see to touch something familiar. Something that will give them a perspective. That will help them along the way. 

What are your dark places? Maybe it's the darkness of this pandemic, which once more, especially in other parts of our country and the world, is once again increasing. Maybe it's the darkness of our political world, where compromise has become a dirty word and leaders have become more and more polarized. Unable to truly lead as they have been elected to do. Or maybe it's in our economic life, where we are seeing mass resignations because, as many workers are saying, we’re tired of being treated so poorly for so little. Or maybe it's the darkness of our system of justice that never seems to work for people of color, but just perpetuates “whiteness” again and again.

Maybe the darkness is in your personal life. The darkness of failing health. The darkness of disintegrating relationships. Or the deep, deep darkness of grief and loss. The death of a beloved one. Or the deep grief we are experiencing over these past two years. 

Or maybe the darkness is here. In the church. As we watch fewer and fewer people come in the doors. And it feels as though our way of being is dying a slow. Painful. Death.

What are your dark places? Those places where it feels as though there is just no hope.

I’m reminded of the opening verses that we began this lectionary year with - those beginning words of Genesis. “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep. The Spirit of God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light.”

Friends, God was there. In the dark. All along. Present in the darkness and chaos. Working to bring order and light. Perhaps the light then wasn’t for God. But for us. For “those walking in darkness” to “see a great light.” To see God’s saving action that begins in Genesis. And that we read here of in Isaiah. Where Isaiah names the darkness that will be no more. No more burden. Or oppression. Or tramping warriors. Or garments rolled in blood. Perhaps the light is for us today, too. To see that God has been and is at work in our world in the darkness and that, with the light, we can now finally see the saving action of God.

But, is there enough light to break through the darkness? To break through our apathy? Our cynicism? Is there enough light to cause us to ask ourselves once again whether it is enough to penetrate our darkness? Enough light that can shine in and redeem us?

According to Isaiah, yes. Salvation can come. The light is named. A child will be born, Isaiah tells the people, “for us.” The son is given, Isaiah tells the people, “to us.” This ruler to come is called: Wonderful Counselor. Mighty God. Eternal Father. The Prince of Peace. 

Just as God created our beautiful and ordered world out of darkness. Just as God delivered Judah with a new king. So, too, God has delivered us through the light of Jesus Christ. Salvation can come, Isaiah says, because of the zeal of the Lord. What appears to be beyond possibility can be certain. God, through God’s passion and fury, with a great sense of urgency, will see that the light will come. 

Isaiah found this to be true. May we. Amen.

Preached November 21, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.
Reign of Christ Sunday
Readings: Isaiah 9;1-7; John 8:12

Promises of Hope: Thinking Theologically at Third

I’ve mentioned this before, but one of my goals as your interim pastor has been to help each of you grow in your ability to think theologically. It’s something I do. It’s something each of you do. It’s a way of being where you make decisions about stuff in your lives that draws on your beliefs. Beliefs that are often so deeply embedded within us that we are not even aware of them. That are almost second nature for us.

Today, we’re going to do something a little bit different. For the past several months, the focus of our council and our congregation has been to finally let go of the remaining “stuff” that was moved from our building. As we begin to look forward, to discern our next steps, I invite you to hear these words from the prophet Amos. Then, as we move forward in our discernment, to allow their message to sink deeply within us, that we might think theologically about where and what God might be calling us to. In this time. And this place.

We begin in Amos, chapter 1. 

The words of Amos, who was among the shepherds of Tekoa, which he saw concerning Israel in the days of King Uzziah of Judah and in the days of King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel, two years before the earthquake.

And he said:

The Lord roars from Zion,
    and utters his voice from Jerusalem;
the pastures of the shepherds wither,
    and the top of Carmel dries up.

What do we know about Amos? Well, from these two short verses we know that he is from Tekoa - a small down just outside of Jerusalem. In other words, he’s from the southern kingdom of Judah. These verses also give us a time frame - probably around 750 BCE. We also know that he is a sheep breeder. The NRSV translation calls him a shepherd, but, a better translation of the Hebrew is that of sheep breeder. He’s a man of means - probably pretty middle class. Invested in the economic system. And, yet, as we will soon hear, also preaching against it. And the people he’s preaching to? Those in the north. So he’s a southern prophet preaching to the northern tribes. 

Verse 2 gives us a little prologue of what we are about to hear. God is angry. Roaring like a lion out of Jerusalem. God is not to be found - as God was last week - in the silence. The effect of this is that the pastures and the summit of Mt. Carmel in the north have dried up. This area was known as a rich agricultural area, full of vineyards. Like our present-day Napa Valley. It’s now dried up, an effect of God’s anger. Amos is giving us a prelude of what is to come - like the older brother warning us when we get home from school that Mom is mad. But why is God mad?

Let’s read on in chapter 5. 

Seek good and not evil,
    that you may live;
and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you,
    just as you have said.
Hate evil and love good,
    and establish justice in the gate;
it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts,
    will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

The opening verses of this passage seem straightforward. Do good and not evil. But is this really what Amos is saying. To just be a “good” person. If we go back just a few verses, we read that, perhaps, it’s not that simple. In these previous verses, it appears that there’s a perversion of justice. That people are controlling the food supply in a way that’s making them rich. And impovershing others. It takes us back to the manna story, where even though there was enough for everyone there were those who hoarded. It’s contrary to the economy of God that is laid out in Deuteronomy. Where there is to be economic distribution so that both the rich and the poor are both living well enough. It may be that some have more than others, but everybody has enough. And no one has ridiculous amounts. But, the problem is that the people with access are hoarding it. And God does not like this.

So, in verse 14, when we read the directive to seek good, it’s not about being nice to other people, but it’s about ensuring economic justice for everyone. This is why God is angry. Because doing economic justice is important to God. It’s where God’s heart is. And where God wants our heart to be, too. Amos is talking to people here - like you and I - who think they’re doing the right thing, but who just quite get it. The message here is that if we don’t get it then the day of God’s return - the day of the Lord - will not be a good day. This is a sharp, painful message. For the people of Amos’ time. For us, too.

Our reading concludes: 

I hate, I despise your festivals,
    and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings,
    I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
    I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
    I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,
    and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

It might sound as though God hates our worship. Our festival services. Our sacraments. Our rituals. I wonder though if what God hates is hollow worship. Worship that is disconnected from doing justice. Because, when there is justice, there will be water overflowing and the land will produce. And the whole community will prosper. It’s a great system. Built by God. Where generosity begets generosity. And abundance creates even more abundance. For everyone. 

So, what might this mean for our future as Third Lutheran Church? What we hear Amos telling us - what God is telling us - is that it must be connected to justice. To ensuring that everyone has what they need to thrive. Understanding this, how might this inform our decision as to our next steps here? 

You and I have been freed by God in grace - freed from the burden of our sin through the power  of Christ on the cross. Freed to love our neighbor. Freed to ensure that every one of our neighbors is thriving. As we worship today, know that this call of the prophet Amos is not a call to stop worshiping, but a call to do worship and to do justice. And, especially, to do justice abundantly. Because, if we do, God promises that we, along with our neighbor, will thrive. That generosity will beget generosity. And abundance, more abundance. 

May we trust in this economy of God. And let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Amen.

Preached, November 14, 2021, at Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 25

Readings: Amos 1:1-2, 5:14-15, 21-24; John 7:37-38

Promises of Hope: Thinking Theologically at Grace & Glory

I’ve mentioned this before, but one of my goals as your pastor has been to help each of you grow in your ability to think theologically. It’s something I do. It’s something each of you do. It’s a way of being where you make decisions about stuff in your lives that draws on your beliefs. Beliefs that are often so deeply embedded within us that we are not even aware of them. That are almost second nature for us.

Today, we’re going to do something a little bit different. There’s an issue we’ve been talking about on council - related to the pond on our property. As you may or may not know, earlier this year, we leased a couple of acres of the property we own east of here to three newly-emigrated refugee families, who are operating under the name of Kachin Farm. They are mentored by Green Earth Gardens, which is an arm of Catholic Charities. The lease gives them use of this small parcel of land for vegetable farming, in exchange for providing 10% of their production to our food pantry. It’s a win-win situation. We help new immigrants build a better life for themselves. And our pantry members get fresh produce.

One of the questions Kachin Farms has been asking is whether the pond can sustain an irrigation system. As you can imagine, this would increase and stabilize the production of their gardens. They’ve consulted with the USDA, who have determined that our pond has “lost it’s integrity.” Meaning there’s a crack in the clay bottom of the pond that is allowing water to drain out. Reducing the amount of water in the pond. The proposal is that the pond be dredged out and that the clay bottom be replaced. With this improvement, the USDA folks think then that it could sustain irrigation.

There’s concern on our council about whether this will work. If it does, great. But, if it doesn’t, what might the long-term effect be. There’s also some question around whether the pond really can sustain an irrigation system. There are a few more concerns, but these two are primary.

So, to help us think theologically about this issue, today we’re going to dig into our text from Amos. And hopefully hear how it might speak to us in a way that helps us think theologically and, perhaps even, to reframe the conversation a bit.

We begin in Amos, chapter 1. 

The words of Amos, who was among the shepherds of Tekoa, which he saw concerning Israel in the days of King Uzziah of Judah and in the days of King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel, two years before the earthquake.

And he said:

The Lord roars from Zion,
    and utters his voice from Jerusalem;
the pastures of the shepherds wither,
    and the top of Carmel dries up.

What do we know about Amos? Well, from these two short verses we know that he is from Tekoa - a small down just outside of Jerusalem. In other words, he’s from the southern kingdom of Judah. These verses also give us a time frame - probably around 750 BCE. We also know that he is a sheep breeder. The NRSV translation calls him a shepherd, but, a better translation of the Hebrew is that of sheep breeder. He’s a man of means - probably pretty middle class. Invested in the economic system. And, yet, as we will soon hear, also preaching against it. And the people he’s preaching to? Those in the north. So he’s a southern prophet preaching to the northern tribes. 

Verse 2 gives us a little prologue of what we are about to hear. God is angry. Roaring like a lion out of Jerusalem. God is not to be found - as God was last week - in the silence. The effect of this is that the pastures and the summit of Mt. Carmel in the north have dried up. This area was known as a rich agricultural area, full of vineyards. Like our present-day Napa Valley. It’s now dried up, an effect of God’s anger. Amos is giving us a prelude of what is to come - like the older brother warning us when we get home from school that Mom is mad. But why is God mad?

Let’s read on in chapter 5. 

Seek good and not evil,
    that you may live;
and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you,
    just as you have said.
Hate evil and love good,
    and establish justice in the gate;
it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts,
    will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

The opening verses of this passage seem straightforward. Do good and not evil. But is this really what Amos is saying. To just be a “good” person. If we go back just a few verses, we read that, perhaps, it’s not that simple. In these previous verses, it appears that there’s a perversion of justice. That people are controlling the food supply in a way that’s making them rich. And impoverishing others. It takes us back to the manna story, where even though there was enough for everyone there were those who hoarded. It’s contrary to the economy of God that is laid out in Deuteronomy. Where there is to be economic distribution so that both the rich and the poor are both living well enough. It may be that some have more than others, but everybody has enough. And no one has ridiculous amounts. But, the problem is that the people with access are hoarding it. And God does not like this.

So, in verse 14, when we read the directive to seek good, it’s not about being nice to other people, but it’s about ensuring economic justice for everyone. This is why God is angry. Because doing economic justice is important to God. It’s where God’s heart is. And where God wants our heart to be, too. Amos is talking to people here - like you and I - who think they’re doing the right thing, but who just quite get it. The message here is that if we don’t get it then the day of God’s return - the day of the Lord - will not be a good day. This is a sharp, painful message. For the people of Amos’ time. For us, too.

We conclude our reading.

I hate, I despise your festivals,
    and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings,
    I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
    I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
    I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,

   and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

It might sound as though God hates our worship. Our festival services. Our sacraments. Our rituals. I wonder though if what God hates is hollow worship. Worship that is disconnected from doing justice. Because, when there is justice, there will be water overflowing and the land will produce. And the whole community will prosper. It’s a great system. Built by God. Where generosity begets generosity. And abundance creates even more abundance. For everyone. 

So, what might this mean for us and the pond and our farmers? Clearly, we are called to properly steward this land that we hold in trust from God. Yet, what we hear Amos telling us - what we hear God telling us - is that we should always side on that of economic justice. Ensuring that everyone has enough to thrive. How might this understanding inform our decision?

You and I have been freed by God in grace - freed from the burden of our sin through the power  of Christ on the cross. Freed to love our neighbor. Freed to ensure that every one of our neighbors is thriving. As we worship today, know that this call of the prophet Amos is not a call to stop worshiping, but a call to do worship and to do justice. And, especially, to do justice abundantly. Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Amen.

Preached November 14, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect

Pentecost 25

Readings: Amos 1:1-2, 5:14-15, 21-24; John 7:37-38