Birth of the Church: Easter is Coming

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened. --Luke 24:1-12 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ! Alleluia, Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

I wonder what their plans were after Jesus had died on that Passover evening - the disciples who had followed him so long on the journey to Jerusalem. Simon Peter, James, and John, from the beginning, then the remaining nine. The tax collectors and those whom Jesus had healed or raised from the dead. And, the women. Yes, the women. So many of them named in Luke’s gospel. All of the disciples, men and women alike, coming from so many different lives. What would they do now that Jesus had died? Would they simply go back to life as usual? 

This was what the women were doing that early morning after the Sabbath. They’d watched from afar as Jesus died, followed Joseph of Arimathea as he’d taken down the body of Jesus, wrapped it in a rock-hewn tomb. Not the typical tomb where bodies were stacked upon each other, but one that had never been used. Perhaps, for the women, this irony was not lost on them - that Jesus’ life had begun in a virgin’s womb and ended in a virgin tomb. They hadn’t been able to prepare Jesus’ body properly for death that night, because it was the Sabbath. He’d been buried without the proper rituals and anointing, without the ability to properly mourn his death, much like so many families in our world have experienced in this past year. 

But, the women were determined to keep their traditions, to do life as usual. This meant preparing the burial spices and the ointments. Then resting on the Sabbath, waiting for the next day to begin to do things the way they had always been done. 

Except this wasn’t how things had always been done. It wasn’t long before they learned this. The two men at the tomb, standing there in dazzling clothes, who reminded them of what Jesus had told them, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, be crucified, and on the third day would rise again. The women remembered this. And, then, quickly returning from the tomb, they went to the remaining eleven disciples and all the others and shared this news. 

But, it hadn’t taken long for the other disciples to revert back to the way things had always been done. The women’s voices were quickly dismissed. Nonsense, is what these disciples said to them. Dismissing their voices. All of the disciples. Well, except for Peter. Who quickly ran to the tomb to see for himself. 

The truth of this story is that the resurrection of Jesus and the dawning of the new creation along with him is a threat to anyone who would rather continue living as if the cross were the end of the story. The women, going to the tomb, were planning to perform that one last act of love for Jesus and, then, return home to their former lives. Peter and the rest would have returned to their boats, their nets, their many occupations. 

But the empty tomb changes everything, opening up new possibilities. There is no way back to their former lives in Galilee. And, even though Luke tells us that Peter went home after seeing the empty tomb, we soon will learn that this wasn’t the end of it: Peter would become one of the primary leaders in this new movement that would become known as “The Way.” And he, like Jesus, would eventually die on his own cross. 

The resurrection is a joyous event. But it also moves - no, compels the disciples forward to bear their own cross. To go into the messiness of their world and to share this good news. To forgive. To heal. And to love. 

This call by Jesus for his disciples to take up their cross and follow him is still valid for us. It would be so much simpler for us to go back, post-pandemic, to the old way of doing things. It would be so much safer if we were not compelled by the resurrection to oppose injustice, oppression, and all forms of evil. The message - the full message - of Easter is both joy and challenge. It is the announcement of unequaled and final victory over sin, death, and the devil. But, it is also the call to radical, dangerous, and even painful discipleship. 

Easter is coming. What will you do?

Preached April 4, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Easter 1

Readings: Luke 24:1-12, Psalm 118:17, 21-24.

God's Triumph: The End of the Story

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. --Mark 16:1-8 (NRSV)

There is a reason we don't often read the resurrection story in Mark on Easter. Nowhere in it do we see a resurrected Jesus. Nowhere do we see Jesus meeting the disciples later, where they are witness to their now risen Savior.  There's a reason we don't often read the resurrection story in Mark on Easter. Because it ends with the women leaving in terror and amazement. It doesn’t tell us what happened next - whether they went and told the disciples. It leaves us hanging, wondering what happened. 

There is a reason we don’t often read the resurrection story in Mark on Easter. 

Last summer, when I was looking through our readings for this year and realized that this reading was the Gospel text appointed for Easter Sunday, I honestly considered changing it. And yet, who could have predicted what is happening in this moment? Who could have predicted that the entire world would be in the midst of a pandemic? Who could have predicted that much of what we know and our ways of life could have been so turned upside down? Who could have predicted any of this last summer? 

Now - in this moment - the resurrection story in Mark seems right. 

So, what do we have in the story? It opens with the women going to the tomb. These are the same women we met at the end of our Good Friday reading. They had remained at the cross. They had seen Jesus crucified when everyone had abandoned him. They had also witnessed where Jesus was buried. So, early on this morning they set out for the tomb, to prepare Jesus’ body for burial, something they’d been unable to do immediately after his death because of the start of the Sabbath. They go to offer this last loving gesture, this last service of love.

But, they had one very practical concern. Who would roll away the stone?  

It's hard to ignore the imagery in Mark that points to the coming kingdom of God - it’s unveiling and the opening up of access to God. We first saw it at the very beginning of Mark, when the heavens opened and the Holy Spirit came down to anoint him as the son of God. We saw it in the hours leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion. The references in Mark 15 to nakedness, or as Gary would have said if given the opportunity last Sunday, “nekedness.” These point to the undressing and the unveiling of God’s kingdom. 

We saw this same imagery at the time of Jesus’ crucifixion, with the tearing from top to bottom of the temple curtain. Opening up access to a God restricted by the temple system. Then, finally, in our story today, as the women arrive at the tomb, they realize that the stone has already been rolled away. Once more, we have the signal that the tomb has been opened to the entire world. The unveiling of the kingdom of God has begun for everyone.

Now I should mention here that, while we view this unveiling as a positive thing, we must also remember that it is a direct threat to death and the power of evil. Evil recognizes who this Jesus is. We saw this earlier in Mark when only the demons recognized the true power of Jesus and his true identity. Evil fears Jesus and the kingdom of God. Because not only does Jesus usher in life, the kingdom of God unveils evil. Exposes it for what it is. Perhaps this is what is happening in our own time, in this time of pandemic. As we finally begin to see and more fully understand the failures of our economic systems. And of our healthcare systems. Of our systems of class and race. Of our religious systems. The kingdom of God exposes these systems - systems that keep people from shalom. From that wholeness and that peace that God desires for all of us.

Perhaps, this is why the resurrection story in Mark is so helpful for us in this time. Because the very last word in Mark in Greek is the word “gar,” which is a word that in English means “for” or “because.” So, if we read the Greek in English exactly as translated, the last line of our text and of all of Mark reads, “So [the women] went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, they were afraid because…”

In other words, the Mark resurrection story ends with an invitation. To the reader. To finish the story. An invitation into this question of what will happen next. Will anyone go to Galilee? What is the adventure you will choose? Because the end of the story has not been written. Will you respond in faith? Will you respond in fear? Are you, dear reader or dear listener, going to Galilee? Or not.

It may be hard right now to see God’s action in our world, to witness the resurrected Jesus. To see God creating life. It may feel much more like Good Friday than Easter. But, there is no excuse in Mark's gospel to freeze up, to not do the next thing, to not go to Galilee. We, just like those women so long ago, are called to act in faith with only a story, a promise, with only some evidence. We must live toward that promise that we’ve had rumors of, but of which there is perhaps little evidence. To see God at work in our world, creating new life. To believe that, even in the midst of this time, God continues to roll out the kingdom. Working to bring life out of the death we are witnessing in this moment. To give us faith to move us beyond our fear and to live into this life for all eternity that has been promised for each one of us. And for all people.

So, perhaps, the resurrection story in Mark is perfect for this time. May we join God in writing the end of it. Amen.

Preached April 12, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 1
Readings: Mark 16:1-8; Romans 6:5-11.

Gifts of God's Grace: Peace and Hope

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.  Romans 5:1-11 (NRSV)

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

The 509th Infantry Regiment is an Airborne Infantry Regiment of the United States Army. It has a long and proud history. Previously called the 509th Parachute Infantry Regiment or the 509th (PIR), this battalion conducted the first parachute infantry combat jump by the US Army during World War II. In total, the 509th made five combat jumps during that war with its final action during the Battle of the Bulge, where the battalion fought a desperate battle against 2 German Panzer divisions. Vastly outnumbered, the 509th held their ground, later earning the unit a Presidential Unit Citation.  Their second.

After World War II, the 509th remained inactive for nearly two decades, until 1963, when it was reformed and stationed in West Germany on the front lines of the Cold War. Since then, the paratroopers of the 509th have served with distinction, more recently in Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom-Afghanistan. 

In 2011, the 509th was deployed to eastern Afghanistan, situated in the Khost, Paktia, and Paktika provinces, all on the troubled border with Pakistan. It was augmented with two other infantry units: the 4th Brigade Combat Team and the 1st Infantry Division, along with two Provincial Reconstruction Teams and two Army National Guard Agri-Business Development Teams. The total strength of this task force was approximately 4,500 personnel. During the 10 months of its deployment, the brigade, in partnership with Afghan National Security Forces, conducted counter-insurgency operations and supervised governance, development, and agricultural projects in coordination with the Afghan government. During the deployment, eight brigade soldiers were killed in action.

I know all of this about the 509th because my son was assigned to this regiment. And was part of its 2011 deployment to Afghanistan. It was the responsibility of the unit he commanded to safely deliver these 4,500 men and women to the front lines and back. It was also his unit that was responsible for returning the bodies of the eight soldiers killed in action to their families.

“Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person - though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die...” 

As I read these words written by Paul to the church in Rome, it  was hard not to recall the stories of these eight soldiers that my son had shared with me. Stories of bravery and selflessness. Stories of tragedy and loss. Stories that, on this Memorial Day weekend, we remember, along with so many other stories of the men and women who have bravely served this country. Whom we honor this weekend. Who have given their lives for what seems to be a never-ending search for peace.

The peace, though, for which these eight soldiers sacrificed themselves is not the peace that Paul is talking about in our Romans text today. This peace is not a political peace, an external peace. Instead, it is a peace within. An internal peace. Shalom - that fullness and wholeness that we have talked about so much this year. 

“...[R]arely will anyone die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves God’s love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” 

This peace, this shalom, this inner wholeness - comes to us, not through a successful military campaign, but through the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. Who, through his death for all people - for all sinners - has fully reconciled us with God. And we, who have been given the gift of faith, are, therefore, no longer at war with God, but at peace. Experiencing that shalom. That fullness of relationship with God who proves God’s love for us through the death of God’s own Son, Jesus Christ. A love that is poured into our own hearts - that is gifted to us through the Holy Spirit.

It sounds so easy, doesn’t it? And, yet, we know it is hard. Because, even though we have been given this gift of faith and this reconciliation with God through Christ, we still struggle. Whether it is challenges at work or in our personal lives. Whether it is conflicts in our relationships at home or here or elsewhere. Whether it is loss and grief over the death of a loved one, whether expected or unexpected. Or over a broken relationship. Or just over our broken world...we struggle. And we wonder. Like Jesus on the cross that Good Friday, who cried out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” we wonder where God is in the midst of this pain and struggle.

Paul knew pain and struggle. Wracked with grief and shame over his own former life as a persecutor of the early believers. Grief and shame he continued to wrestle with and to name in future letters that he would write to those early churches after after he had been converted. Communities who were, themselves, often experiencing conflict and challenge. 

Paul knew pain and struggle. In his 2nd letter to the church in Corinth, a letter I might add was written while he was imprisoned in Rome before he was eventually executed, Paul shared what he had experienced as he had worked to carry out God’s mission. “Five times,” he wrote, “I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journey, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city...in the wilderness...at sea...from false brothers and sisters, in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked. And,” he concludes, “besides [all these] other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak?” he cries. “Who is made to stumble, and I am not indignant?” he shouts. 

Paul knew pain and struggle. But, he also knew that God knew pain and struggle. Because God had lived on earth, had experienced the challenges and heartbreak of Paul’s - and our own - humanity. God, who comes to earth. To us. To experience our same struggle and darkness. To be with us. In love.

Because that’s really the point, isn’t it? Love? As we are tested - as our faith is tested and refined through suffering, Paul writes that it is this suffering that produces endurance. That this endurance produces character. And that character produces hope. A hope that does not disappoint. Because it is a hope that is borne out of love. Out of a love that is grounded in the resurrection. A love that says that pain and suffering will not be the end. That death will not be the final word. But that through Christ’s death and resurrection, we experience life. And reconciliation with God. And peace. And hope. All of this - the result of love. Of God’s love. For you. And for me.

Two weeks ago, I shared with you the very difficult story of my father’s death by suicide. The time after his death was a time of deep darkness and confusion for me. Wondering why it had happened. Wondering what I might have done to prevent it.  Wondering how I might have shown better expressed to him how deeply he was loved. Not only by me, but especially by God. 

In was in that time of darkness. In that time of confusion and wondering that I found great comfort in words written in that same letter by Paul to the church in Corinth, words that come at the end of that famous “love” chapter that is so often read at weddings, but really intended for a congregation struggling with conflict and division: 

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”

Friends, God knows our pain because God knows us fully in Jesus. Yet, God also promises that, even in the midst of our confusion and despair and our dim understanding, God, in love, continues to work in our midst and in our world. To bring peace and hope to a broken humanity. This is the promise of Easter. This is our promise from God, for now and for that future time, when we will see God face to face.

May we trust in this promise. May we share it. And may it give us and all people peace and hope for the future. Amen.

Preached May 26, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 6
Readings: Romans 5:1-11; Matthew 11:28-30

Good News in the Garden

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. So 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.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and 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. They 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.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus 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.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus 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.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.  John 20:1-18 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our resurrected Lord, our Good Shepherd, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

One of the gifts that our shared ministry has brought to us has been the move to the Narrative Lectionary in both of our congregations. This has, at least for us, and I think for you at Shiloh, too--it has allowed us, first, to dwell more deeply into the rich traditions and stories of the Hebrew scriptures. Which were the traditions that Jesus and his disciples came out of. 

It has also allowed us to dwell more deeply in one gospel. Often, in the Revised Common Lectionary, we would jump between Gospels, especially during festival times, such as Easter and Christmas. Dwelling deeply in John this year has helped to open up for me and, hopefully, for you, this Fourth Gospel that we know as John.

Here, at Grace and Glory, there has been a small group of us who have been more deeply immersing ourselves in John outside of what we have heard on Sunday mornings. One of the things that we’ve noticed in this gospel is the importance of location. Jesus moves around a lot. From Galilee to Jerusalem and back. And to places in between.

So, as I was reading our text for tonight in chapter 20 of John and as I was preparing to preach, it was impossible for me to ignore its location. A garden.

Now, unlike the synoptic Gospels, John’s garden is not the Garden of Gethsemane. It is simply, a garden. It’s first mentioned in chapter 18, shortly before his arrest. (Jn 18:1-2)

This garden, in John, is a place where Jesus and his disciples frequently went. A place for them to be together. To hang out. To be friends. It was a place of intimacy. A place of relationship.

It was also a place of safety. When Judas comes to betray Jesus, along with the soldiers and the Jewish police, Jesus goes out of the garden to meet them. Leaving the rest of the disciples behind. 

And even when the altercation happens between Peter and Malchus, and Peter cuts off his ear, this occurs just outside the garden where the rest of the disciples remain, free from the violence that has just occurred.

Safe. Protected from harm. One’s mind goes back to the words that Jesus has spoken in an earlier discourse in chapter 10: “I am the gate of the sheep. Whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out and find pasture. They will have life. Abundant life.”

But the garden and its immediate surroundings are not only the setting for Jesus’ arrest, but also for his crucifixion and his burial. (Jn 19:41-42). 

This is typical for John. Just when we have a sense of place--that this garden is a place of safety and security, of intimacy and relationship, the gospel writer tosses in a contrast. This place of life and relationship is also a place of death and the seeming end of intimacy. 

John does this so well, this juxtaposition of contrasts: death and life, darkness and light, incarnation and ascension, humanity and divinity. All held so tightly together.

But the crucifixion and burial are not the end of John’s use of this location. It’s the setting for our text tonight. Mary comes to the tomb. Sees it open. And runs back to tell Peter and the beloved disciple that Jesus’ body has been taken away. 

Then, interestingly, Mary returns to the tomb. In the garden. She meets the angels. And then, unknowingly, meets Jesus. In the garden. So, it's no surprise that she should mistake him for the gardener. 

By locating the crucifixion and burial and first resurrection appearance in a garden, the gospel writer has taken us full circle back to the opening words of this Gospel. “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.” But, not only full circle to the beginning of John, but way back to Genesis--the reading we heard tonight. “In the beginning, God created…” And it brings our mind back to that first garden--the Garden of Eden. The place where God and God’s human creations abided together. Intimately. Lovingly. Abundantly.

This is what the resurrection points to and, particularly, the resurrection that is located in a garden. It is a message of life. Of abundant life with God. Of abiding. And intimacy. Of love and relationship.

While death may be the reality of life, resurrection is the promise that death is not the final end of life. That out of the darkness comes light. And life. Resurrection is nothing short of re-creation.

In the garden of the resurrection that morning, this is what Mary discovered. When, Jesus called her by name, there was recognition and intimacy. But, more than that, there was a re-defining for Mary. A re-creation of who she was. “Rabbouni,” she calls Jesus, using the very same title that the first disciples gave him. “Teacher,” she called him. Recognizing now that she, too, has been called as Jesus’ disciples. Because in John there are no set categories for who can be a disciple.

On this Easter eve, may you, too, hear your call from Jesus. Your own unique call. And may you live into it just as Mary did--as God’s new creation with a message to be shared with all the world. A message of love and intimacy and relationship. A message safety and hope. A message of life--of abundant life. Amen.

Fully. Intimately. Abundantly. As God’s new creation with a to be shared with all the world. Amen.

Preached March 31, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter Vigil
Readings: Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18; 8:6-18; 9:8-13; Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21; Daniel 3:1-29; Romans 6:3-11; John 20:1-18

Choose Love

When Judas was gone, Jesus said, "Now the Human One has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify the Human One in himself and will glorify him immediately. Little children, I'm with you for a little while longer. You will look for me--but, just as I told the Jewish leaders, I also tell you now--'Where I'm going, you can't come.'

I give you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, so you also must love each other. This is how everyone will know that you are my disciples, when you love each other. (John 13:31-35 CEB)

Love. That's our main topic today. Love.

Isn't love what the resurrection is all about? It seems so simple, doesn't it? Resurrection is love. Love is resurrection. No matter how you slice it, when you are talking Christ's resurrection, you are talking love.

And, today, in our lessons for this fifth Sunday of Easter, we are not only talking love. We are being told to "choose love."

If I were to go around this room today and ask you whether or not you choose love, I would dare say that everyone of you would answer, "Yes."  "Absolutely, positively, yes!" This is a warm, loving congregation. It is who we are. Besides, after all, who wouldn't choose love?

But, do we? Choosing love can be really hard. Choosing love can make us vulnerable. It can feel like we're taking too much of a chance sometimes, can't it? It can expose us to the possibility that our love might not be reciprocated. It might be a waste of our time, especially if we give it expecting something in return and don't get anything back. Choosing love can hurt, especially if the person we want to love doesn't see us as worthy of their love.

Yet, if we are truly the resurrection people we claim to be...if we, as the church, truly seek to be a partner with the Spirit at work in our world making all things new, then the only right choice for us is love. Our only choice is to be on the side of God and to be part of God's new creation and to choose love.

And, if we truly choose love, then our only other choice is to turn toward God and away from the influence of the world. To be in the world, but not of the world. To work toward a new way of living, a "new heaven and a new earth." Toward a place where God will come down and dwell with us.  A place transformed by God into something fully beyond our wildest imagination. To work toward the new Jerusalem instead of the global empire in which we currently life.

This new Jerusalem spoken of in our Revelation text today isn't some eternal place up in the heavens paved with golden streets. Unlike most of what we've heard in contemporary culture, this isn't a rapture; this new Jerusalem isn't a place for us to escape to from our current world--a place away from this messed up world to which God will rescue us.

No.  This new Jerusalem that God is creating is right here, right now. It's happening in our presence. In this very moment. Here and now the Spirit is at work in our world, creating a new world where every human being and all of creation might experience the joy and goodness and fullness of God's love.

And our job, as the church, is to walk alongside the Spirit--to partner with God in ways that allow God's power and Christ's love to be experienced in the world. Our job is to be involved in making God's dream come true in this world. Our job is to choose love.

But, once again, it's not easy to choose love, is it? To treat all people with love? To treat people as if they are no different from us, regardless of race or religion or class or gender or age or sexual orientation or political persuasion. It's not always easy to set aside the biases and prejudices that are so deeply ingrained in us, is it? Or to even recognize that we have bias and prejudice in the first place.

It's hard for us today. It was hard for the early church, too.  Look at our Acts reading. Hear the Jerusalem council grilling Peter as to why he was baptizing those Gentiles--those unclean Gentiles. It is hard for all of us, past and present to choose love.

This past week, as I drove home from my vacation in Texas, I listened to an audiobook. The name of the book was "Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking." I've wanted to read it for a long time, so I decided I would use my driving time efficiently and listen to it instead.

In it, the author Malcolm Gladwell, presents research on what is called the "adaptive unconscious." Our adaptive unconscious is our ability to use limited information from a very brief experience to come to a rapid conclusion--like when you reach a quick, gut-level decision about something or someone. He argues that a decision like this--one reached quickly and with limited data--is often better than one that is reached with much more information or a longer period of time.

Yet, there is also a dark side to our adaptive unconscious. Prejudices and biases operate at this same level, even in someone who doesn't consciously exhibit such behavior. To test whether or not one has unconscious bias, readers of his book are invited to take a test on a Harvard University website.

So, when I got home on Tuesday, I took one of several possible tests--a test to measure any implicit bias I might have toward African-Americans.

Now keep in mind that, although I grew up in very white South Dakota, our ranch was situated between two reservations--the Cheyenne and the Sioux. In Los Angeles, I lived in a very diverse area. Within 10-12 blocks from my house lived immigrants from Korea, El Salvador, the Philippines, Mexico, as well as African-Americans. There was a large Muslim mosque only a few blocks from my house and a Jewish temple within a quarter of a mile.

For ten years, I worked for an organization with a leadership that was predominantly African-American. For many years, I worked with undocumented workers, primarily from Mexico and Central America. I worked for three years along the Texas-Mexico border. I have many close friends who are Hispanic and Filipino and African American.

So, although I knew I might have some unconscious bias, I thought my test results might be okay.

Well, I was stunned!  The data compiled from my test suggested a "strong automatic preference for European American compared to African American." It was the highest level of unconscious bias possible on the test.

You see, it is hard to "choose love." Even when we consciously do choose it, trying to treat others with dignity and respect and as no different from us, our unconscious biases and prejudices creep in.  "Them." "Those people." "They." Not "us" or "we."

The only way for us to begin to put an end to making "us and them" distinctions is to begin to recognize and admit our biases and their impact on our relationships with those who are different from us. Racism, sexism, classism, ageism, heterosexism, and other biased behaviors and thinking are not godly. They are motivated by fear of the other and not by a love of humanity. They are not the result of choosing love.

And, yet, in spite of us...in spite of even our unconscious bias and prejudice, God continues to work in our world. God, who created this world and all living and life-giving things in it, continues to disrupt and overturn the walls and the barriers we create between each other or any bias and prejudice we may have.

"See, I am making all things new." This is our promise. It is a promise that is trustworthy and true. It is a promise for a new world--a world where God will dwell among us, where God will wipe every tear away, where there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. And where those who are thirsty will receive water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.

Let us working alongside the Holy Spirit, then. Let us seek to overcome our unconscious biases and prejudices.  Let us choose love.

Amen.

Preached April 24, 2016, at Chatfield Lutheran Church.

Drumstick Ice Cream Cones

John 20:19-31 (NRSV). When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.


Welcome to this Sunday, April 3rd, only 2 days after April Fool's Day. One day isn't enough, is it? For me, one day of jokes just isn't enough. You see, in my family, we didn't celebrate just one day. I come from a family of people who love to laugh and play practical jokes on each other.  So, that first day of April often dragged into three, frequently a week and, sometimes, up to a full month.  One of us would play a joke on another which led to the need to reciprocate and on and on and on.

So, today it just seemed right to play an April Fool’s joke on you.  It also seemed right because, in my home parish in Pasadena, this Sunday, the Second Sunday of Easter is always celebrated as Holy Hilarity Sunday.  A Sunday where we are invited to bring jokes -- respectful jokes, of course -- to share, and to laugh with each other.

Celebrating laughter on this second Easter Sunday is actually a long and very rich tradition in the church.  There is much history of congregations celebrating this day, sharing jokes and fun stories and engaging in pranks on each other.  The tradition comes from some of the church’s early theologians, where they reflected on Jesus’ resurrection from the dead as a huge practical joke that God played on Satan.   They called it the risus paschalis, meaning the Easter laugh. 

And, so, it seems very appropriate today for us to laugh.  For us to celebrate the joy of Easter in a fun way the week after we’ve celebrated it in a glorious way.  To mix faith and humor and to stir both deeply into our lives so that we might live more fully into being and sharing ourselves as people of the resurrection.

I think God must have an amazing sense of humor.  After all, look at the characters, in the Bible and here in this congregation, who God has gathered together as his people.  From those in the Hebrew scripture, to the disciples of Jesus, to us here today, God has a way of finding very imperfect people and forming and shaping all of us into people very well-suited to do the Church’s work--the work of sharing the good news of that Easter resurrection.

Notice that I used the word “imperfect.”  Often, I think that we get this notion in our heads that, in order to share the Gospel, you must have led a perfect life.  That, to be called, one must have lived in a way that is completely faithful and above reproach.  Well, I, for one, know better than that.  And all one needs to do to further disprove that theory is to look at the characters--the imperfect characters--in our reading today.

Let’s look at the disciples.  That first Easter morning, we know that Mary, after discovering that the gardener was, in fact, Jesus, runs back to the disciples and announces to them that she had seen the Lord.  And, then, proceeded to share with them everything Jesus had said.   

And, their response?  Well, they hid!  They went behind closed doors and hid because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities.  Why?  The story doesn’t say.  Perhaps they thought they might be accused of stealing Jesus’ body so they could start rumors of his resurrection.  Or perhaps they were afraid to rejoice publicly--to show joy over Jesus’ resurrection and incur the wrath of the authorities.  Whatever it was, they were afraid and they hid.  And, my guess was that, as they hid away, there was not much laughing.  Until, of course, Jesus appeared and showed them the marks of his resurrection.  Only then were they filled with joy.  Only then did they actually come of out of their own tomb of fear and truly enter into the resurrection.

And, then, there’s Thomas.  Oh, poor Thomas.  You see, I kind of get Thomas.  He was the realistic one, wasn’t he?  He was evidence-driven.  He wanted proof.  He wanted facts.  "Prove it to me."  (Aren’t we all a little bit like him?  How do I know God exists?  Why would God allow something like that to happen?  We are always looking for the proof, for the facts, for the answers.) And, then, just like with the disciples, Jesus appears.  And tells Thomas to put his finger in his hands and his hands into his side.  Here, Thomas!  Here’s your proof!  

And Thomas, without even having to put his fingers into the nail holes or into the sword slice in Jesus’ side--without touching the actual proof, he gets it.  He gets Jesus’ resurrection and immediately confesses, “My Lord and my God!”  Out of his tomb of doubt and into the resurrection.

Aren’t we so like Thomas and the rest of the disciples?  You see, I think sometimes the immensity of the resurrection is way too much for us to fully grasp.  That it’s way too big for us to truly understand.  And so, piece by piece.  Bit by bit.  Just like with the disciples, Christ comes into our presence and, little by little, we enter into the resurrection, into our own resurrection from fear and doubt.

In February of 2008, my sister was dying.  She had fought cancer over a lifetime, but had reached a point where she was tired of fighting.  She was ready to die.  Ready to be reunited with Christ.  Over the six months that she was in and out of the hospital, I urged her on.  In the midst of my own fear and doubt at losing her and what life would be like without her, I urged her to continue to fight.  

When she made the decision to come home to my house on hospice, I was devastated.  But, I was also determined that those last days would be the best for her.  So, I asked her what she wanted to eat, what her favorite foods were.  All she wanted were Drumstick ice cream cones.  

Over the next 7 days, friends and family came to visit, to gather around her and cry and laugh and share stories of amazing memories we had together.  And all the while, we ate Drumstick ice cream comes--4 boxes of Drumstick ice cream cones to be exact!  In that week--in the sharing of stories and ice cream, I experienced Christ’s presence.  And my own resurrection.  A resurrection out of my own tomb of fear and doubt and into the hope and joy of the resurrection with the knowledge that, no matter what, Christ would continue to be present with me.

You see fear and doubt and joy and gladness often walk hand-in-hand with each other.  All we have to do is open the Psalms to see this.  Yet, in their midst, our resurrected Lord is present, welcoming us into a new life, a resurrected life.  A life of joy and laughter, a life of love and freedom, a life of peace and wholeness, a life together with him as part of the body of Christ.  That, my friends, is the joy of the resurrection.  That is the basis for our laughter.  

And that is the reason that it is we, and not death or the devil, who ultimately have the last laugh! 

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached on Sunday, April 3, 2016, at Chatfield Lutheran Church.

Cicada Shells

John 20:1-18 (NRSV).  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.  So 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." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb.  The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.  He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in.  Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb.  He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself.  Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes. 

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and 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. They 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." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus 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 had laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus 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.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord;" and she told them that he has said these things to her.


You can’t imagine what we had been through. Jesus was dead.  Crucified.  The worst of deaths physically, like hanging on the end of a rope for hours.  The worst of deaths--personally, socially.   For the worst of criminals, the outcast of society, tarred and feathered, Letter A on your dress for adultery, crucify him, you fraud, you cancer on society.  

And we had put all our eggs in that one basket.  Jesus.  Especially me.  It was I who said.  You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.  I was the leader, or at least one of the leaders.   The kingdom of God was at hand.  But now.  Well, the future was cut off.  DEAD.

And then Mary Magdalene came on the third day.  We were still sleeping in our beds.  There’s some sense of comfort in sleeping in, and she came to me and John and said some grave robbers have taken the body.    But let me tell you about Mary M. There was something about her. She could see into Jesus' eyes and know him. More than any of us, she knew his compassion, his forgiveness. She knew how "alive" he was. And the boldness of her devotion---well, it out shown ours last Friday. We ran. she stayed.

But now this crazy story- grave robbers- she was a woman, right, and so by definition, not be trusted to have accurate recall of events.  We all know there is a reason that women were not allowed to be witnesses in the court. Mary M really loved Jesus.  He had totally turned her life around, and so, I’m sure her emotions clouded her --- rationality. 

Nevertheless, we loved her too and well, we humored her.

Ah, Peter. Yes, well, Peter and I have an interesting relationship.  He often called me Mary M., just to distinguish me from all of the other Mary’s.  I was the Mary who Jesus had healed from seven demons.  After that happened, well, I and several other women followed Jesus and the rest of the disciples and helped take care of them. 

In another time, we would have been considered their equals. Yet, in that time, we kept our place. But, with Jesus.  Well, with Jesus it was different. There never seemed to be a distinction.  In fact, at times, it seemed as though Jesus and I were closer to each other than he was with the others--with the male disciples. We were very close. 

On that horrible day, when he was dying on the cross, I was there along with his mother and only a few others.  I was there and witnessed life draining out of his body.  His very life...

But, back to the story...that morning it was dark when I went to the tomb.   There had not been time before sundown on Friday--the start of the Sabbath--to anoint his body.  (This was something we women did.  We never anointed men when they were alive--only when they were dead.)  So, that morning, I went there in the dark to finish what we should have done before Jesus was placed in the tomb. 

I arrived there just before the dawn.  You know that time of day, when the light is just beginning to break through the darkness.  It’s such a hopeful moment.  Yet, when I arrived at the tomb, I was stunned.  It was open! The stone had been rolled away! 

My first thought was grave robbers.  (They were becoming a big problem.  They would steal valuables buried with the bodies.)  I was heartsick.  I immediately turned around and ran back to get the disciples--well, to get Peter and John.  I trusted them.

Well, we ran.  John got there first,  and lo and behold, Mary M was right.  The tomb was empty,  John got there first, but he stayed at the opening, but I rushed right in.  No surprise to you who know me.  But it was a strange site for grave robbers.

Let me compare it to cicada shells.  You know those cicadas. The 17-year locusts that come out of the ground.   As a kid I would go through the woods and collect those shells they would leave behind.  I liked them because they were evidence that a miracle had occurred. They looked dead, but they were just shells. Everyone one of them had a neat slit down its back, where the living creature inside of it had escaped, pulling new legs, new eyes, new wings out of that dry brown body and taking flight.  At night I could hear their high song in the trees.   If you asked them, I’ll bet none of them could tell you where they left their old clothes.

How like Peter, a man, to use a cicada as an example!  Me, well, I might have used a butterfly--that beautiful creature that emerges from this brown, dingy cocoon.  Cicada shells.  Oh, Peter (shaking her head).

But that is what we found in that tomb.  Two piles of old clothes.  Mary didn’t even see it.  She was crying--too emotional.  She just saw the wide-open tomb and ran for us.  “The body is stolen”-   Grave robbers. 

Only why would grave robbers have bothered to undress him first?  When I went in, I saw the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head was rolled up in a place by itself.  Why go to that trouble if you’re stealing the body?

Me, emotional?  Well, maybe. 

Finally, he admits it.  He WAS emotional.  We were ALL emotional.  Over the past few days we had witnessed our beloved Jesus tortured and mocked and, finally, crucified on the cross.  We were devastated.  And, on top of that, we were terrified.  Why do you think I went to the tomb in the dark?  We were afraid that we would be next. 

None of it was making any sense.

Because, at that point, all we saw was the empty tomb. All we saw was a cicada shell. Really, we saw nothing, but emptiness and absence.    It was a pretty fragile beginning.  A mighty fragile beginning for a religion that has lasted 2000 years.  Resurrection had to be more than an empty cicada shell, empty grave clothes and empty tomb.

As hard as it is for me to accept it, it seems that the rest of the story belongs to Mary.  Thanks be to God for Mary M! 

At the time, Peter and John didn’t know that I had quietly followed them back to the tomb.  I followed them to see what they would find.  They first saw ME when they came out of the tomb and I was there crying.  After they returned home, I looked inside.  What I saw then might have knocked someone else to their knees.  There were two angels.  Dazzling white.  Dazzling bright.  Yet, it’s as if I didn’t even notice their presence.  My focus--my ENTIRE focus--was on the fact that Jesus’ body was gone.  Gone!

They, then, spoke to me, and asked me why I was weeping.  I told them why.  Could they have even known how devastated I was?  How grave robbers had taken the most precious thing, the only thing we still had--the body of our Lord and Savior?  Why would they do something like that?

I turned to leave. As I did, well, there was this man standing there.  He looked like a gardener.  It seemed right to assume this.  After all, Jesus’ tomb WAS in a garden. 

He, too, asked me why I was crying?  (Why is everyone so focused on the fact that I was crying?  Really!)  So, I was a little irritated when I told him.  When, I accused him, really, of stealing Jesus body.  I don’t think I actually believed he had taken it.  I was just so emotional.  And, then, he said my name.  Mary.  When he called me by my name, by my own name, by my very own personal name, well, then, I knew.  I knew it was him.  He was alive.  Jesus was alive! 

I said, “Rabbouni.”  (This means teacher, it’s a title used by students speaking to their rabbi.)  In that very moment, when he called me by my own name, I knew his voice and I knew I was being called--called into a new kind of relationship.  That I was being called as his apostle.  Called to share the news--to tell the others that he was alive!  And that’s what I did. I was the first to tell them that Jesus had risen!

He had outgrown his cocoon (smiles at Mary), which was too small a focus for the resurrection. The risen One had people to see and things to do. The resurrection starts with the cry of grief, an empty place, but it’s all about a familiar voice.  It’s tiny… like the fingers of a newborn. Seemingly insignificant.. Like the grain that lands in the clam’s open mouth.  Often overlooked...like a gardener.  

What happened in the tomb was entirely between Jesus and God.  For the rest of us-- for you, resurrection, new life, really began the moment the gardener said “Mary.” 

When that happened...when the crucified and risen Jesus called me by my name, well, I could feel God’s love poured into me--God’s unending, infinite love.  It’s the same for all of us--when we hear the voice of boundless love speak to our loneliness, when we hear the voice of overflowing comfort speak to our hidden hurts, when we hear the voice of soaring challenge speak to our meaninglessness and busyness, when we hear the voice of abundant life speak into our cocoons of grief, fear, anxiety, illness, depression, and addiction---when we hear God’s voice speak to us, well, that’s when the resurrection begins for each one of us. 

Whatever it is that causes you to want to curl up in bed in a fetal position and hope it all goes away.  Whatever it is, whether it’s the threat of terrorism, fear-mongering leaders, overwhelming busyness, fractured relationships.  Whatever it is. 

Today.  This day.  This Easter day we are offered more than cicada or cocoon shells, more than an empty tomb.  Our crucified and risen Lord comes to us in our baptism, calls us each by name and claims us as his own. (Walk to baptismal font.) “You are my child.  You, my beloved, are sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with my cross forever.

And in the bread and wine of Holy Communion, our crucified and risen Lord calls us each by name and offers life and promise.  (Walk to altar.)  This is my life, my loves.  My deepest desire is to give it to you.  Take and eat.  Take and drink.  This is all I have, given and shed for you. 

Called by name. Given in love.  For you.

Amen. (Said together.)

(Preached on Easter Sunday, March 27, 2016, with Pastor Mark Docken.)