Seeking: Who is invited?

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad, so the wedding hall was filled with guests.

“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.” --Matthew 22:1-14 (NRSV)

Wow. Just wow. Okay. So, who would like to interpret this parable this morning?

Before we dig into this text in earnest, there are a couple of things I’d like to mention. 

First, we have to be careful not to jump too quickly into the allegorical interpretation. An allegory is a story or picture or poem that can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, usually a moral or political meaning. It’s important for us, especially with Jesus’ parables, that we first look closely at the story, before we jump to trying to figure out its allegorical meaning. We try to understand what is going on, first, because doing this can then help us draw out its meaning for us. 

The second caution is about hyperbole. 

In Matthew, in particular, Jesus’ parables contain a lot of hyperbole, of exaggeration. If you think about the community that Matthew is writing to, a community some 50 years after Jesus ascended that has been tossed out from their religious and social community, it might be easier to understand that, as Matthew captures Jesus’ parables, there is an edge to them. Whether it is anger or cynicism, Matthew’s Jesus exaggerates. For far too long, the church has used scripture, including this parable, against the Jewish people in a way that encourages anti-Semitism. Jesus’ parables contain a lot of hyperbole - exaggeration. Why? To catch the reader’s attention. To draw them into the story. Sometimes, to shock them. To drive home a point. Does that mean, then, that we should take Jesus’ parables literally? Probably not. But, we also should not miss the point. We should take it seriously.

So, what do we first see in this story? We have a king who is inviting guests to a banquet. But, even before this, we have this opening phrase: Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables…” So there are other parables that have been told before this one to “them.” If we back up into chapter 21, we see that Jesus and his disciples are in Jerusalem. We’ve skipped ahead because we will read this on Palm Sunday. 

The first thing Jesus does is to go into the temple and overturn the moneychanger tables. Then, Jesus curses the fig tree. This is an irritable Jesus we see in chapter 21. Soon, the religious leaders confront him and challenge his authority to teach in the temple. This is followed by two parables that are spoken directly to the chief priests and elders. And not in a good way. By the end of chapter 21, they want to arrest him. But, they are afraid because Jesus is so popular - thought by the crowds to be a prophet.

Then comes this parable in our text today, spoken to "them" - the chief priests and elders.

Now, something else you need to know is that in ancient times it was the custom to invite guests to a banquet in two phases. First, messengers would be sent to the guests, several days in advance, to invite them. And to tell them to be ready at an approximately time. The second invitation would be sent when the feast was ready. The guests were now to come. 

It appears that, in the story, we first learn about this second invitation. So, those invited have had fair warning to make sure they are available to attend. But, they violate the ancient rules of hospitality by refusing to come, something close to rebellion. Then, asked again, two of the invited guests walk away to go back to their business affairs. Others seize the servants, attack them and kill them. 

Is it any wonder that this king is furious? Wouldn’t, if something like this happened in our day - wouldn’t there be repercussions?

But, there is still a wedding feast waiting. So servants are once again sent by the monarch into the streets to invite everyone they can find. Good and bad. And they gather them into the wedding hall to begin this great feast. 

Maybe, up to this point, we kind of get this story. It’s about invitation and hospitality. About how God invites everyone, good and bad. And about some - particularly privileged - who simply ignore or even refuse God’s invitation. Or worse yet, seek to harm God’s servants.

But, then, we get to the last part of the story. 

Who can make sense of this? How could it be expected that someone gathered up off the streets into the great hall would need to wear a special garment, much less even own one?

What we need to understand is that traditionally the king would have had appropriate garments ready for his guests. The individual did not put on the garment provided - perhaps even refused to put on the garment,, thus, shaming the king. He is cast out not because of who he is, but because of what he chooses to do. Or not to do. In this, he dishonors the king.

So what does this mean for us? (Now, we get to the allegorical interpretation.). There are likely many meanings to this parable. But, perhaps one interpretation is that this is about “cheap grace.” We’ve talked about this before. This is a phrase first written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the years leading up to the second world war, as he and others tried to engage the broader church in stopping Hitler and his movement. Cheap grace, as he writes, is a grace without repentance. Or sacrifice. And, ultimately without a cross. It’s accepting God’s invitation, but refusing to “put on the garment of faith,” as Paul puts it. To truly live as one of God’s people. To do the work of discipleship - prayer, fasting, giving to the poor. Standing up to evil and power, especially when it is harming those whom society has pushed to the edges. It’s refusing to put in our time or energy or resources to serve God. It’s refusing to sacrifice. 

To be a disciple requires costly grace. Because it calls us to fully follow - to follow Jesus Christ. This kind of grace is costly. Because it cost Jesus his life.

So where are you in your Lenten journey? Have you, three weeks in given up on any fast or practice you decided to take on? Why is that? Or, perhaps, you have remained steadfast. How might this practice be more fully incorporated into your life as a disciple beyond Lent?

May we, this Lent, accept God’s invitation to the wedding banquet. But, may we also willingly put on the garment of costly grace. The garment of sacrifice. The garment worthy of the bridegroom himself - Jesus Christ, Son of God.

Amen.

Preached Sunday, March 12, 2023, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Lent 3

Readings: Matthew 22:1-14; Psalm 45:6-7

Seeking: How are we to forgive and be forgiven?

“If your brother or sister sins against you, go and correct them when you are alone together. If they listen to you, then you’ve won over your brother or sister. But if they won’t listen, take with you one or two others so that every word may be established by the mouth of two or three witnesses. But if they still won’t pay attention, report it to the church. If they won’t pay attention even to the church, treat them as you would a Gentile and tax collector. I assure you that whatever you fasten on earth will be fastened in heaven. And whatever you loosen on earth will be loosened in heaven. Again I assure you that if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, then my Father who is in heaven will do it for you. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I’m there with them.”

Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, how many times should I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Should I forgive as many as seven times?”

Jesus said, “Not just seven times, but rather as many as seventy-seven times. Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. When he began to settle accounts, they brought to him a servant who owed him ten thousand bags of gold. Because the servant didn’t have enough to pay it back, the master ordered that he should be sold, along with his wife and children and everything he had, and that the proceeds should be used as payment. But the servant fell down, kneeled before him, and said, ‘Please, be patient with me, and I’ll pay you back.’ The master had compassion on that servant, released him, and forgave the loan.

“When that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him one hundred coins. He grabbed him around the throat and said, ‘Pay me back what you owe me.’

“Then his fellow servant fell down and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I’ll pay you back.’ But he refused. Instead, he threw him into prison until he paid back his debt.

“When his fellow servants saw what happened, they were deeply offended. They came and told their master all that happened. His master called the first servant and said, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you appealed to me. Shouldn’t you also have mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?’ His master was furious and handed him over to the guard responsible for punishing prisoners, until he had paid the whole debt.

“My heavenly Father will also do the same to you if you don’t forgive your brother or sister from your heart.” --Matthew 18:15-35 (CEB)

I’d like you to think, for just a moment, about how stories help us to picture and imagine things differently than simply hearing someone state an explanation or a rule. As we heard last week, Jesus often uses stories - or parables - to teach. We’re going to have a little fun this morning. I invite you to turn to a neighbor or two and together brainstorm as many parables from the Bible as you can think of in three minutes. Select one person to write them down as you go. Hint: We heard three of them in last week’s reading. Ready? Set. Go. 

Why do you think Jesus chooses to use so many parables in his teaching? Many of Jesus’ parables begin with the words, “the kingdom of God is like…” Jesus is trying to explain to his disciples what life is like in God’s kingdom.

As we continue through the Sundays of Lent, we will be discovering many different glimpses of God’s kingdom. We’ll be asking a lot of questions about these to try to understand how we might learn to live these ways in our present time to help make this community and, then, our broader lives, a little more like God’s kingdom as we await its fulfillment. God will bring the kingdom fully, but we can make our spaces look a little more like it each day. 

Today, Jesus is talking about forgiveness in the kingdom of God. And, particularly, about forgiveness within community. When I use the word “community,” how do you understand that? What are some of your communities? Allow time for responses. 

Matthew, the gospel writer, was writing this for his specific community. It was a community that was under stress. Mostly Jewish, they had been cast out of the temple, out of an entire way of life. On top of that, they were experiencing the very real possibility of persecution. So, part of Matthew’s goal in narrating this parable from Jesus is to help his community learn how to be in relationship with one another, even in the midst of these major stressors.

It begins with civility. I’d like to read a paragraph from a book written by Gilbert Rendle. He is a church consultant who works with resolving church conflict. This is what he writes in the opening introduction to his book, entitled, Behavioral Covenants in Congregations: A Handbook for Honoring Differences: 

My work as a senior consultant with the Alban Institute regularly puts me into working relationships with congregations that are experiencing conflict and in which members exhibit behaviors which stand in contrast to my understanding of the teachings of their faith. I have witnessed small groups in which some members demand that other members leave the room because they do not trust speaking in front of them. I have interviewed congregational members who have leveled accusations against others based not on what they themselves have experienced or witnessed but rather on hearsay information repeated and embellished by friends whose personal preferences were not being met. I have worked with a congregation in which very wealthy and powerful members of the governing board held a formal victory party in the home of one of the leaders to celebrate their success in forcing their rector not only out of the church but out of town as well. He was sufficiently hurt and damaged that he would tell no one, not even his bishop, where he had gone. I have counseled with clergy who have considered or chosen to take legal action against their governing boards, casting all blame on the board rather than accepting their part in a difficult relationship that would require change and the seeking of forgiveness in order to be productive in ministry.

Do any of you know any congregations or clergy like that? (It may be too scary to answer that.) And, now, a harder and, honestly for me, a scary question, do any of you experience any of that here? Or with me? (If your answer is yes to that question, I encourage you to speak to me.)

Rendle goes on to add this: 

Although my relationship as a consultant makes me privy to more extreme examples of uncivil behavior than others who live and work in congregations, all clergy and laity commonly encounter behaviors that fall short of faith standards. I suggest that such behaviors are rooted, in part, in an inheritance based in cultural and congregational assumptions that we are now beginning to understand. Chief among those assumptions is the current notion that as individuals we do not have to defer to the need of the larger group, be it family, congregation, or community.

This book was first written in 1989, then updated in 1999 - nearly 25 years ago. I’m wondering, if we look at our world today, has much changed? Do we demand that our individual rights, or individual beliefs, are more important than communal rights or beliefs? 

What is the goal of conflict? That may seem an odd question, because I don’t think we often consider that there is a goal to conflict. The goal of conflict is reconciliation. Reconciliation with one another so that the community may be whole. Always. That is God’s definition of justice. When there is conflict within community or between community members, the whole community is impacted.

So, what do we do when we experience hurt from another? Jesus gives us a clear cut path. In fact, Jesus orders this clear cut path. First, we go to that sibling to address it. In other words, we don’t go on social media. We don’t triangulate - meaning we don’t go complain about that person to anyone else. We don’t even go to the pastor. We go to that person who has hurt us. And we try to reconcile with them. Period. Notice that, in our text, when 2 or more are gathered, Jesus says he is present. So, if we believe that, how might it change how we approach the person who has hurt us, knowing that Jesus is standing beside us in that conversation? Or how does that change our response if we are the one who has caused the hurt?

But, the direct approach may not always work. So then, Jesus tells us to take one or two community members with us to speak with that person. To try to find reconciliation. 

And that may not work. It is then to be reported to the entire community. And, if that doesn’t work then, as Jesus says, you should treat them as you would a tax collector or Gentile. But not so fast. Anyone remember how Jesus treated tax collectors and Gentles? That’s right. He took them to lunch. He didn’t cut them off. He took them to lunch. What does that say?

Our relationships matter. Here in this community and outside this place in your other communities. They matter to God, so they should matter to us. 

There’s a flip side to this conflict resolution that we also have to notice - the entire point of the parable Jesus tells. It’s about forgiveness. When we go to someone who has hurt us. And when (notice I said when) - when they acknowledge that they have hurt us and they repent and seek forgiveness from us, we are to forgive them. It doesn’t mean that, depending on the deepness of the hurt, it will happen immediately. In cases of abuse, it may take a lifetime. But, we, if we have been the victim of harm, are also called to do the work of forgiving. Not just within ourselves, but with the perpetrator of harm. As difficult as that may be. To not forgive is to keep ourselves trapped in the effects of the harm. Or as Marjorie Thompson writes, “Forgiveness means the power of the original wound’s power to hold us trapped is broken.” 

Because, ultimately, what is at stake here isn’t just a matter of debt and repayment, or sin and forgiveness, but the balance and integrity - the authenticity - of the community. Because this is the example we have from our Creator. Mercy. Or grace. Which is the thread that holds the kingdom together. 

One final note: In Hebrew there are something like five different words for sin. All different types of sin. But, one of those words defines the sin of not believing you are forgiven. I dare say that some of us - perhaps, many of us - have difficulty believing that we are forgiven by one another. And, even more so that we are forgiven by God.

May we, through the power of the Holy Spirit, live into forgiveness and into being authentic followers of Jesus as we build these authentic communities of faith. Amen.

Preached Sunday, February 26, 2023, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Lent 1

Readings: Matthew 18:15-35; Psalm 32:1-2

Seeking - Hard Questions for a Deeper Faith: Is This the Fast I Choose?

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

Then he called a little child over to sit among the disciples, and said, “I assure you that if you don’t turn your lives around and become like this little child, you will definitely not enter the kingdom of heaven. Those who humble themselves like this little child will be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.

“As for whoever causes these little ones who believe in me to trip and fall into sin, it would be better for them to have a huge stone hung around their necks and be drowned in the bottom of the lake. How terrible it is for the world because of the things that cause people to trip and fall into sin! Such things have to happen, but how terrible it is for the person who causes those things to happen! If your hand or your foot causes you to fall into sin, chop it off and throw it away. It’s better to enter into life crippled or lame than to be thrown into the eternal fire with two hands or two feet. If your eye causes you to fall into sin, tear it out and throw it away. It’s better to enter into life with one eye than to be cast into a burning hell with two eyes. --Matthew 18:1-9 (CEB) 

When my son, Michael, was little, we often had our best conversations before and after I went to work, as I would drive him back and forth to preschool. At one point - about the time he was 3 years old - he began to ask questions. A lot of questions. Endless questions. (Perhaps you have had or are currently having that same experience. Or perhaps you are the one asking those questions.) 

Why is the sun in the sky? He might ask. Because, God placed it there to give us warmth and light during the day. Where does it go when it’s cloudy? It doesn’t go anywhere. The clouds are just covering it up. Where do clouds come from? You get the idea. Questions. A lot of questions. Endless questions.

Today, we begin the season of Lent. We are leaning this year into a theme, entitled Seeking: Hard Questions for a Deeper Faith. I will be asking you a lot of questions. They may, as with my son, feel endless. Yet, asking questions is important. More on that in a little bit. 

So, of course, our text tonight opens with a question. Not a question asked by a child, but by adults. By Jesus’ disciples. Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? I’m not sure there was any ill intent underneath this question. Unlike in the other gospels, there are no disciples that seem to be jostling for power. It is a question asked out of a very cultural framework. An expected way of being that has been learned as part of becoming an adult. That having different status in the world or in a community or among the disciples is just the way it is. 

Notice that, instead of answering them right away, Jesus first calls a little child over to sit among them.

For you and I, while this may see a little unusual, for the disciples it was likely a little scandalous. In the ancient world, righteousness was typically centered on an adult, male worldview. Children were not considered part of the social, religious, or economic world. They were considered insignificant. Especially vulnerable to disease. And hunger. And marginalization. They were seen as being incapable of rational thought. Often viewed with suspicion and seen as being prone to violence and unpredictable outbursts. (Think toddler tantrums.) This behavior strongly contrasted with the preferred norm of an orderly adult. Because of this had no status in this world. None. 

So, for Jesus to call forward a child to use as an illustration for this teaching moment - well, the disciples must have been a little upset by this, especially after asking what, for them in their culture, seemed like a perfectly reasonable question. Because, if one has been inculturated to believe that status is everything (sound familiar?), it might feel a little insulting to be given a show and tell moment that uses a child to teach it. 

Jesus tells them they must be more childlike. Not to be children, but childlike. 

What is it about children that Jesus wants the disciples to see? Is it that naivete - the way in which they look at the world through eyes of wonder? Or perhaps it's, as with my son and his questions, a sense of curiosity about how the world works? Or maybe it’s because of the way children seem to be so teachable, so open to new things and new ways and new people? Or perhaps it’s all of the above?

These verses are part of the fourth of five discourses of Jesus in Matthew - what is known as the community discourse for its instruction on communal living. This discourse was likely written to instruct the early churches on how to build community and to deal with conflicts within the community and between one another.  The childlike nature that Matthew is trying to teach his community through Jesus’ response to the disciples question is that of curiosity. And wonder. And openness. It is a way of life Jesus is inviting them into - a way that is counter-cultural, opposite to what we learn as adults. That is not at all concerned about status, but about ensuring that everyone in the community is lifted up, particularly those who are naive in the faith. Those viewed as insignificant. Those who are the most vulnerable in our faith communities. 

It’s a direct contrast to those whom God, through the prophet, calls out in our first text. These are the ones Isaiah is so frustrated with because their priorities are so skewed. People who appear to be deeply religious. Who appear to seek God. Who appear to delight God. Who appear to draw near to God. Their actions, however, are completely disconnected from what they say they believe. In keeping the fast, they think they are seeking God’s ways. But, Isaiah calls out their hypocrisy - as Jesus does with the disciples in a somewhat gentler way. 

The reason that God has not heard their cries or noticed them in their fasting, Isaiah tells them, is because it is entirely self-serving. They observe the fasting rituals, while at the same time they are guilty of oppressing their workers and living in discord with their neighbors. But worse, they neglect those with real need in their communities - the hungry, the homeless, and those without adequate clothing. As theologian Sally McFague so famously said, “If God is absent from this world, it is because we are.” 

Their fast is not God’s fast.

The fast God desires in Isaiah is the same way of living Christ calls the disciples - and us - to in Matthew. To fast from isolationism and stigmatizing and and lean into a way of curiosity and reaching out. To fast from identifying people with status and, rather, focusing on hospitality and welcome. To fast from cynicism and doubt and, instead, marveling with wonder at the ways of God, who seeks to build, to restore, to feed, to cloth, to care, and to repair individuals and communities. A God who seeks to mend the world.

Friends, on this night, as we have put on the metaphorical sackcloth of repentance and have received the ashes that remind us of our own mortality, may we be reminded that there is resurrection after death. And may we live into it with a new way of fasting this season - the fast that we are called to this Lent: to be repairers of the breach and restorers of the street. What a beautiful image of healing and restoration for ourselves, our faith communities, our world! 

And so, here is the first of many questions. Of a lot of questions to come.

Which fast will you choose?

Preached Wednesday, February 22, 2023, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Ash Wednesday

Readings: Matthew 18:1-9, Isaiah 58:1-12, Psalm 146:7c-10

Learning to Follow: Who Will You Be?

Then the Spirit led Jesus up into the wilderness so that the devil might tempt him. After Jesus had fasted for forty days and forty nights, he was starving. The tempter came to him and said, “Since you are God’s Son, command these stones to become bread.”

Jesus replied, “It’s written, People won’t live only by bread, but by every word spoken by God.”

After that the devil brought him into the holy city and stood him at the highest point of the temple. He said to him, “Since you are God’s Son, throw yourself down; for it is written, I will command my angels concerning you, and they will take you up in their hands so that you won’t hit your foot on a stone.”

Jesus replied, “Again it’s written, Don’t test the Lord your God.”

Then the devil brought him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. He said, “I’ll give you all these if you bow down and worship me.”

Jesus responded, “Go away, Satan, because it’s written,You will worship the Lord your God and serve only him.” The devil left him, and angels came and took care of him.

Now when Jesus heard that John was arrested, he went to Galilee. He left Nazareth and settled in Capernaum, which lies alongside the sea in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali. This fulfilled what Isaiah the prophet said:

Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,

        alongside the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles,

    the people who lived in the dark have seen a great light,

        and a light has come upon those who lived in the region and in shadow of death.

From that time Jesus began to announce, “Change your hearts and lives! Here comes the kingdom of heaven!” --Matthew 3:1-17, 4:1-17 (CEB)

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

Have you ever heard of the Dead Sea Scrolls? If so, what do you know about them? (Sidenote: Did you know that one of the fragments left behind includes language that suggests that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married?) 

It is believed that these scrolls belonged to the Essenes. The Essenes were a Jewish sect that arose around during the time we call the Second Temple period in Judaism - that time between the Hebrew scriptures and the New Testament. During this time, there was a growing belief that a Messiah would come to overthrow Israel’s foreign occupation and install a period of peace. The Essenes held this belief. They lived an ascetic lifestyle in a remote wilderness area. They believed the apocalypse was imminent and that, when it came, it would begin a new time. A new Messianic age. This age was to be characterized by repentance for Israel. A call to turn back. To turn back to God so that this new time might be ushered in. 

John the Baptizer, it is believed, was an Essene. As he preached this repentance - this call for Israel to turn back to God - as he preached this on the margins of the centers of power - on the outskirts of Jerusalem, he picked up a large following, many of them coming from Jerusalem and surrounding regions. That the Pharisees and Sadducees show up in the story, in this liminal space near the Jordan where John is preaching, says something. And, from their perspective, it is not something good. But from the perspective of John the Baptizer - his place at the margins sets the stage for Jesus to enter into this same liminal space. 

You may wonder why we today have juxtaposed this story of Jesus’ baptism with that of his wilderness temptation. Too often in our reading of scripture and, especially in our lectionary texts, we treat each story as unique and set apart. But, the truth is that they are all connected. As John is baptizing Jesus the heavens open. This same word is used in Isaiah and Ezekiel to suggest that the heavens open to reveal God’s purpose. That purpose is to be found in Jesus. God’s Son. The Beloved One. The visible manifestation of God in the world. In human flesh and blood. 

But, then. And “then” is exactly the word that is used to begin our second story from Matthew. But, then, that same Spirit that descended and gently rested on Jesus - that same Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness. Jesus, like John, moves into that liminal space. For 40 days. Like Israel wandering for 40 years. For a purpose. To inaugurate - or birth - a new age of God. 

It is there, in the wilderness, where Jesus meets Satan. 

In the Hebrew Bible, Satan is not really an evil figure, more like a prosecutor on the heavenly council. But, once again in the Second Temple period, the concept of Satan - like that of Messiah - develops further. Satan became a more powerful figure. An adversarial one. The personification of evil. The leader of demons acting in direct opposition to the kingdom of God. Yet, even in this dichotomy of good and evil, God was still seen as being fully in charge of history. 

We see this in the story of Jesus’ temptation. Satan is a wily character, using scripture in a way to deceive. Offering Jesus authority over all the kingdoms of the world - as if Satan actually has ownership and control over all the kingdoms of the world. 

But, the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness for one reason. One primary reason. It is to show that One and One only has dominion over all the kingdoms of the world. That One is God, visibly manifested in Jesus. This is who Jesus is - the kind of ruler Jesus is. 

 

But, Matthew also wants us to know what kind of ruler Jesus isn’t. When given the “opportunity” to prove his special status, Jesus demonstrates restraint. He doesn’t use his power to satisfy his own appetite or to prove his invincibility. Neither does he seize on the opportunity to acquire all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor by worshiping Satan. Why? Because Jesus is faithful to God. And because this ruler - this Messianic One who will fulfill Israel’s hopes, perhaps not in the way they anticipate - does not rule with unbridled appetites, arrogance, or tyranny.

You and I. We, like Jesus, are also called to be the visible manifestation of God in this place and time, called and baptized as Jesus was. God looks at us through him and says, “You. You are my beloved.” And when we turn away, when we stray, when we get lost, God calls us into repentance, that turning back to God. Where once again, we are reminded of whose we are and how we are to live.

And then. Because even as God’s called people, we are not immune from times in the wilderness. Then, when we find ourselves in the midst of the wilderness, tempted by pride. Desiring power over others. Wishing for more and more - for all the possessions of the world. It is there, in those wilderness times, that we are faced with our own questions of identity. Who are we? What does it mean to be a baptized child of God? And how will we live into this identity? When life is hard, it is when our baptismal identity is the most challenged. How will we respond when we are stressed, overtired, anxious, angry, despondent, hurt? Or when our communities face threats - whether internal, or external? Who will we be? Really?

We look to Jesus for that example of how we are to be the visible manifestations of God in the world. Jesus shows us that it is when our lives are most difficult that we choose who we will be. Like Jesus, we will be hungry. We will have times when we are tempted to doubt God’s faithfulness. We will be tempted to reach for power, rather than to live the life of a servant. It is in the wilderness where we will be tested. And transformed.

To live into our baptismal identity - to live as a child of God in the world - we must serve God, even when things are hard. This is when we choose just what it means to be a child of God.

“If you are the Son of God,” Satan challenges Jesus. And us. 

If you are a child of God, who will you be?  

Preached Sunday, January 15, 2023, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Second Sunday after Epiphany

Readings: Matthew 3:1-17, Matthew 4:1-17

 

From Generation to Generation: We Can Choose a Better Way

This is how the birth of Jesus Christ took place. When Mary his mother was engaged to Joseph, before they were married, she became pregnant by the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband was a righteous man. Because he didn’t want to humiliate her, he decided to call off their engagement quietly. As he was thinking about this, an angel from the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife, because the child she carries was conceived by the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you will call him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” Now all of this took place so that what the Lord had spoken through the prophet would be fulfilled:

    Look! A virgin will become pregnant and give birth to a son,

        And they will call him, Emmanuel. (Emmanuel means “God with us.”)

When Joseph woke up, he did just as an angel from God commanded and took Mary as his wife. But he didn’t have sexual relations with her until she gave birth to a son. Joseph called him Jesus. 

--Matthew 1:18-25 (CEB)

Holy is God’s name, who shows mercy to everyone, from one generation to the next, for those who honor God. Amen.

I’ve mentioned to you before that, when I was 14 years old, my father committed suicide. Painful and traumatic as that experience was for our family, it was made even more painful by the response of my paternal grandfather. My father’s father. Who blamed my mother for my dad’s suicide. Who in his own hurt and pain over the death of his son, my father, chose to strike out. To hurt her. 

Today, we hear a similar story. A story of pain and hurt. But, it is a story with a different ending. A story that teaches us that we can choose a better way.

Being engaged in Joseph’s day was a fully contractual affair. A legally binding contract. Usually decided upon by two fathers. In other words, an arranged marriage. This was the situation between Mary and Joseph. But then, Joseph learns that Mary is pregnant. As far as he knows, his new wife has been unfaithful to him. As a faithful Torah follower, Joseph knows that, in the case of adultery, the Torah commands that both the adulterer and the adulteress were to be put to death. This is what Joseph could have demanded.

But, quickly, we learn that he doesn’t choose this way. Instead, he decides to divorce her quietly. To call off the engagement. To dissolve the marriage contract. 

But, even this kinder, gentler response is not God’s plan. Enter another divine interruption. An angel. Who appears to Joseph in the middle of a dream. Who first words - as with Mary last week - were, “Don’t be afraid.”  Who says, continue to choose a better way. Choose to stay with Mary. Choose to become an adoptive parent. Choose peace over violence. Choose grace over condemnation.

We might ask why it took the intervention of a celestial being for Joseph to make these choices. To not abandon his partner, even though, under the Law, he was fully justified in doing so. It’s easy for us to condemn him for simply wanting to walk away. To point a finger at him for wanting to preserve his life. Because to remain with Mary would not at all be the easy choice with all that could be put at risk. His reputation. His livelihood. Even other relationships. Walking away was the easier thing. Walking away was justified, wasn’t it? Oh, how we want to condemn Joseph!

But, aren’t we a lot like Joseph? Every day we are faced with opportunities to choose a better way. To put our power and privilege at risk. To do what is right. Yet how often do we decline to engage? Especially when it might put our relationships at risk. Or our jobs. Or our reputation.

Every day we are faced with opportunities to choose peace over violence, whether that is physical, emotional or psychological violence. Instead, like my grandfather, we strike out against or blame those who have hurt us - whether the hurt is real or perceived - and seek to harm them. With our words or our actions. Or both.

Every day we are faced with opportunities to choose grace over condemnation. To go directly to the person who has hurt us and offer forgiveness. Or to confess our error. To stay in the game and in the relationship, especially when it would be so much easier to simply walk away.

There is a reason God has written the law on our hearts. Not to condemn us, but to nudge us in a different direction. To nudge us to be people of a different way. To relinquish the hurt or the shame to which we so tightly cling. To let go of our woundedness, which is what so often drives our need to strike back - woundedness that may come from the situation at hand, but, more likely, from some deep, deep hurt we carry with us.

Imagine if Joseph had not heeded God’s command to take Mary as his wife. What might have happened to her and her newborn child? How might the Christmas story unfolded in a much different way if Joseph had made a different choice?

You and I. We are redeemed by this Jesus. Joseph's son. Emmanuel. God with us. You and I are called to that different way. That different highway envisioned by the Prophet Isaiah in chapter 35 - that Holy Way. A way not traversed by the unclean but by those walking on that way. Where even fools won’t get lost. Where no predators will exist. Only the redeemed will walk on it - those the Lord has freed. Who will return and enter Zion with singing, with eternal joy upon their heads. Where happiness and joy will overwhelm them. Where grief and groaning will flee away.

Sadly, my grandfather never apologized to my mother. Never chose that better way. But, the rest of his family - of my extended family - did. They wrapped their arms around us and held us up, walking the way with us in our grief and loss, loving us, helping us heal and return once again to a place of happiness and joy. They, like Joseph, chose a better way.

With God’s help, you and I can, too. Amen.

Preached December 11, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

4th Sunday of Advent

Readings: Matthew 1:18-25; Isaiah 35:1-10

Readings

From Generation to Generation: God Meets Us In Our Fear

When Elizabeth was six months pregnant, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a city in Galilee, to a virgin who was engaged to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David’s house. The virgin’s name was Mary. When the angel came to her, he said, “Rejoice, favored one! The Lord is with you!” She was confused by these words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. The angel said, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. God is honoring you. Look! You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great and he will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of David his father. He will rule over Jacob’s house forever, and there will be no end to his kingdom.”

Then Mary said to the angel, “How will this happen since I haven’t had sexual relations with a man?”

The angel replied, “The Holy Spirit will come over you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore, the one who is to be born will be holy. He will be called God’s Son. Look, even in her old age, your relative Elizabeth has conceived a son. This woman who was labeled ‘unable to conceive’ is now six months pregnant. Nothing is impossible for God.”

Then Mary said, “I am the Lord’s servant. Let it be with me just as you have said.” Then the angel left her. -- Luke 1:26-38 (CEB)

Holy is God’s name, who shows mercy to everyone, from one generation to the next, for those who honor God. Amen.

I had a plan. Eighteen years ago, I had a plan. I had a plan for my life and where I was going. Most of you know that, for decades, I worked in the social justice movement. But some of you may not know that, at the same time, I worked part-time as a music and worship director in Lutheran churches, too. I was a life-long musician. That love for music kept me in the church where I worked in many different capacities - choir director, pianist, organist, handbell choir director, children’s music director, and eventually as worship director for an ELCA church in Pasadena. 

But, in 2006 I had a plan. My plan was to go back to school, get my master’s degree in music, retire from my organizing job, and do music in the church full time. 

I bet Mary had a plan, too. She was young, probably a teenager. A virgin. Engaged to Joseph, a simple carpenter. Soon she would be married and then settle down to have a family, because in her culture, having children was most important to ensure the family line. To ensure the generations to come. Yep, Mary had a plan. I’m sure of it. 

But, here’s the thing. My plan. Mary’s plan. Well, our plans are just not often the same as God’s plan.  

Just a year or so after I started graduate school, one day my pastor at the church where I worked sat me down and said, “You should apply for candidacy.” If you’re not sure what that means, to apply for candidacy means to make an application to become a rostered leader in the church. A pastor. Or a deacon. 

I laughed. I laughed at her because that was not anything I had ever or would ever consider. Plus, it didn’t fit into my plan. But, mostly, I laughed because I was afraid. Because, until I joined the ELCA, my entire experience of women in leadership positions in the church was zero. The idea of my becoming a rostered leader terrified me. What would my family say? And what would my high school friends say - the ones I’d gone to school with in that other church, where it was a sin for women to be in leadership positions? 

Mary must have been fearful, too. Because, immediately after the greeting, the angel quickly says, “Don’t be afraid.” Something so typical in all of the call stories we see in scripture. Where so often the first words out of the divine messenger’s mouth are, “Do not be afraid.” Mary had so much more to fear than I did in my call story. What would her family say? What would Joseph say? What would the community say? Not only would her plans be turned upside down. But, there was a very good possibility that she could be accused of adultery, stoned. Perhaps, even killed. 

I walked away from the conversation with my pastor that day with no intention of applying. But, not Mary. She was the one we would call Christ-like, not me. She quietly said, “Yes. I am the Lord’s servant.”

We tell ourselves a lot of stories. And, as you know, God eventually convinced me what my story should be. Last week we heard how God makes room for each one of us in God’s story. As we listened to all of the names, some of them very unexpectedly on the list, we heard the message that, like them, we and our story belong. 

But, here’s my question for you. Are you telling yourself the right story? Is it your story that you’ve discerned for yourself? Like my original plan for the rest of my life? Or is it possible that the story you think is yours really isn’t and that, by holding onto it, you’ve pushed away God’s story for your life. 

Each one of us - like Mary - is called to be “all in” with this thing we call discipleship. All in. Are you “all in” with God’s story? Or all you “all in” with your story? Is it your plan? Or God’s plan? 

Now, I’m certainly not here, expecting that you will be called by God into rostered leadership. Or expecting any of you to get pregnant. (If you’re laughing because you, like me, are way too old to even think it is possible, I would remind you of Elizabeth and Zechariah. Do you think age matters to God? Never say never.) 

Yet, each one of you, like me, has been called into the story that is so much larger than ours. Into God’s story. What’s your plan? Or rather, what do you discern to be God’s plan for your life? Who will you be like in this story? Like me, who walked away in fear. (Or at least who tried to walk away.) Or Mary. Who simply said, “Let it be with me as you have said.” And then gave birth to the Savior of the world.

Whatever your plan, God says to you, “Do not be afraid.” Amen.

Preached December 11, 2022, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Second Sunday of Advent

Readings: Luke 1:26-38; Isaiah 11:1-10

From Generation to Generation: There's Room for Every Story

A record of the ancestors of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham:

Abraham was the father of Isaac.

Isaac was the father of Jacob.

Jacob was the father of Judah and his brothers.

Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah,

whose mother was Tamar.

Perez was the father of Hezron.

Hezron was the father of Aram.

Aram was the father of Amminadab.

Amminadab was the father of Nahshon.

Nahshon was the father of Salmon.

Salmon was the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab.

Boaz was the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth.

Obed was the father of Jesse.

Jesse was the father of David the king.

David was the father of Solomon,

whose mother had been the wife of Uriah.

Solomon was the father of Rehoboam.

Rehoboam was the father of Abijah.

Abijah was the father of Asaph.

Asaph was the father of Jehoshaphat.

Jehoshaphat was the father of Joram.

Joram was the father of Uzziah.

Uzziah was the father of Jotham.

Jotham was the father of Ahaz.

Ahaz was the father of Hezekiah.

Hezekiah was the father of Manasseh.

Manasseh was the father of Amos.

Amos was the father of Josiah.

Josiah was the father of Jechoniah and his brothers.

This was at the time of the exile to Babylon.

After the exile to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Shealtiel.

Shealtiel was the father of Zerubbabel.

Zerubbabel was the father of Abiud.

Abiud was the father of Eliakim

Eliakim was the father of Azor.

Azor was the father of Zadok.

Zadok was the father of Achim.

Achim was the father of Eliud.

Eliud was the father of Eleazar.

Eleazar was the father of Matthan.

Matthan was the father of Jacob.

Jacob was the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary—of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Christ.

So there were fourteen generations from Abraham to David, fourteen generations from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen generations from the exile to Babylon to the Christ. --Matthew 1:1-17 CEB

Holy is God’s name, who shows mercy to everyone, from one generation to the next, for those who honor God. Amen.

From generation to generation. That is our theme throughout this incarnational season of the church year - this time from Advent through Epiphany. It is taken from Mary’s song of protest and praise - a song sung by her in the midst of challenge. In the midst of her vulnerability. Even in these moments, Mary could see God’s vision. That dream of God captured in the reading from Isaiah that we heard last week and, again, today. Perhaps, repetition is helpful for us - that this vision of God for a new way of being for all nations might be more fully and deeply embedded in us. A vision of peace. Of wholeness. Of shalom.

It was a vision that was bigger than Mary. That is bigger than we are. That Christ comes for our collective liberation. That this work of God’s redemption continues and is meant to be lived out and passed on. From generation to generation.

So, it’s perhaps no surprise that, on this first Sunday of Advent, we begin at the beginning. With Jesus’ family tree.

I’m curious how many of you have done any genealogy work on your own family tree? My work really began with my mother, decades ago, when she created a wall hanging for the 50th anniversary of my paternal grandparents. My brother, a cousin and I have continued that work. Over the past decade or so, thanks to Ancestry.com, that simple wall hanging has grown into an extensive tree reflecting generations in my family. Not only on my father’s side, but on my mother’s, as well.

Why do we do this work of tracing the generations of our families? Although I can’t answer that question for you, for me it has been a way of identifying where I come from. And who I am. In learning the stories of my ancestors, my story is told, too. 

There is, for example, the story of my father’s family. Fourteen children. Four boys and ten girls. A huge family with not alot of money, at least at the beginning. So, their entertainment was to sing together as a family. To play instruments, especially piano and accordion. To go every Friday night to community dances, which happens to be where my mom met my dad. And, because they lived in such a rural place, nearly 40 miles away from the nearest small town, it also meant that my father and his older brother learned how to fly (and crash) a small Cessna, so they could travel to places they might otherwise not have experienced. Perhaps, that’s how I get my travel bug.

If we look at Jesus’ lineage, we see that he, too, comes from a large family. In Matthew, this family is traced all the way back to Abraham. Then to Isaac, then Jacob with his twelve sons. Then to David, who God promised - covenanted with - that his line would never end. On and on Jesus’ line is traced through the chosen nation of Israel and its ancestors. From kings to prophets to priests. To show us two things about his identity. That Jesus embodies the royal lineage of King David, whose line would be carried on by the Promised One, the Messiah. And that he also embodies the covenantal authority of Abraham, through whom all the families of the earth would be blessed. For Matthew’s audience, Jesus may appear to be a simple carpenter, but he is, in fact, the fulfillment of both the promise to Abraham and that of King David. Jesus is the royal successor to David. King. And the promised Messiah. Savior. King and Savior, come to bless all nations. 

But, genealogies give us not only glimpses of the happy or joyful times in our families’ histories, but also stories of challenge and hardship. Sometimes evil. If I look carefully at my grandfather’s history, I learn that the same year he was born, his four-year-old sister died. Two years later, another sister died in childbirth. The following year, when my grandfather was only 3 years old, his mother, my great-grandmother Marian, died at the very young age of 24. Three months later, his father married Marian’s sister, Katherine. If I move to my mother’s side, I find a great-grandfather who was murdered. 

In the midst of the joy of our families, lies tragedy and heartache. Struggle and conflict. And, sometimes, family members who lose their way. This is so with my family. I wonder if it is so of yours.

This complexity is so with Jesus’ family, which contains serious blemishes.

For example, in Jesus’ line, Manasseh and Amon appear - two incredibly evil kings. Or there’s King Jechoniah, an unhappy king who was exiled not once, but twice. Then, notice the women who appear unexpectedly in Matthew’s genealogy, something unusual in ancient times. Many of them experienced their own trauma and heartache. There is Tamar. Jacob’s daughter-in-law whom he impregnated. Or Bathsheba. Unnamed in the family tree, but mentioned as the wife of Uriah, whom David killed so that he could take Bathsheba as his own. And impregnate her with a son she would lose seven days after his birth. Or consider Rahab. A prostitute who hid the Israelite spies as they were scouting out the Promised Land. Or consider Mary herself. A teenager who found herself pregnant and unmarried at a time when such a condition could result in stoning. All of these women, with the exception of Mary, foreigners, often in conflicted circumstances. Yet grafted - adopted - into Jesus’ family tree. Just as you and I have been adopted in, as well. 

What’s your family story? My guess is that it is as messy and wonderful as my family's story. And that of Jesus’ family. In those long lists of names, we remember the trauma and triumph of those who came before. Each name holds a story. And, in Matthew’s genealogy, their story gives way to Christ’s story. A story that encompasses all of our stories, complicated as they are. Weaving them together with generations past and present. Welcoming us in. And inviting us to share Christ’s story and our story, too. Of liberation and freedom. Of peace. Of shalom. With all the generations to come. 

Because, in Christ’s story, there is room for every story. Past. Present. And future. Amen.

Preached December 4, 2022, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

First Sunday of Advent

Readings: Matthew 1:1-17; Isaiah 2:1-5 

Living Out the Covenant: Guns and Butter

Assyria’s King Sennacherib marched against all of Judah’s fortified cities and captured them in the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah. Assyria’s king sent his field commander from Lachish, together with a large army, to King Hezekiah at Jerusalem. He stood at the water channel of the Upper Pool, which is on the road to the field where clothes are washed. Hilkiah’s son Eliakim, who was the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and Asaph’s son Joah the recorder went out to them.

Then the field commander stood up and shouted in Hebrew at the top of his voice: “Listen to the message of the great king, Assyria’s king. The king says this: Don’t let Hezekiah lie to you. He won’t be able to rescue you. Don’t let Hezekiah persuade you to trust the Lord by saying, ‘The Lord will certainly rescue us. This city won’t be handed over to Assyria’s king.’

“Don’t listen to Hezekiah, because this is what Assyria’s king says: Surrender to me and come out. Then each of you will eat from your own vine and fig tree and drink water from your own well until I come to take you to a land just like your land. It will be a land of grain and new wine, a land of bread and vineyards. Don’t let Hezekiah fool you by saying, ‘The Lord will rescue us.’ Did any of the other gods of the nations save their lands from the power of Assyria’s king? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim? Did they rescue Samaria from my power? Which one of the gods from those countries has rescued their land from my power? Will the Lord save Jerusalem from my power?”

When King Hezekiah heard this, he ripped his clothes, covered himself with mourning clothes, and went to the Lord’s temple. He sent Eliakim the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and the senior priests to the prophet Isaiah, Amoz’s son. They were all wearing mourning clothes. They said to him, “Hezekiah says this: Today is a day of distress, punishment, and humiliation. It’s as if children are ready to be born, but there’s no strength to see it through. Perhaps the Lord your God heard all the words of the field commander who was sent by his master, Assyria’s king. He insulted the living God! Perhaps he will punish him for the words that the Lord your God has heard. Offer up a prayer for those few people who still survive.”

When King Hezekiah’s servants got to Isaiah, Isaiah said to them, “Say this to your master: The Lord says this: Don’t be afraid at the words you heard, which the officers of Assyria’s king have used to insult me. I’m about to mislead him, so when he hears a rumor, he’ll go back to his own country. Then I’ll have him cut down by the sword in his own land.”

This is what Isaiah, Amoz’s son, saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

In the days to come

    the mountain of the Lord’s house

    will be the highest of the mountains.

    It will be lifted above the hills;

        peoples will stream to it.

Many nations will go and say,

“Come, let’s go up to the Lord’s mountain,

    to the house of Jacob’s God

        so that he may teach us his ways

        and we may walk in God’s paths.”

Instruction will come from Zion;

    the Lord’s word from Jerusalem.

God will judge between the nations,

    and settle disputes of mighty nations.

Then they will beat their swords into iron plows

    and their spears into pruning tools.

Nation will not take up sword against nation;

    they will no longer learn how to make war. --Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:1-7; 2:1-4 

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God, our Creator; Jesus Christ, our Redeemer; and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

Guns and butter. Guns and butter. What do you think is the relationship between guns and butter? Anyone? Anyone study business? Or economics? If you could choose one over the other, which would you choose? Guns? Or butter?

There actually is a relationship between these two things - guns and butter. It comes to us from the study of macroeconomics. (Are your eyes glossing over?) The guns versus butter model shows the relationship between how much a nation invests in its security and defense. And how much it invests in butter. Or, more fully, spending on social things, investing in things that improve or increase social welfare, such as schools, hospitals, parks and roads. Every nation has to decide which balance of guns versus butter best fits its needs - a choice that can be influenced by both external and internal factors. And a choice that can have an impact not only on a nation’s people, but also who are elected as its leaders.

The phrase originated around the time of the first World War. In 1914, Chile was the leading world producer of nitrates. What are nitrates used for? Yep. Gunpowder. Chile had taken a neutral stance in the war and, although it continued to provide almost all the nitrates the US needed, it still made us a little nervous that we didn’t have control over the production. This led to the passage of the National Defense Act of 1916. This directed the administration to manufacture nitrates for fertilizer - in times of peace, and munitions in times of war. The media presented this as “guns and butter.” Guns in war time. Butter in peace.

Today’s lesson from Isaiah shows us the tension and complexity in making the choice between guns and butter. As our story opens, Jerusalem is surrounded by the Assyrian army. They’ve ravaged the countryside - knocking off, according to Assyrian history, 46 Judaen cities, all heavily fortified. People from villages surrounding Jerusalem have fled into the city. It’s overcrowded. Resources are stretched. Food is scarce. Water, too. The temple treasury has been depleted by a tribute demanded by the Assyrian king, Sennacharib. Even the king’s treasury - that of King Hezekiah - has been depleted. Jerusalem is under siege. 

At his king’s command, Sennacharib’s field commander approaches the city. King Hezekiah sends out three of his high officials. Yet, it soon becomes clear that the field commander isn’t really interested in talking to them. Instead of speaking to them in Aramaic, the language they request, he speaks to them in Hebrew - a language the people of Jerusalem will understand. Their vernacular. Why? To spread propaganda. Propaganda that is intended to invoke fear in their hearts for what will come. The guns. And propaganda intended to convince them to abandon Jerusalem -- this place of hardship and starvation -- and surrender to him to be taken to a much better place. To a land he describes in eerily familiar words. A land of grain and new wine, a land of bread and vineyards. Think “land of milk and honey.” Think butter.

How easy it would be for the people to fall into this trap! Perhaps, this is what terrifies King Hezekiah so, leading him to tear his clothes, to engage in rituals of mourning, to go to the temple. And to send his officials to seek out the prophet Isaiah. He knows how exhausted his people are. So exhausted that, as our text reads, it’s as though children are ready to be born, but there’s no strength left to see it through.

It’s an interesting verse, this birthing metaphor. It brings us back to other water and birthing images we’ve seen over these past many weeks. The birthing of a new creation from the waters of darkness and chaos. The rebirthing of our world in the story of Noah and the flood after its near total corruption. The birthing of a new nation, chosen to be a people to show all nations the way of God. Then, today’s image. Of a mother about to give birth, but so exhausted that there is little hope that the child can be born. 

Perhaps that’s where you are right now. Tired of things in the world as they are. The wars that cause vast numbers of refugees. The corruption that seems to only get worse. The many divides in our world. The lack of agreement around caring for our planet. Perhaps you are tired, too. Exhausted from the many ways we just seem to fall so sort of any possibility of peace. Much less any vision or hope for the future. 

But, there is an alternative view. A way that is not about the guns, but about the butter. A profound vision of peace. Where nations no longer learn about war. Where people are more concerned with cultivating food than producing weapons. A vision of shalom. 

That’s what we hear from the prophet Isaiah as he, literally, sees the Word of God. And sees God’s future for that remnant in Jerusalem. And for you and me, too.

What will the future hold? Guns? Or butter? 

This new age, envisioned by God, pregnant with possibilities, will take us to the mountaintop. A mountaintop that is less about a place than a way of being. That’s not about restoring the temple or Jerusalem, also high up. But, it’s about our citizenship in God’s kingdom - an upside-down kingdom led by an upside-down king. Christ, the King. Who leads not with guns, but with butter. Who comes sacrificially for us. To show us the way. A way of justice, and mercy, and peace. And who leads us to salvation - to that shalom way of life that ensures wholeness in every way for every one. So that all nations might flourish. So that all people might have fullness. So that we - you and I, included - might live. Forever. With all the butter we can imagine!

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached November 20, 2022, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Christ the King Sunday

Reading: Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:1-7; 2:1-4

Living in the Covenant: Elisha Heals Naaman

It’s easy for us, when we read First and Second Kings, to think of this as a history of Israel. And while these books do tell the story of Israel and the succession of its kings, the author isn’t writing just for the sake of history. The author is as much a theologian (trying to understand things) as he is a historian. He’s writing a prophetic history of how the word of God in the Torah and the prophets was the true story of Israel’s God. So, Kings is written from the perspective of someone living long after the exile of the northern kingdom, the destruction of Jerusalem in the south, and the exile to Babylonian. This theological history seeks to explain why Israel and Judah are in exile - because their kings and their people have resisted the word of God and persisted in their rebellion. Leading all the way up to exile. 

It’s the story we have heard from the beginning of our readings this fall. God creates a world of beauty and shalom for all of God’s creation. Humanity strays and resists God. Then God works to bring us back into relationship. Over and over and over again. This is the story of the Bible. The narrative arc of scripture.

Today, we read a story about Elisha. Elisha, not Elijah. Elisha was the successor prophet to Elijah. This is a hinge text - helping us make our shift from the monarchy - the reign of Israel’s kings - to the prophets, sent by God to confront and correct Israel’s leaders. They were unsuccessful. Israel’s leaders continued to persist in patterns of idolatry, injustice, and rebellion until finally they were completely wiped out. The kings were wiped out. A remnant of the people would continue. A people who would ache for something or someone better.

But, today and for the next two Sundays, we hear stories of the prophets. 

Naaman, a general for the king of Aram, was a great man and highly regarded by his master, because through him the Lord had given victory to Aram. This man was a mighty warrior, but he had a skin disease. Now Aramean raiding parties had gone out and captured a young girl from the land of Israel. She served Naaman’s wife.

She said to her mistress, “I wish that my master could come before the prophet who lives in Samaria. He would cure him of his skin disease.” So Naaman went and told his master what the young girl from the land of Israel had said.

Then Aram’s king said, “Go ahead. I will send a letter to Israel’s king.”

So Naaman left. He took along ten kikkars of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten changes of clothing. He brought the letter to Israel’s king. It read, “Along with this letter I’m sending you my servant Naaman so you can cure him of his skin disease.”

When the king of Israel read the letter, he ripped his clothes. He said, “What? Am I God to hand out death and life? But this king writes me, asking me to cure someone of his skin disease! You must realize that he wants to start a fight with me.”

When Elisha the man of God heard that Israel’s king had ripped his clothes, he sent word to the king: “Why did you rip your clothes? Let the man come to me. Then he’ll know that there’s a prophet in Israel.”

Naaman arrived with his horses and chariots. He stopped at the door of Elisha’s house. Elisha sent out a messenger who said, “Go and wash seven times in the Jordan River. Then your skin will be restored and become clean.”

But Naaman went away in anger. He said, “I thought for sure that he’d come out, stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the bad spot, and cure the skin disease. Aren’t the rivers in Damascus, the Abana and the Pharpar, better than all Israel’s waters? Couldn’t I wash in them and get clean?” So he turned away and proceeded to leave in anger.

Naaman’s servants came up to him and spoke to him: “Our father, if the prophet had told you to do something difficult, wouldn’t you have done it? All he said to you was, ‘Wash and become clean.’” So Naaman went down and bathed in the Jordan seven times, just as the man of God had said. His skin was restored like that of a young boy, and he became clean.

He returned to the man of God with all his attendants. He came and stood before Elisha, saying, “Now I know for certain that there’s no God anywhere on earth except in Israel. Please accept a gift from your servant.”

But Elisha said, “I swear by the life of the Lord I serve that I won’t accept anything.”

Naaman urged Elisha to accept something, but he still refused. Then Naaman said, “If not, then let me, your servant, have two mule loads of earth. Your servant will never again offer entirely burned offerings or sacrifices to any other gods except the Lord. But may the Lord forgive your servant for this one thing: When my master comes into Rimmon’s temple to bow down there and is leaning on my arm, I must also bow down in Rimmon’s temple. When I bow down in Rimmon’s temple, may the Lord forgive your servant for doing that.” (2 Kings 5:1-18 CEB)

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

Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Ever heard that rhyming phrase before? I heard it for the first time when I was living in Minnesota. Let me tell you - you’ve never really heard it until you’ve listened to someone with a nasally, Midwestern accent say it. You know that “Minnesota friendly accent.” Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. 

Speaking of easy. Do you remember the marketing campaign by Staples office supply store several years ago that had “Easy” as its tag line? I had one of those “easy” buttons on my desk at work. And whenever someone would come into my office and ask me an easy question or for something that was easy for me to do, I would punch the button and say, Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!

But, seriously, we do like things easy peasy, lemon squeezy. In fact, our society is driven by ease and convenience. From fast food. To online banking. To Amazon orders. We want things to be quick and easy. If something is too cumbersome or time-consuming, we shy away from it. And try to find alternatives. Easier alternatives. 

Yet, at the same time, if something is too easy, what do we do? Well, we don’t trust it. Ever heard a conversation like this? Well, that was easy. Yeah, a little too easy if you ask me. Don’t get your hopes up. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase that if something is really worth having, it’s worth waiting for. Or worth the extra effort. Parents, how often have you said that to your kids?

That paradox is what we find in today’s story from Second Kings. 

Naaman is introduced to us as a “great man” and “highly regarded” by his master, King Aram. He is a warrior. A mighty warrior. Who has brought great success to this king of Aramea, one of Israel’s fiercest enemies. He is successful, respected, victorious in battle. If we look closely at these introductory verses we see that, in fact, he has won these battles because the LORD has given victory to him and to the Arameans. The LORD. Immediately we get a sense of the universality of this story - of how God acts not just through God’s own people, but through other nations, as well. And their leaders. Even when they are not aware that God is working through them.

But, Naaman has a nagging problem. He has a skin disease. Robert Alter calls it “skin blanch,” meaning he lacks pigmentation in his skin. 

Because of his “success” on the battlefield, Naaman has a very close relationship with his king. It is also because of one of those same “successes” that Naaman has captured a young Israelite girl who has been brought into his household as a slave to his wife.

The young woman, unnamed and unnoticed, makes a comment to his wife: “I wish that my master could come before the prophet who lives in Samaria. He would cure him of his skin disease.” The word gets to Naaman, who hears the suggestion, but doesn’t really listen to it. Because, rather than go to the prophet, as she suggests, he goes to his king. Which is how the trouble begins. 

The king agrees to send a letter to Israel’s king. Along with it he prepares an incentive. Ten kikkars of silver - worth $252,565 as of yesterday. And 6,000 shekels of gold - at yesterday’s value of $3,530,100. Plus ten changes of clothing. I have no number on that today, but, trust me, they were valuable in that time! So, here’s this huge incentive for Israel’s king to help Naaman be cured. And what happens? The king - interestingly unnamed here - misconstrues King Aram’s action. There’s no love lost between these two nations. Immediately, he suspects a trap. That, when he fails to heal Naaman, the Arameans will attack. 

Enter Elisha. He intervenes to suggest that Naaman come directly to him. And he does. Our text says that Naaman - with his horses and chariots, a full military contingent. (Was it any wonder that Israel’s king was afraid?) - Naaman goes to Elisha’s house and waits outside.

Rather than come out and prescribe healing directly to Naaman, Elisha sends a messenger with a cure. Go wash in the Jordan seven times. Easy peasy lemon squeezy! Naaman is angry. “Couldn’t this cure be a little grander?” he wonders. Why not wash in the rivers in Damascus, which are so much better than the little, muddy Jordan? But, his servants - his servants - talk him down. He goes. And is healed. And converted. “Now I know for certain that there’s no God anywhere on earth except in Israel.”

Do you notice that conversion isn’t required for healing? In fact, the healing comes first. With no demand from Elisha that Naaman worship God. His worship of God comes from his being healed. His being made whole.

Do you also notice the unexpected voices in this story? Those small, seemingly insignificant players? The slave girl. Naaman’s servants. They are ones - rather than those with power and wealth - through whom God seems to be working most fully to ensure Naaman’s healing. How many times do we see this in scripture? How God works through the most powerless to move God’s reign forward.

How have you experienced God working through the unexpected voices, the small, seemingly insignificant saints in your life? Those offering a well-placed word of hope? Or those who simply modeled faithfulness for you? Those are the ones who, especially today, we are remembering. The quiet voices of those most often insignificant to our world. 

But, not to God. Because these are the ones - we heard earlier - these are the ones who made it through the great ordeal. Who now live that promised life of shalom. A life a wholeness. A life of peace and joy. A life in the very presence of God. A life that we will experience one day, too.

Or as St. Paul writes, For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now we know in part; then we will know fully, even as we have been fully known. (1 Cor. 13:12 NRSV)

May God grant it. Amen.

Preached November 6, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

All Saints Sunday

Reading: 2 Kings 5:1-18