Grace to you and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Our lectionary makes a big leap today. Last week, we heard in Acts chapter 3 the story of Peter and John, who, after receiving the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, began their task of sharing the good news.
Today, we jump 14 chapters in Acts, to the 17th chapter. The chapters in-between describe the spread of the Jesus movement from Jerusalem into Samaria and Asia Minor. This geographic movement corresponds with a shift in audience, as well, from a Jewish mission to one that becomes predominantly Gentile. This movement toward the Gentiles in mission is a result of God’s direct guidance. It is not just the story of how the known world was eventually converted to Christianity. But, it is particularly about how the early church had to push beyond its own boundaries. To set aside racism and sexism to become faith to the gospel message. One contemporary theologian says it best: The church is being made to convert, even as it seeks converts.
Our focus today in Acts chapter 17 reading turns to Paul. If you know anything about him, you know that his birth name was Saul. He was both Jewish and a Roman citizen. Trained as a Pharisee, a legal expert in the Torah. We first meet him in Acts 7, where he is identified as a persecutor of the earliest followers of Jesus. But, perhaps the most famous story of Paul we find in Acts 9, where we hear of his conversion from Saul the Persecutor to Paul the Christian missionary. On the road to Damascus, Jesus appears to Paul and then sends him. Eventually, he will travel throughout the Roman empire on three different missionary journeys. It was on his second missionary journey that he arrived in Thessalonica, which is where we find our story located today.
After Paul and Silas had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they came to Thessalonica, where there was a synagogue of the Jews. And Paul went in, as was his custom, and on three sabbath days argued with them from the scriptures, explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Messiah to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, “This is the Messiah, Jesus whom I am proclaiming to you.” Some of them were persuaded and joined Paul and Silas, as did a great many of the devout Greeks and not a few of the leading women. But the Jews became jealous, and with the help of some ruffians in the marketplaces they formed a mob and set the city in an uproar. While they were searching for Paul and Silas to bring them out to the assembly, they attacked Jason’s house. When they could not find them, they dragged Jason and some believers before the city authorities, shouting, “These people who have been turning the world upside down have come here also, and Jason has entertained them as guests. They are all acting contrary to the decrees of the emperor, saying that there is another king named Jesus.” The people and the city officials were disturbed when they heard this, and after they had taken bail from Jason and the others, they let them go. --Acts 17:1-9 (NRSV)
Paul and Silas, his partner, travel from Phillippi to Thessolonica, located in Macedonia. Which is present-day Greece. Thessolonica was one of the major cities of the Roman Empire, located on the Egnatian Way, which was the main road that connected the entire eastern part of the Roman Empire with its capital city, Rome. It was an important military and commercial port. Early on, in return for its support for the Roman empire, it had been declared a free city. So, its relationship with Rome and especially Roman patronage of the city was very important.
Jews, during this time, had spread from Jerusalem throughout the empire. Wherever they went, continued to practice their faith and to gather in synagogues. This was the case in Thessalonica. So, when Paul and Silas arrive, it was natural and their custom to go to the synagogue.
Our text says that, for three Sabbaths - or three weeks - they remained at the synagogue, arguing. Really more like being in dialogue with those in attendance, trying to explain and to convince them that the Jews had been misinterpreting scripture, that Jesus was the Messiah. And that the Messiah the Jews expected was not who this Jesus was.
In this short time, Paul and Silas have some small success. A few of the Jews, some of the devout Gentile Greeks and a few prominent women are convinced.
But, imagine if someone came into our church, into our worship, week after week, trying to convince us that our entire belief system was wrong. That we had misinterpreted Scripture. That, this Lutheran thing was all wrong. Well, you can imagine what might happen.
It was no different in the synagogue in Thessalonica. The Jews became angry. Then they gathered together some thugs hanging out in the local market. And formed a mob, making a huge uproar in the city. They went to the home of Jason, one of Paul’s converts who had taken Paul and Silas in. They went to his house to find Paul and Silas. And when they couldn’t find them, they dragged Jason out of his own house and took him to the local authorities, shouting: “These people. They are turning the world upside down!”
These people! They are turning the world upside down!
But, isn’t this what the good news of Jesus Christ does? Turn everything upside down? When we least expect it. Or sometimes when we least want it. The good news in Jesus begins to work through the power of the Holy Spirit. And, then, look out! Everything changes!
Paul and Silas were able to escape. And, in time, Paul would write a series of letters to this upstart community in Thessalonica. The first of these letters, likely the oldest text in the New Testament, written only 10-20 years after Jesus’ ascension, is a testament to this young community of Jesus’ followers. To their faith. And their love. And their hope.
We read from 1st Thessalonians, the first chapter.
Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy,
To the church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ:
Grace to you and peace.
We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. For we know, brothers and sisters beloved by God, that he has chosen you, because our message of the gospel came to you not in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction; just as you know what kind of persons we proved to be among you for your sake. And you became imitators of us and of the Lord, for in spite of persecution you received the word with joy inspired by the Holy Spirit, so that you became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia. For the word of the Lord has sounded forth from you not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place your faith in God has become known, so that we have no need to speak about it. For the people of those regions report about us what kind of welcome we had among you, and how you turned to God from idols, to serve a living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead—Jesus, who rescues us from the wrath that is coming. --1 Thessalonians 1:1-10 (NRSV)
It may feel, in this moment, that we, like the early community in Thessalonians are being persecuted. We are experiencing suffering and loss. Deeply. Throughout the world. Whether it is health-related, economic, or the fear and anxiety we feel that keeps us from sleeping at night, so many are suffering in our world today.
Yet, like the church in Thessalonica, we continue to do our work of faith. Our labor of love. To live steadfastly in hope. To turn this dark world upside down. All in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. We, like the church in Thessalonica, are an example to our own community of faith, love, and hope. Known because we serve a living and a true God. And our neighbors as ourselves.
This past Wednesday, we received a text message from one of our pantry members that attests to this. I’d like to share it with you now. “OMGosh! Just when I think you guys couldn’t possibly do more for us, you all go on and continue the drive thru pantry, not only in masks, but in the pouring rain! How can I begin to thank all of you for this? I hope you know how much it means. You all make a world of difference in so many ppl’s lives. Thank you. ❤️”
It makes a difference, what we do in our little church. Whether we are apart from each other or not, what we do as a community of faith in our little area of Kentucky matters. What we do as followers of Christ in our own little corner of the world matters. Just as the community of faith in Thessalonica and what they did mattered.
Because this is who we are and who we are to be, as people of a resurrected Jesus. Even in the midst of suffering. Even in the midst of fear and darkness. Even in the midst of a grieving world, we do what matters. We turn the world upside down in a way that matters. We do this because what Jesus did matters.
So, I give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in my prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. May you continue to be an example to all the believers. That through you, our Lord Jesus Christ might be made known. Amen.
Preached May 3, 2020, Online with the community of Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 4
Readings: Acts 17:1-9, 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Mark 13:9-11; Psalm 16
Showing posts with label Jesus Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus Christ. Show all posts
Sunday, May 3, 2020
Sunday, August 25, 2019
Rekindling Our Faith, Rekindling Our Imagination - Part 4
Now even the first covenant had regulations for worship and an earthly sanctuary. For a tent was constructed, the first one, in which were the lampstand, the table, and the bread of the Presence; this is called the Holy Place. Behind the second curtain was a tent called the Holy of Holies. In it stood the golden altar of incense and the ark of the covenant overlaid on all sides with gold, in which there were a golden urn holding the manna, and Aaron’s rod that budded, and the tablets of the covenant; above it were the cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy seat. Of these things we cannot speak now in detail.
Such preparations having been made, the priests go continually into the first tent to carry out their ritual duties; but only the high priest goes into the second, and he but once a year, and not without taking the blood that he offers for himself and for the sins committed unintentionally by the people. By this the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the sanctuary has not yet been disclosed as long as the first tent is still standing. This is a symbol of the present time, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshiper, but deal only with food and drink and various baptisms, regulations for the body imposed until the time comes to set things right.
But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, with the sprinkling of the ashes of a heifer, sanctifies those who have been defiled so that their flesh is purified, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to worship the living God! --Hebrews 9:1-14 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
If you were one of the newly-freed people of Israel, going to worship at the tabernacle in the wilderness, this is as far in as you could go. In that first place of worship for Israel, there were three parts. The first - the outer courtyard - was where the altar of sacrifice was placed. It was here that, if you were seeking to honor God, to ask for God’s blessing, or make amends for something you had done wrong - it was here that you would come. With grain. With an animal, such as a bull or ram or dove or pigeon. Even with the fat and inner organs from certain animals. You would come to this place with your offering and it was here, in this outer courtyard, where the priests would, if required, slaughter your offering and then place it on the altar of sacrifice.
If you were of the priestly class in Israel, from the line of Levi, you could go into the next place - the inner courtyard. The Holy place. It was here that you would go about your daily ritual duties. Offering incense morning and evening as you came in to dress and trim the lamps - lamps that were situated beside a table, called the Table of the Presence. Each Sabbath, you would eat the Bread of the Presence - loaves of bread that had been set in place the previous Sabbath as a continual offering to God. These loaves were a visible token for Israel of the communion between God and God’s people. As priests, after eating the bread, you would replace the loaves with freshly baked bread, to be eaten and replaced the following Sabbath.
If, however, you were the high priest, you were the only person who could enter the next place - the inner sanctuary. The Holy of Holies. This inner sanctum was separated from the courtyard by a curtain. It contained the Ark of the Covenant, which was the most sacred object in all of Israel. It was here, in a box-like container where three sacred religious objects were located. A golden bowl containing manna - the bread that God had provided to sustain Israel in the wilderness. It contained Aaron’s rod, which God had caused to bud and flower when the people disputed his priestly role. Then, finally, it contained the two tablets of stone upon which was written the Ten Commandments. Which represented the covenant that God had made with Israel at Mount Sinai. On top of the Ark was the Mercy Seat. On either end were two gold cherubim. It was between these cherubim where God was present. Hovering over the Mercy Seat in the form of a cloud.
As high priest, you would enter this space- the Holy of Holies - on Yom Kippur and offer up a sacrifice for all Israel. A sacrifice for all sins committed unintentionally by the people. Part of this sacrifice included two male goats, one of which would be offered up. The high priest would then take the second goat, place his hands on the head of the animal, and confess over it all of Israel’s offenses, their rebellious sins and all other sins. He would then send this goat - this scape-goat - away. Out into the wilderness. Carrying the sins of Israel away.
This is the tabernacle and the connected ritual around it that the writer of Hebrews is talking about in our text today. This earthly place - this worldly sanctuary - connected to that first covenant made between God and the people at Sinai.
But, do you notice something about this place? Do you notice how far God is in this ritual from God’s people? How there is no direct contact - no direct relationship - between God and God’s people. But that, in order to get to God, you have to go through priests and, ultimately, through the high priest. To get to God. To be in God’s presence.
But, ultimately, God is a God of relationships. I’ve spoken before about the perichoretic nature of God - that God, as the Triune God, is in relationship with Godself, with God’s three persons: Creator, Son, and Holy Spirit. That our relational God has created us to be in relationship with God. And also with each other. That we aren’t intended to go it alone. But that God intends we are together. This is the wholeness God desires. This is the shalom God wants.
And so, as God looked at this earthly sanctuary, God could see its weaknesses and its limitations. How it separated God from God’s people. How there was no “way” into the inner sanctuary. No direct “way” into God’s presence for all of humanity.
And so, God determined, as our text says today, to “make things right.” To do something new. To send Christ as our own high priest. Our own mediator. To tear down that curtain that separates us from the presence of God. To break down once and for all the things that keep us from God. To open the “way” for all people into the presence of God. God has flung the door open wide open for us and for all people.
Why? Because God is a God of relationships. God wants to be in relationship with us. And God wants us to be in relationship with others. And with all of creation. This is the new thing that God is doing. The “new covenant” that our text speaks of. A covenant of wholeness of relationship. With God and with each other.
This is what our text is talking about this morning. About how God has opened the door in a surprising way. And about how God has acted and continues to act to restore relationships. Relationships that our own human sins have closed off.
In 1619, 400 years ago this month, twenty people from Africa were brought to the shores of this country. To Jamestown, Virginia. And they were sold into slavery. This was the beginning of 250 years of the intentional enslavement of a people in our country. The beginning of a transatlantic slave trade that ripped African peoples away from their rich traditions, their history, and their assets. It led to the systematic oppression of people of African descent in the US and throughout the world. To colonial and post-colonial policies. To racist beliefs, policies and practices. To imbalances of privilege, power, and wealth. And to the continuing demand for low or no-wage labor that are the manifestations of this legacy of slavery.
And if you think the church has been immune to this. That the church has not been a party to this legacy. Think again. For centuries, scripture was used to justify slavery. And, while there were some Lutherans in the south who questioned its morality, along with a few in the north, “on the whole,” R.M. Chapman writes in his book about Lutherans and the legacy of slavery. “On the whole, Lutherans did not become strong anti-slavery advocates, nor did they champion the cause of free blacks in the North or the South.” Lutherans were complicit in slavery as they largely stood by. Passively. Accepting the practice as the law of the land. And, even though much of our own Lutheran church history emphasizes being an immigrant church, during the Jim Crow era and much of the civil rights era and later years, Lutherans as a whole remained on the sidelines. Silent. With only a few small pockets of advocacy and action.
Too often we hear in ourselves that we are not racist. That we are not privileged. We may have grown up poor ourselves and with few resources. We have worked hard for what we have. And that is true. Yet, what we fail to see is that we have a system of privilege that has made our lives easier. We fail to look at the log in our eye. To see the rights and privileges that we have had. That our ancestors have had. Privileges that have allowed us to access good education. To choose where we might live. To get loans and purchase property and assets. To build wealth. All while many others have not had those same privileges. This unearned privilege runs deep within us. And we cannot escape it.
Yet, God continues to do new things. To rekindle our faith. And to challenge our imagination. Through Christ, God continues to draw us back into relationship. With God and with one another. More deeply. So that we might begin to understand the harm our sin has caused in our relationships. That we might repent of that sin. And that we might begin to work alongside the Spirit to change the world in which we live. To tear down the systemic walls that divide us. So that our world might be the heavenly sanctuary God desires. The place of wholeness God wants. The shalom that God seeks for us, for all people, and for all of creation.
For these - for these new things that God is doing - may our response be, “Thanks be to God!” Amen.
Such preparations having been made, the priests go continually into the first tent to carry out their ritual duties; but only the high priest goes into the second, and he but once a year, and not without taking the blood that he offers for himself and for the sins committed unintentionally by the people. By this the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the sanctuary has not yet been disclosed as long as the first tent is still standing. This is a symbol of the present time, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshiper, but deal only with food and drink and various baptisms, regulations for the body imposed until the time comes to set things right.
But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, with the sprinkling of the ashes of a heifer, sanctifies those who have been defiled so that their flesh is purified, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to worship the living God! --Hebrews 9:1-14 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
If you were one of the newly-freed people of Israel, going to worship at the tabernacle in the wilderness, this is as far in as you could go. In that first place of worship for Israel, there were three parts. The first - the outer courtyard - was where the altar of sacrifice was placed. It was here that, if you were seeking to honor God, to ask for God’s blessing, or make amends for something you had done wrong - it was here that you would come. With grain. With an animal, such as a bull or ram or dove or pigeon. Even with the fat and inner organs from certain animals. You would come to this place with your offering and it was here, in this outer courtyard, where the priests would, if required, slaughter your offering and then place it on the altar of sacrifice.
If you were of the priestly class in Israel, from the line of Levi, you could go into the next place - the inner courtyard. The Holy place. It was here that you would go about your daily ritual duties. Offering incense morning and evening as you came in to dress and trim the lamps - lamps that were situated beside a table, called the Table of the Presence. Each Sabbath, you would eat the Bread of the Presence - loaves of bread that had been set in place the previous Sabbath as a continual offering to God. These loaves were a visible token for Israel of the communion between God and God’s people. As priests, after eating the bread, you would replace the loaves with freshly baked bread, to be eaten and replaced the following Sabbath.
If, however, you were the high priest, you were the only person who could enter the next place - the inner sanctuary. The Holy of Holies. This inner sanctum was separated from the courtyard by a curtain. It contained the Ark of the Covenant, which was the most sacred object in all of Israel. It was here, in a box-like container where three sacred religious objects were located. A golden bowl containing manna - the bread that God had provided to sustain Israel in the wilderness. It contained Aaron’s rod, which God had caused to bud and flower when the people disputed his priestly role. Then, finally, it contained the two tablets of stone upon which was written the Ten Commandments. Which represented the covenant that God had made with Israel at Mount Sinai. On top of the Ark was the Mercy Seat. On either end were two gold cherubim. It was between these cherubim where God was present. Hovering over the Mercy Seat in the form of a cloud.
As high priest, you would enter this space- the Holy of Holies - on Yom Kippur and offer up a sacrifice for all Israel. A sacrifice for all sins committed unintentionally by the people. Part of this sacrifice included two male goats, one of which would be offered up. The high priest would then take the second goat, place his hands on the head of the animal, and confess over it all of Israel’s offenses, their rebellious sins and all other sins. He would then send this goat - this scape-goat - away. Out into the wilderness. Carrying the sins of Israel away.
This is the tabernacle and the connected ritual around it that the writer of Hebrews is talking about in our text today. This earthly place - this worldly sanctuary - connected to that first covenant made between God and the people at Sinai.
But, do you notice something about this place? Do you notice how far God is in this ritual from God’s people? How there is no direct contact - no direct relationship - between God and God’s people. But that, in order to get to God, you have to go through priests and, ultimately, through the high priest. To get to God. To be in God’s presence.
But, ultimately, God is a God of relationships. I’ve spoken before about the perichoretic nature of God - that God, as the Triune God, is in relationship with Godself, with God’s three persons: Creator, Son, and Holy Spirit. That our relational God has created us to be in relationship with God. And also with each other. That we aren’t intended to go it alone. But that God intends we are together. This is the wholeness God desires. This is the shalom God wants.
And so, as God looked at this earthly sanctuary, God could see its weaknesses and its limitations. How it separated God from God’s people. How there was no “way” into the inner sanctuary. No direct “way” into God’s presence for all of humanity.
And so, God determined, as our text says today, to “make things right.” To do something new. To send Christ as our own high priest. Our own mediator. To tear down that curtain that separates us from the presence of God. To break down once and for all the things that keep us from God. To open the “way” for all people into the presence of God. God has flung the door open wide open for us and for all people.
Why? Because God is a God of relationships. God wants to be in relationship with us. And God wants us to be in relationship with others. And with all of creation. This is the new thing that God is doing. The “new covenant” that our text speaks of. A covenant of wholeness of relationship. With God and with each other.
This is what our text is talking about this morning. About how God has opened the door in a surprising way. And about how God has acted and continues to act to restore relationships. Relationships that our own human sins have closed off.
In 1619, 400 years ago this month, twenty people from Africa were brought to the shores of this country. To Jamestown, Virginia. And they were sold into slavery. This was the beginning of 250 years of the intentional enslavement of a people in our country. The beginning of a transatlantic slave trade that ripped African peoples away from their rich traditions, their history, and their assets. It led to the systematic oppression of people of African descent in the US and throughout the world. To colonial and post-colonial policies. To racist beliefs, policies and practices. To imbalances of privilege, power, and wealth. And to the continuing demand for low or no-wage labor that are the manifestations of this legacy of slavery.
And if you think the church has been immune to this. That the church has not been a party to this legacy. Think again. For centuries, scripture was used to justify slavery. And, while there were some Lutherans in the south who questioned its morality, along with a few in the north, “on the whole,” R.M. Chapman writes in his book about Lutherans and the legacy of slavery. “On the whole, Lutherans did not become strong anti-slavery advocates, nor did they champion the cause of free blacks in the North or the South.” Lutherans were complicit in slavery as they largely stood by. Passively. Accepting the practice as the law of the land. And, even though much of our own Lutheran church history emphasizes being an immigrant church, during the Jim Crow era and much of the civil rights era and later years, Lutherans as a whole remained on the sidelines. Silent. With only a few small pockets of advocacy and action.
Too often we hear in ourselves that we are not racist. That we are not privileged. We may have grown up poor ourselves and with few resources. We have worked hard for what we have. And that is true. Yet, what we fail to see is that we have a system of privilege that has made our lives easier. We fail to look at the log in our eye. To see the rights and privileges that we have had. That our ancestors have had. Privileges that have allowed us to access good education. To choose where we might live. To get loans and purchase property and assets. To build wealth. All while many others have not had those same privileges. This unearned privilege runs deep within us. And we cannot escape it.
Yet, God continues to do new things. To rekindle our faith. And to challenge our imagination. Through Christ, God continues to draw us back into relationship. With God and with one another. More deeply. So that we might begin to understand the harm our sin has caused in our relationships. That we might repent of that sin. And that we might begin to work alongside the Spirit to change the world in which we live. To tear down the systemic walls that divide us. So that our world might be the heavenly sanctuary God desires. The place of wholeness God wants. The shalom that God seeks for us, for all people, and for all of creation.
For these - for these new things that God is doing - may our response be, “Thanks be to God!” Amen.
Sunday, May 26, 2019
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
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
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Not the Same Anymore: Stones of Life, Not Death
But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. “Look,” he said, “I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him. Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he died. Acts 7:55-60 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Does it feel shocking to you? A little jarring, perhaps? That, on this Mother’s Day, this day we hold up mothers and women and, particularly, we lift up the qualities of mothers, those maternal qualities that both women and men possess. Qualities such as caring for others, for nurturing and loving. Qualities that give life, instead of those that take away life.
So, does it feel shocking to you that, on this day when we celebrate those life-giving qualities, our reading from Acts should be that of the stoning and martyr’s death of Stephen?
I can’t speak for you. But, I know that when I opened the text to prepare this week’s sermon, this Mother’s Day sermon, all I could think was, “Oh, wow! How can I find care and nurture, love and life in this passage today? How can I preach a sermon of life in the midst of the violence and death of Stephen?”
Was it only last week that we read the description of the early church--how the disciples held all things in common, how no one was in need, how they spent time daily in the temple, praying, and praising God, and how, daily, God added to their number? How did we move from such a place of wholeness and life, a place of salvation, to this place of violence and death?
Well, for me, the way in which to figure this out, to make sense of this is to move backwards from today’s text, into previous chapters. To go back and to see how it is we got here.
It didn’t take long that things began to fall apart for the early church. Even though many signs and wonders continued to happen, the disciples certainly weren’t making many friends among the Jewish leadership. We read in Chapter 4 that, as Peter and John were performing miracles and speaking to the people, proclaiming the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection, the religious leaders came to them, very annoyed at what they were saying to the people.
They had Peter and John arrested and brought in front of the leadership to question them, they were amazed at their boldness and even more amazed at their message, given the nature of Peter and John as "uneducated and ordinary men." The leadership could find nothing to hold them on. So, they were forced to let them go, but not before they ordered Peter and John not to teach or speak in the name of Jesus.
It wasn’t only with the Jewish leadership that trouble began to happen. Within their own ranks, selfishness and greed began to appear, challenging the disciples’ tradition of holding everything in common.
Some of the Greek disciples began to complain against the Judean disciples, claiming that their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of good. In response, the twelve disciples decided to appoint seven elders to take charge of distributing food. In this way, the twelve would then be able to more fully devote themselves to prayer and to preaching the Word. One of those seven appointed was Stephen.
The sixth chapter of Acts describes Stephen in this way: “Stephen, full of grace and power, did great wonders and signs among the people.” Even when some of the Jews attempted to argue with him in the synagogue, we read that, “...they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke.”
It was this group of Jews, these religious people, these people of faith, who then began to stir others up against Stephen. As the momentum built against him, he was confronted by them, arrested and brought before the Jewish leadership council.
But, even then, Stephen, would not be stilled. Even in the midst of a parade of false witnesses lined up against him, our text reads that “all who sat in the council looked intently at him, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.”
And, then, he began to speak. Full of the Holy Spirit, Stephen began to challenge these religious leaders. To challenge their perception of God--that God’s dwelling place was not only the temple, as they believed. That God dwells not in houses made with human hands, but, as the prophet says, quoted in Acts 7, “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me,” says the Lord, or what is the place of my rest? Did not my hand make all these things?”
After the people heard this, they were enraged. And they dragged him outside the city. And it was there that they began to stone him. To kill Stephen with stones of death.
It is easy for us to sit back and to condemn these people, isn’t it? Who, of us sitting here, would ever do such a thing?
But, the people who kill Stephen, who stone him, are not local thugs. They are upstanding religious folks. Regular members of synagogues. Committed leaders, religious professionals, Priests. They are guardians of valued traditions. Their own traditions of faith. They are the faithful who have invested much of themselves into the religious ideas and systems that they believe are necessary, that are crucial, for making God known in the world.
They simply wanted to protect their understanding of God, an understanding that had become so important to them that it closed off their ability to be curious about that understanding.
They presume to know exactly how God works. They refuse to make room for anything that a visionary, like Stephen, might say. And then, they lash out in violence because they are victims of the oldest sin in the Bible, the sin of idolatry.
I wonder how much we are like them. How much we, too, like to contain God in our own little “God box.” Thinking that God can only be found within these walls, only within the church. That we are so focused on what is happening here, within the church, that we fail to see the other places where and the ways in which God is present. Or that we are so filled with our own arrogance that we fail to humbly gather with fellow seekers and to be open to both new and old ways of finding God.
You see, Stephen’s story isn’t about identifying and vilifying the bad guys. It’s about recognizing the reality that all of us are too prone to reject God’s messengers and to hold on tightly to what feels safe and secure, to what we already know, or think we know. To worship creation instead of the Creator. To imagine that God can be contained and, therefore, controlled and owned.
When we do this, when we seek to control God and to own God, we are no different than those who hung Jesus on the cross. Or those who cast stones of death upon Stephen.
The antidote for this, though, is not to avoid being religious. The antidote is to be open to encountering God. To be open to a God who breaks into our midst, who disrupts the status quo that we want to protect so dearly. It is to determine whether we hold onto our convictions so hard that we leave broken bodies in our wake. Or that snuff out life and vitality in other ways.
The story of Stephen challenges us. It challenges us as the body of Christ, as it did Stephen, to take on Christ’s ministry, to take on his crucifixion and ministry of servanthood as our own. To be filled, like Stephen, with the Holy Spirit so that we might be the presence of Christ in our world.
To be--as we read in 1st Peter--living stones. Followers that are being made into the image of the Creator, that are living stones being built around Christ, that chief cornerstone, and into God’s spiritual temple. To be a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people who are God’s own possession and who are called to speak of the wonderful acts of the one who called us from darkness to light, from death to salvation, to be stones of life and not stones of death.
This is the story of Stephen. It is the story of a visionary, who saw the depth and breadth of God and of the life that God offers. Life offered not just to him or to us. But to all people. And, on this day that we celebrate and hold up those who give life, what else is there that could be more affirming?
Thanks be to God!
Amen.
Preached May 14, 2017 at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Fifth Sunday of Easter
Readings: Acts 7:55-60, Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16, 1 Peter 2:2-10, John 14:1-14.
Grace and peace to you from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Does it feel shocking to you? A little jarring, perhaps? That, on this Mother’s Day, this day we hold up mothers and women and, particularly, we lift up the qualities of mothers, those maternal qualities that both women and men possess. Qualities such as caring for others, for nurturing and loving. Qualities that give life, instead of those that take away life.
So, does it feel shocking to you that, on this day when we celebrate those life-giving qualities, our reading from Acts should be that of the stoning and martyr’s death of Stephen?
I can’t speak for you. But, I know that when I opened the text to prepare this week’s sermon, this Mother’s Day sermon, all I could think was, “Oh, wow! How can I find care and nurture, love and life in this passage today? How can I preach a sermon of life in the midst of the violence and death of Stephen?”
Was it only last week that we read the description of the early church--how the disciples held all things in common, how no one was in need, how they spent time daily in the temple, praying, and praising God, and how, daily, God added to their number? How did we move from such a place of wholeness and life, a place of salvation, to this place of violence and death?
Well, for me, the way in which to figure this out, to make sense of this is to move backwards from today’s text, into previous chapters. To go back and to see how it is we got here.
It didn’t take long that things began to fall apart for the early church. Even though many signs and wonders continued to happen, the disciples certainly weren’t making many friends among the Jewish leadership. We read in Chapter 4 that, as Peter and John were performing miracles and speaking to the people, proclaiming the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection, the religious leaders came to them, very annoyed at what they were saying to the people.
They had Peter and John arrested and brought in front of the leadership to question them, they were amazed at their boldness and even more amazed at their message, given the nature of Peter and John as "uneducated and ordinary men." The leadership could find nothing to hold them on. So, they were forced to let them go, but not before they ordered Peter and John not to teach or speak in the name of Jesus.
It wasn’t only with the Jewish leadership that trouble began to happen. Within their own ranks, selfishness and greed began to appear, challenging the disciples’ tradition of holding everything in common.
Some of the Greek disciples began to complain against the Judean disciples, claiming that their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of good. In response, the twelve disciples decided to appoint seven elders to take charge of distributing food. In this way, the twelve would then be able to more fully devote themselves to prayer and to preaching the Word. One of those seven appointed was Stephen.
The sixth chapter of Acts describes Stephen in this way: “Stephen, full of grace and power, did great wonders and signs among the people.” Even when some of the Jews attempted to argue with him in the synagogue, we read that, “...they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke.”
It was this group of Jews, these religious people, these people of faith, who then began to stir others up against Stephen. As the momentum built against him, he was confronted by them, arrested and brought before the Jewish leadership council.
But, even then, Stephen, would not be stilled. Even in the midst of a parade of false witnesses lined up against him, our text reads that “all who sat in the council looked intently at him, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.”
And, then, he began to speak. Full of the Holy Spirit, Stephen began to challenge these religious leaders. To challenge their perception of God--that God’s dwelling place was not only the temple, as they believed. That God dwells not in houses made with human hands, but, as the prophet says, quoted in Acts 7, “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me,” says the Lord, or what is the place of my rest? Did not my hand make all these things?”
After the people heard this, they were enraged. And they dragged him outside the city. And it was there that they began to stone him. To kill Stephen with stones of death.
It is easy for us to sit back and to condemn these people, isn’t it? Who, of us sitting here, would ever do such a thing?
But, the people who kill Stephen, who stone him, are not local thugs. They are upstanding religious folks. Regular members of synagogues. Committed leaders, religious professionals, Priests. They are guardians of valued traditions. Their own traditions of faith. They are the faithful who have invested much of themselves into the religious ideas and systems that they believe are necessary, that are crucial, for making God known in the world.
They simply wanted to protect their understanding of God, an understanding that had become so important to them that it closed off their ability to be curious about that understanding.
They presume to know exactly how God works. They refuse to make room for anything that a visionary, like Stephen, might say. And then, they lash out in violence because they are victims of the oldest sin in the Bible, the sin of idolatry.
I wonder how much we are like them. How much we, too, like to contain God in our own little “God box.” Thinking that God can only be found within these walls, only within the church. That we are so focused on what is happening here, within the church, that we fail to see the other places where and the ways in which God is present. Or that we are so filled with our own arrogance that we fail to humbly gather with fellow seekers and to be open to both new and old ways of finding God.
You see, Stephen’s story isn’t about identifying and vilifying the bad guys. It’s about recognizing the reality that all of us are too prone to reject God’s messengers and to hold on tightly to what feels safe and secure, to what we already know, or think we know. To worship creation instead of the Creator. To imagine that God can be contained and, therefore, controlled and owned.
When we do this, when we seek to control God and to own God, we are no different than those who hung Jesus on the cross. Or those who cast stones of death upon Stephen.
The antidote for this, though, is not to avoid being religious. The antidote is to be open to encountering God. To be open to a God who breaks into our midst, who disrupts the status quo that we want to protect so dearly. It is to determine whether we hold onto our convictions so hard that we leave broken bodies in our wake. Or that snuff out life and vitality in other ways.
The story of Stephen challenges us. It challenges us as the body of Christ, as it did Stephen, to take on Christ’s ministry, to take on his crucifixion and ministry of servanthood as our own. To be filled, like Stephen, with the Holy Spirit so that we might be the presence of Christ in our world.
To be--as we read in 1st Peter--living stones. Followers that are being made into the image of the Creator, that are living stones being built around Christ, that chief cornerstone, and into God’s spiritual temple. To be a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people who are God’s own possession and who are called to speak of the wonderful acts of the one who called us from darkness to light, from death to salvation, to be stones of life and not stones of death.
This is the story of Stephen. It is the story of a visionary, who saw the depth and breadth of God and of the life that God offers. Life offered not just to him or to us. But to all people. And, on this day that we celebrate and hold up those who give life, what else is there that could be more affirming?
Thanks be to God!
Amen.
Preached May 14, 2017 at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Fifth Sunday of Easter
Readings: Acts 7:55-60, Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16, 1 Peter 2:2-10, John 14:1-14.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Not the Same Anymore: The Last Laugh
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know— this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those outside the law. But God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power. For David says concerning him,
‘I saw the Lord always before me, for he is at my right hand so that I will not be shaken;therefore my heart was glad, and my tongue rejoiced; moreover my flesh will live in hope.For you will not abandon my soul to Hades, or let your Holy One experience corruption.You have made known to me the ways of life; you will make me full of gladness with your presence.’“Fellow Israelites, I may say to you confidently of our ancestor David that he both died and was buried, and his tomb is with us to this day. Since he was a prophet, he knew that God had sworn with an oath to him that he would put one of his descendants on his throne. Foreseeing this, David spoke of the resurrection of the Messiah, saying,
‘He was not abandoned to Hades, nor did his flesh experience corruption.’This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses. (Acts 2:14a, 22-32, NRSV)
Grace and peace from God, our Father, and from our resurrected Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Welcome to Holy Hilarity Sunday!
Celebrating laughter and joy on this second Sunday of Easter is actually a long and very rich tradition in the church. There is quite a history of congregations celebrating this day, sharing jokes and fun stories, and engaging in pranks on each other.
The tradition arises from early theologians, where they reflected on the resurrection of Jesus from the dead as a huge practical joke that God played on Satan. They called it the risus paschalis, meaning the Easter laugh.
So, today, it seems especially appropriate for us to laugh and to have fun. To celebrate the pure 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 them both deeply into our lives so that we might live more fully into being and sharing ourselves as joyful people of the resurrection.
This wasn’t always the case. This being joyful people of the resurrection. In those first hours and days after Jesus’ resurrection, even after Mary Magdalene had announced to the disciples that she had seen the Lord, laughter and joy and poking fun wasn’t necessarily on the minds of Jesus’ followers. They were afraid. They had gathered together in fear, not sure what would the authorities might do to them as possible accomplices to Jesus, this enemy of the state.
And, then, one can only wonder at what must have a level of bewilderment and disbelief and, yes, still fear, after hearing Mary’s announcement. Not knowing entirely what was happening. And whether what Mary told them was, in fact, true.
So, they continued to hide in fear behind locked doors.
It is there, in their fear and in their darkness, that Jesus seeks them out and meets them. Exactly where they are. Offering peace in place of fear. Offering assurance in the midst of their doubt.
It is at that point, after Mary’s witness to them and after they finally experience Jesus themselves that they, too, could fully experience joy.
But that wasn’t all there was to be. Because, it was at this point--after they had experienced the living and resurrected Jesus--that he sent them out on a mission. It is noted in our John text. It is also the story that precedes our text in Acts.
Did you hear that in both the John and Acts readings? That, before Jesus sent them out, he breathed into them the Holy Spirit?
It may seem weird to hear this at this point. Usually, from a liturgical standpoint, we reserve the outpouring (or inbreathing) of the Holy Spirit for Pentecost. And, yet, here we have it on the second Sunday of Easter--in our first reading, which is an extension of Peter’s sermon after the events of the Pentecost, after the Spirit has been poured out on the disciples gathered together, waiting. After they have begun to speak in the native languages of those listening. Even after those very listeners have begun to question the disciples’ legitimacy.
It is at this point that Peter stands up. And, just like Mary did, he witnesses. He connects the dots for them. He tells them everything that has happened and helps them to more fully understand what this means. That everything that has happened has been part of God’s plan. It’s not a second chance or God’s Plan B. It has been what God has intended for all time. That God would send God’s Son, proving to them through miracles and wonders and signs who Jesus was. That God knew that Jesus would be crucified. That God would raise him up. That God would free him from the “pain” of death. (This is the best translation for this phrase. And that the word used for pain is the same word associated with the pain of childbirth.) God would free Jesus from the “pain” of death by raising him up. It’s almost as though God was birthing a new world. Turning the world upside down. Is it any wonder then, if you remember our resurrection story from last week, that it began with an earthquake?
With Christ’s resurrection, God disrupts the world. It is not the same anymore.
This is what happens when God disturbs business as usual. Nothing is the same anymore. This is what the gospel does. It tells the story of God bringing something new into being, something that challenges the “world,” the way things are. It is the same disruption that happens when the Gospel is preached. When we, just like Mary and Peter, witness to the Good News. Because it is then that Jesus appears and is experienced and nothing is the same anymore.
Over these weeks of Easter, this is what we will be looking at. Each week for six weeks, we will be looking at the Acts texts, which during Easter, will replace in our readings that from the Hebrew scripture. We will see how, in hindsight, God’s people witness how God disrupts the world. How God intrudes. We will see what it means for Jesus’ followers and for us to share this witness. We will watch and learn right along with those characters who inhabit the pages of Acts. That second half of the Luke gospel that begins by fixing all of our attention and expectation upon God, even as we see that people will also play a part in God’s objectives. We will see how they respond, as people who watch for God’s lead. Not as puppets, but as God’s agents, prompted to tell what they have seen. To report and to share evidence of the new realities that God has brought about through Jesus. New realities that are rooted in the past, that exist in present realities, and that connect us to the future by pointing toward the salvation that God will ultimately accomplish.
And, perhaps, just perhaps, in our listening and learning, we, here at Grace and Glory, might discover--or rediscover--the availability of God’s salvation or God’s commitment to renew and restore right here in Goshen, Kentucky. That we might see, in our midst, our resurrected Lord 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 is the reality of our experience of a salvation from a disruptive God, for whom, with the resurrection nothing will ever be the same anymore. That is the basis for our joy. That is the basis for our laughter. That is why we celebrate Holy Hilarity Sunday.
And that is why we, and not death or the devil, have the last laugh.
Amen.
Preached April 23, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Second Sunday of Easter
Readings: Acts 2:14a, 22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Salt and Light
Matthew 5:13-20 (CEB). "You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its saltiness, how will it become salty again? It's good for nothing except to be thrown away and trampled under people's feet. You are the light of the world. A city on top of a hill can't be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. Instead, they put it on top of a lampstand, and it shines on all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven.
"Don't even begin to think that I have come to do away with the Law and the Prophets. I haven't come to do away with them but to fulfill them. I say to you very seriously that as long as heaven and earth exist, neither the smallest letter nor even the smallest stroke of a pen will be erased from the Law until everything there becomes a reality. Therefore, whoever ignores one of the least of these commands and teaches others to do the same will be called the lowest in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever keeps these commands and teaches people to keep them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. I say to you that unless your righteousness is greater than the righteousness of the legal experts and the Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Grace and peace to you from our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Well, I'm here! I made it!
After these past few weeks driving a rental truck to collect my stuff in storage at various points that, it seems, were all over the upper Midwest, I made it! I'm here!
I got all moved in on Tuesday, thanks to an amazing crew from this congregation who unloaded the truck in record time. And, over the past few days, I've been trying to organize. To get boxes in the right rooms. To get unpacked while I, at the same time, began my ministry here at Grace and Glory. It's been a busy week!
And, since Tuesday, I've been searching for salt. You see, I'm an egg eater in the mornings. I like my eggs scrambled, cooked into a frittata, or just simply hard-boiled, which is the easiest and fastest method.
On Tuesday night, the first night in my new apartment, I went out and got some hard-boiled eggs. The next morning, when I went to eat a couple of them for breakfast, I realized I had no salt. Well, actually, that's not completely true. I had salt. I just couldn't remember which box it was in.
So, I made myself a list because, of course, there were a few other things I needed. And on Wednesday evening, once again, I found myself in the grocery store. And I got everything on my list. Except the salt, which I forgot.
Thursday evening, though, I found the box. What a difference in those eggs I ate on Friday morning! The salt completely changed the flavor.
In our Gospel lesson today, we are presented with two images. One of those is salt.
Salt is one of those ingredients that has multiple properties. We see it used all over the Hebrew scriptures--the Old Testament--in many ways. It's connected to sacrifice. It's used as a purifying agent. Sharing it also suggests loyalty.
So, in the first few verses of our Matthew text today, when Jesus calls the disciples the "salt of the earth" and challenges them to live like salt, what he's really saying to them is to live this flavoring--to live a life that is pure and sacrificial and loyal. Not just towards God. But, particularly, towards the entire world.
This is what our Isaiah text is saying to us, too. This reading is a dialogue between the Jewish people and God. They come to God saying, "Look, God! We are keeping all of the rituals you want us to keep. We fast. And we fast. But you, God--you don't seem to see it!"
Then, God says back to them, "That's not what I see. I see that your rituals--your fasts. But they don't lead you to better behavior. You don't treat your neighbors better. You don't treat your workers well. The ritual of fasting does you no good because you aren't changed by it. There's no transformation." In fact, God says, "Your fasting is selfish. It's oppressive. It's violent!" And God calls them to look at their behavior, and to understand that the purpose of the ritual is that they might be changed. And to see, that unless they are changed, none of those rituals really matter.
That transformation is what Paul is talking about in our second reading when he refers to the "mind of Christ." We become spiritual people because the Holy Spirit works on us to change our hearts. If we are open to it, we are transformed. And we begin to live that salty life--a life that is flavored by God's love. Just like my eggs were flavored by that salt.
And this brings us to the second image. That of light.
In my new apartment, all of the windows are covered with plantation shutters. Do you know which ones I'm talking about? Each slat is about 2" wide. And, you know what? No matter how tight I try to shut them at night, because of the safety lights in my apartment complex, there is always just a little light that peeks through them.
When we live a salty life, we become light. Now, it may be a little light that just peeks out into the world. But, over time, we become a strong light that shines brightly out in the world. A light that seeks to share God's love. That seeks to change the world to become the just and righteous place that God intends.
It is not God's intent that our transformation is passive. Instead, God wants us to be active. To be out in the world, active, shining brightly. Finding those dark places in our world. Opening them up to the light of God--the light of Christ. Christ, the One who knows deeply about those dark places. The one who went into those dark places for us. Willingly. Sacrificially. Into the dark places. And became Light for us and for all people, in every time and every place.
When I first came to visit this place this past December and, as I've started to settle in over these past few days, I've been watching you. I've seen your welcome--you all living into the statement in your bulletin--that the doors of this church are always open to those seeking the Good News of the Holy Gospel.
You have done that welcome incredibly well! Through the food pantry, through WISE, through the backpack and quilt ministries. You have welcomed well.
Yet, out in the world there is much darkness. As believers, God is calling us to go out. To shine our light as a congregation out there.
Where are those dark places in Oldham County? Where are those places that resist God's justice and righteousness?
I'm wondering if, over the next several months as we begin ministry together, we might be challenged to think on these things. To wonder together how we continue to bring flavor here in this place and outside in the community. To wonder together how we continue to shine our light so that it, like the light of Christ, might never be diminished. And like the light in my apartment, find a way to peek through the darkness. To act.
I invite you to join with me in this work so that together we might be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. And I know and trust that the Holy Spirit will lead the way as we work together to carry out God's kingdom of justice and righteousness in our community and in our world.
May God grant this. Amen.
Preached February 5, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
5th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Isaiah 58:1-12, Psalm 112:1-9, 1 Corinthians 2:1-16, Matthew 5:13-20
"Don't even begin to think that I have come to do away with the Law and the Prophets. I haven't come to do away with them but to fulfill them. I say to you very seriously that as long as heaven and earth exist, neither the smallest letter nor even the smallest stroke of a pen will be erased from the Law until everything there becomes a reality. Therefore, whoever ignores one of the least of these commands and teaches others to do the same will be called the lowest in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever keeps these commands and teaches people to keep them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. I say to you that unless your righteousness is greater than the righteousness of the legal experts and the Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Grace and peace to you from our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Well, I'm here! I made it!
After these past few weeks driving a rental truck to collect my stuff in storage at various points that, it seems, were all over the upper Midwest, I made it! I'm here!
I got all moved in on Tuesday, thanks to an amazing crew from this congregation who unloaded the truck in record time. And, over the past few days, I've been trying to organize. To get boxes in the right rooms. To get unpacked while I, at the same time, began my ministry here at Grace and Glory. It's been a busy week!
And, since Tuesday, I've been searching for salt. You see, I'm an egg eater in the mornings. I like my eggs scrambled, cooked into a frittata, or just simply hard-boiled, which is the easiest and fastest method.
On Tuesday night, the first night in my new apartment, I went out and got some hard-boiled eggs. The next morning, when I went to eat a couple of them for breakfast, I realized I had no salt. Well, actually, that's not completely true. I had salt. I just couldn't remember which box it was in.
So, I made myself a list because, of course, there were a few other things I needed. And on Wednesday evening, once again, I found myself in the grocery store. And I got everything on my list. Except the salt, which I forgot.
Thursday evening, though, I found the box. What a difference in those eggs I ate on Friday morning! The salt completely changed the flavor.
In our Gospel lesson today, we are presented with two images. One of those is salt.
Salt is one of those ingredients that has multiple properties. We see it used all over the Hebrew scriptures--the Old Testament--in many ways. It's connected to sacrifice. It's used as a purifying agent. Sharing it also suggests loyalty.
So, in the first few verses of our Matthew text today, when Jesus calls the disciples the "salt of the earth" and challenges them to live like salt, what he's really saying to them is to live this flavoring--to live a life that is pure and sacrificial and loyal. Not just towards God. But, particularly, towards the entire world.
This is what our Isaiah text is saying to us, too. This reading is a dialogue between the Jewish people and God. They come to God saying, "Look, God! We are keeping all of the rituals you want us to keep. We fast. And we fast. But you, God--you don't seem to see it!"
Then, God says back to them, "That's not what I see. I see that your rituals--your fasts. But they don't lead you to better behavior. You don't treat your neighbors better. You don't treat your workers well. The ritual of fasting does you no good because you aren't changed by it. There's no transformation." In fact, God says, "Your fasting is selfish. It's oppressive. It's violent!" And God calls them to look at their behavior, and to understand that the purpose of the ritual is that they might be changed. And to see, that unless they are changed, none of those rituals really matter.
That transformation is what Paul is talking about in our second reading when he refers to the "mind of Christ." We become spiritual people because the Holy Spirit works on us to change our hearts. If we are open to it, we are transformed. And we begin to live that salty life--a life that is flavored by God's love. Just like my eggs were flavored by that salt.
And this brings us to the second image. That of light.
In my new apartment, all of the windows are covered with plantation shutters. Do you know which ones I'm talking about? Each slat is about 2" wide. And, you know what? No matter how tight I try to shut them at night, because of the safety lights in my apartment complex, there is always just a little light that peeks through them.
When we live a salty life, we become light. Now, it may be a little light that just peeks out into the world. But, over time, we become a strong light that shines brightly out in the world. A light that seeks to share God's love. That seeks to change the world to become the just and righteous place that God intends.
It is not God's intent that our transformation is passive. Instead, God wants us to be active. To be out in the world, active, shining brightly. Finding those dark places in our world. Opening them up to the light of God--the light of Christ. Christ, the One who knows deeply about those dark places. The one who went into those dark places for us. Willingly. Sacrificially. Into the dark places. And became Light for us and for all people, in every time and every place.
When I first came to visit this place this past December and, as I've started to settle in over these past few days, I've been watching you. I've seen your welcome--you all living into the statement in your bulletin--that the doors of this church are always open to those seeking the Good News of the Holy Gospel.
You have done that welcome incredibly well! Through the food pantry, through WISE, through the backpack and quilt ministries. You have welcomed well.
Yet, out in the world there is much darkness. As believers, God is calling us to go out. To shine our light as a congregation out there.
Where are those dark places in Oldham County? Where are those places that resist God's justice and righteousness?
I'm wondering if, over the next several months as we begin ministry together, we might be challenged to think on these things. To wonder together how we continue to bring flavor here in this place and outside in the community. To wonder together how we continue to shine our light so that it, like the light of Christ, might never be diminished. And like the light in my apartment, find a way to peek through the darkness. To act.
I invite you to join with me in this work so that together we might be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. And I know and trust that the Holy Spirit will lead the way as we work together to carry out God's kingdom of justice and righteousness in our community and in our world.
May God grant this. Amen.
Preached February 5, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
5th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Isaiah 58:1-12, Psalm 112:1-9, 1 Corinthians 2:1-16, Matthew 5:13-20
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Claiming LIfe
Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
“Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
“Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
“But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
“Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
“Woe to you when all speak well of you,
for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.
“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you. (Luke 6:20-31 NRSV.)
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
This past summer, as I was nearing the end of my internship and the end of my studies at Luther Seminary, I took a break from reading non-fiction. For nearly five years, it has seemed to me that the only books I’ve read have been those related to school, whether they were about theology, faith formation, church administration, missional leadership, or pastoral care--or any other topic a seminary student needs to know about in order to be a pastor. Or at least to be a beginning pastor.
So, I decided to read through the entire Harry Potter series.
Now I’m sure that I’m probably the only person alive in our world today who, by 2016, had not read any of these remarkable books by author J. K. Rowling. Unless, of course, some of you choose to admit that, too.
So, over about 6 weeks, I delved into the world of wizardry and Harry Potter.
The books were fascinating and magical. Frightening, at times. Funny, at others. It was completely worth it and, if you haven’t read them, I really encourage you to do so.
Now, I’m not going to preach on Harry Potter today. But, as I read through our lessons today and, particularly, the lesson from Daniel, about his vision of the four beasts, I couldn't help but think of the Dementors, those foul creatures from the Potter series. They are described as infesting the darkest, filthiest places; glorying in decay and despair; draining peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Get too near one and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you.
No wonder Daniel’s spirit was troubled within him. And the vision in his head terrified him.
This seems like a bizarre text for today, doesn’t it? On this All Saints Day, a day when we remember all those in the faith who have gone before us, who have moved from the Church Militant to the Church Triumphant, those whom we have loved and who have loved us and who, most importantly, have been examples of faith for us, examples of believing in God and trusting in God’s faithfulness. On this All Saints Sunday, this Daniel text just doesn’t seem like a good fit.
Oh, but it is!
In order to understand why it is so appropriate for us today, we have to understand the nature of this text. This portion of Daniel, along with the book of Revelation, is what we call apocalyptic literature. If you’ve ever read any part of Revelation, it can be a terrifying book. I had a parishioner last year who asked me why this book was in the Bible, sharing that it terrified her so much she never read it.
The function of this type of literature may be unfamiliar to us. It is crisis literature. It is literature written to encourage, to give hope and support in a time of crisis. In Jesus’ day, these passages from Daniel 7 were so widely read at the time, that there grew to be what we might call a Daniel 7 cult. It is from this text that we first hear the term “son of Man.” It is also one of the first anti-empire texts in scripture.
The beasts in this text represent empires. Empires that, like the Dementors, are sub-human. That drain the life out of our world. They seek to amass great wealth and power and, in the process, destroy our planet, destroy the poor, destroy peace.
It is in response to these destructive, Dementor-like empires that the “son of Man” comes. Here, in Daniel 7 we first hear that term--son of Man. Here in Daniel 7 we also hear the first anti-empire texts in scripture. Read Daniel 7:13b-14.
Daniel, troubled and terrified, seeks to understand his vision. In the interpretation, beginning with v. 17, notice that singular son of Man becomes plural. Look at verse 18. No longer does it read the “holy one of the Most High,” but the “holy ones of the Most High.” The saints of the Most High.
One individual sent by God stands up to the powers of empire. In Christ, God breaks into these destructive empires to establish God’s kingdom--a kingdom of justice and peace, a kingdom of love and forgiveness, a kingdom of hope and healing, a kingdom in the fullness of God in Christ.
The inbreaking begins with Christ’s coming. It continues through the work of the holy ones of the Most High--the saints we honor and remember here today. Some of them we read about in Scripture. Some became known across the world. But most, like the saints we remember today, were those who were not famous, not known. But they carried on the work of God’s kingdom. They shared their faith and gave us a glimpse of God’s kingdom so that we, too, might be called the saints of God, members of the body of Christ, the holy ones of the Most High.
We, saints, are citizens of a different kingdom than that of the empires of the world. It is this kingdom that Jesus describes today in our Gospel text.
It is a kingdom where true power is not shown in dominance, but in service to others. It is a kingdom that calculates worth based on a different standard. Where those with wealth stop working for the systems--the empires--that exploit the poor, instead of continuing to build more wealth. Where those with power, turn away from amassing more of that power to stand in solidarity with the poor and powerless and to seek to change the systems that continue to oppress them. Where God continues to lift up people who, under the world’s standards, have no business being lifted up. In this kingdom, God continues to lift them up--the poor, the hungry, the grief-stricken--and says to them, “These are the ones who are blessed. These are my people.”
It’s been a difficult election year in our nation, hasn’t it? It seems as though we have experienced--endured might be a better word--endured one of the ugliest elections in years. One of the most painful parts for me especially has been the insults and recriminations that have flown back and forth between political candidates and their followers, the daily barrage of hostility, cruelty, dismissiveness of “others”, whether women, Catholics, Mexicans, Asians, losers, Republicans, Democrats, Independents, Russians, or Syrians. I have to admit that I, too, have gotten caught up in the back and forth, in the ugliness of this election.
All of this--the insults, the recriminations, the name-calling, the hatred--all of it comes out of fear. It is the same fear that drives us to build walls to keep immigrants out. The same fear that drives us to create economic structures to wall in our profits and project our jobs. The same fear that causes us to protect ourselves and to keep what is ours. It is a fear that divides us and keeps us from experiencing the fullness of life in God’s kingdom and with each other. It is this division that Jesus warns us against in our text today. A division that, like the Dementors, destroys life and sucks away every happy memory, every shred of hope.
In a recent essay, Willie James Jennings, a theologian who graduated from my alma mater, Fuller Seminary, calls on all Americans and, particularly, Christians to “claim the power of life together precisely at the site of threat and fear. Our faith places us inside the actions of a God who faces our dangers and yet refuses to yield to fear. God offers life and invites us to gather courage there, making it a place where God creates community.”
Yielding to fear destroys community. Our Christian faith claims the power of life together precisely at the site of threat and fear.
This is exactly what Jesus’ disciples did in the first century. In the midst of a Roman empire that sought to destroy them, they claimed life right at the point of threat and fear, spreading the Good News throughout the Roman empire and beyond.
In the same way, Luther claimed life at the point of threat and fear as he stood up to challenge the authority of an empirical church that had lost its way, spreading the Good News throughout the Western world.
Over and over and over again, we have story after story of saints, known and unknown, who, in the midst of threat and fear, stood up and claimed life--showing the world and us how to imagine better, how to hope once again, and how to acknowledge that our lives and our needs, our safety and shalom are all in God’s hands.
So stand with this whole communion of saints today and claim life. Claim the gift of life that is yours through the death of our Savior Jesus Christ. And then dare to imagine and to engage the world in God’s name. Amen.
Preached on All Saints Sunday, November 6, 2016, at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Bastrop, TX.
Texts: Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18; Psalm 149; Ephesians 1:11-23; Luke 6:20-31.
Credit for ideas to WorkingPreacher.org.
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