God's Presence Brings Life: Dry Bones

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good News Spreads: Believing

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.  John 20:19-31 (NRSV)

Grace and joy to you from our Lord and resurrected Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Welcome to Holy Hilarity Sunday! Or as it is also called - Holy Humor Sunday. Or also - Bright Sunday. This is a tradition from the early church on this second Easter Sunday (There are seven Easter Sundays in this season!). After the grandeur and celebration of the first Easter Sunday, this is the Sunday in which we revel in the hilarity of God’s action--the resurrection as the last laugh of God’s over the devil. 

It is also, traditionally, the Sunday when we hear the Thomas story. Or “Doubting Thomas” as he has been nicknamed. So, thinking of both Thomas and Holy Hilarity Sunday, I went online searching for any jokes about Thomas.

Do you know that I couldn’t find any? Or, at least, not any that were good jokes. The best i found was this cartoon, where Thomas is frustrated with the other disciples…”All I’m saying is we don’t call Peter “Denying Peter” or Mark “Ran away naked Mark.” Why should I be saddled with this title?” And, then, the response, “I see your point, Thomas. But really, it’s time to move on.” 

Not funny!

So, then, I decided to search for different artist’s renditions of Thomas. I was pretty amazed at the volume of art that depicts the scene we heard in our reading this morning. This classic painting by Caravaggio. Or another by German Martin Schongauer. Or here’s one by another German, Emil Nolde--on the the first Expressionist painters. Or here’s one from contemporary Russian artist Andrey Skorodumov. Or another contemporary--Chinese artist James He Qi. And, then, finally, John Granville Gregory, who does a contemporary version of the classic by Caravaggio. 

As I looked at this different artistic interpretations of today’s gospel, I was particularly struck by their similarities. Do you see it? In each painting, every artist has captured Thomas’ need to experience the resurrected Jesus. Whether it is touching the wound on his side or viewing the nail holes in his hands, Thomas needs his own experience with the resurrected Jesus.

To have his own experience.  Have you ever had a friend say to you, “You’ve got to see this!”? Maybe it’s a movie they’re ranting about. Or a particular product. Or maybe it’s to see the sunset from this particular spot. Whatever it is, your friend comes to you and is enthusiastic about it. Even a little over-enthusiastic. To the point that maybe you begin to doubt it a little. Or to wonder about what is real and what is hype. It’s not that you don’t believe your friends experience, but more that you don’t have anything to compare to it yourself. You haven’t experienced it. And, so, to be able to offer your own testimony of the greatness of the movie, or the product, or the sunset, or whatever it is, you need to have your own experience. Just like Thomas.

The Gospel writer knows this. And writes in this pattern throughout John. Where someone hears about Jesus and needs more information. And, then, they receive what they need to come to their own experience of the life that Jesus is embodying. 

Remember Nathanael, our earliest example. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Or the woman at the well. “Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” Or the man born blind. Or Mary Magdalene on the first Easter morning: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

Each person who meets Jesus. Needing more information. So that they can have their own individual experience with him. 

I’d like to back us up a little in today’s story. In the section before the resurrected Jesus and Thomas meet, Jesus first appears to the rest of the disciples on the evening of that first Easter. He appears in the midst of them and offers them a blessing, “Peace be unto you.” Peace meaning shalom. That word from the Hebrew scriptures that connotes more than just peace, but a wholeness. A state of completeness. 

Jesus then shows them his hands and his side. They have their own experience with Jesus. An experience that brings them much joy. And, probably, a lot of laughter, too. Then, Jesus once again offers them a blessing of peace. And commissions them: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Jesus then breathes on them. In the Hebrew, ruach. That breath of God. The Holy Spirit. “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

There’s something interesting about this last sentence. Verse 23 in chapter 20. The phrase “the sins of” are not there in the original Greek. For years, translators have just assumed that these words are assumed. That they match the pattern of the first phrase--”if you forgive the sins of any.” But more recent scholarship has begun to question this assumption.  That perhaps these words should be assumed. 

So, what happens if we take the assumed phrase out? How does that change the meaning of this sentence.

In the closest verbatim translation, it would read like this “Of whomever you forgive the sins, they [the sins] are forgiven to them; whoever you hold fast [meaning embrace], they are held fast.

Or, to make it more understandable, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven. If you hold fast to someone, they are held fast.”

If you hold fast to someone, they are held fast. This is what Jesus does for Thomas. He holds him fast. It’s what Jesus did for Nathanael, for the woman at the well, for the blind man, for Mary Magdalene, for the disciples in fear behind locked doors on that Easter evening, and for nearly every other character introduced to us in John, Jesus holds them fast through their doubt, or their fear, or their partial understanding or whatever else it is until they receive what they need to believe. Until they experience what they need for faith. This is what Jesus has been doing throughout John’s gospel. Holding each person fast until he or she has their own experience of belief.

And, when Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit onto the disciples, Jesus is making is possible for them to continue his work. To continue his work of “holding fast” onto those “who have not yet seen.” “Holding fast” to others along with the accompanying work of forgiving sins.

This, my friends, is what we are called to do in this place. In the midst of our doubt. Or our fear. Or our grief or our anger, we are called to hold fast to each other. To embrace and share in that brokenness. Because it is there, in the brokenness, in the embrace, in the holding fast, that God enters in. That God is incarnated within us. In, with, and under. God enters in, kills our brokenness and brings new life. Wholeness. Shalom. God brings life out of death. God resurrects us. Just like Jesus. And just like Thomas.

Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Holly.
Holly who?
Hollylujah, Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Amen.

Preached April 8, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 2

Readings: Psalm 145:13-21; John 20:19-31.

Living in Exile

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

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

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


Last week we talked about how God is with us--with all of God’s people--even in our fiery furnaces. 

Our reading today is from the prophet Ezekiel. It’s the reading of the Valley of the Dry Bones. For many of us, I think, this is perhaps the only reading we know or that we’ve heard from Ezekiel. I would guess that we know it most likely because we are familiar with the song connected to the story. Do you know which song I mean?

Yes, the song “Dem Bones.” You know it, don’t you? It's a lot of fun. Yet, it doesn’t begin to capture how truly gruesome Ezekiel’s vision really is. 

The prophet Ezekiel had been a priest at the temple in Jerusalem. He had been part of the first group of exiles taken into captivity. Actually, he and the other exiles he was with had been forced to walk to Babylon. By the time of this vision in our story today, all of Israel was now exiled. They had experienced the destruction of city and nation, the downfall of their monarchy, the loss of their temple and, as a result, the center of their religious life, and, amidst the horror of all of this, they had been forced to walk to Babylon. To the land from where their earliest ancestor, Abraham, had come.

They thought that the end of the dynasty of King David and the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem meant that their covenant with God had ended. That all hope of restoration for their country was lost. For just a moment, imagine that you are one of the Israelites in exile. God promised you that you would be God’s special people, a great multitude, as many as the stars in the sky, that you would be blessed so that you could be a blessing to others, and that God would always be with you. God promised you a king, a land of your own, and a special relationship that was developed through the rituals in the temple, in the one place where God dwelled on earth.

All of that is now gone. You live in another land. There is no Israelite nation. There is no Davidic king. There is no temple. Is there also no God? Or is this a sign that God is no longer with you? How would you feel in this situation?

The people were in deep despair. Without hope. It is no wonder then, that in Ezekiel’s metaphorical vision, they are pictured as dry bones. Bones after bones after bones in this valley. Dead. Without life. Formless and shapeless. 

But, then, God tells Ezekiel to speak to them. To prophesy. To speak to them the word of the Lord. 

Ezekiel hears it before he sees it. The bones begin to rattle. And then they begin to come together, bone to bone. And then the tendons and the muscles and flesh begin to cover the bones. Yet, as Ezekiel watches, he sees that even though the bones have been re-formed, re-created into bodies, there is no life in them. No breath.

Then God tells Ezekiel to, once again, prophesy. To tell the winds to blow and to breathe into these bodies. To breathe life into these bodies. Into this people. In the very same way that God breathed life into all humanity at creation. (Pause and unmute.)

This prophecy of Ezekiel’s is a vision of hope for Israel. It is a promise for them that, even though they now are exiled, that they have lost everything, that they are dead and lifeless, God will restore them. That God will breathe new life into them. That’s the promise. That God will return them back to their land. 

But, this vision of life does not picture a life that is exactly as it was before their exile. It is a promise of a re-created people. A transformed community. It is not just about restoration. But, it is about transformation. Because God is always creating. Always transforming.

 And yet, it is a resurrection that also has continuity. The people of God will still be the people of God. Israel will still be Israel.  But they will be a transformed people of God.

Transformation and continuity. This is also the story of the work of Father Greg Boyle. Father Greg, or “G” as the gang-bangers of east L.A. call him, is a Jesuit priest working in an area in Los Angeles that has the largest concentration of gang members in the world.

Over the past 30 years, he has witnessed the transformation of many homeboys through the ministry of his parish. Transformation. Transformation and continuity. For once a homeboy, always a homeboy. One such story is that of Bandit, a gang banger from the Aliso Village Housing Project in Los Angeles. Let’s listen as Father Greg tells his story. 

And the soul feels its worth. Isn’t this the story of Israel? Exiled. Yet, still loved by God and finding its worth in that love. Still given hope. Promised restoration, transformation.

Isn’t this our story, especially in our world today? Often feeling hopeless, despairing of difficulties in our lives or in our country. Feeling separated from each other, or from loved ones who may live far away or who are, perhaps, no longer alive. Like those dry, dry bones in the valley. 

And yet, we, like Israel, hold fast to the hope given to us. A hope that comes to us through the new life we have in Christ. A hope that is renewed this Advent as we are reminded of God coming into our world. In Jesus. Emmanuel. God with us. 

God kept God’s promise to Israel. May we continue to hold fast to hope and to that which God has promised to us--that God’s kingdom will be restored in all its fullness here on earth with justice and with mercy. And that we will be a part of it.

May God grant it. Amen.

Preached December 10, 2017 at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
2nd Sunday of Advent
Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14; John 11:25-26

Claimed

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

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

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

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

Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

“Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human One be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him.  -John 3:1-17 (CEB)

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

I love ritual. That sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it? But, I admit it. I love ritual. I’m a creature of habit.  Whether it’s my morning ritual that begins each day, hopefully, with a cup of coffee, or whether it’s our weekly pattern of worship, our ritual, that follows the order of the mass that comes down to us from the early church--whatever the ritual, I love it.

So, it’s probably no wonder that, in seminary, my favorite courses were those about the rituals of the church, especially those of the early church. For me, studying them has helped me better understand many of the rituals that we follow today--nearly all of which came out of the early church. Studying them also gives me a deeper understanding of Scripture and the beliefs of the early church, beliefs that arose out of the Hebrew scriptures and those, written by the apostles, that we call the New Testament.  

Last week, we began over these 40 days of Lent to take a look at our our ritual of baptism. We began to look at it, thinking that, if we better understand the promises made in this ritual, we might better become the baptismal people we profess to be. That we might better become the story we tell. 

We began last week with the three renunciations. Those three questions asked of every baptismal candidate--questions that we still ask today. Do you renounce the devil? Do you renounce the ways of the world? Do you renounce the ways of sin?

In the early church, before these three renunciations, the candidates would have been stripped of all clothing. Stripped of their jewelry. Stripped away of anything that might suggest their former life. They would then be led naked, down into the water. Into a river or a moving stream. It was here, waste-deep in water, that they would be turned to face west. West. The place of the setting sun. Of the beginning of darkness. Of night. Or, symbolically, the place of unbelief.

Facing west, they would speak the three renunciations, declaring their intent to renounce all those things that separate us from God. Then, the priest would blow three times into each candidate’s nostrils. This blowing or breath was a ritual intended to signify the coming of the Spirit. The in-breathing of the Holy Spirit. The entry of the breath of God. 

Next, although there are some variations in the early rituals, the candidates would then be anointed on the forehead and the chest with oil--an “Oil of Catechumens.” This anointing symbolized the need of each person for the help and strength of God to sever the bondage of the past and to overcome the opposition of the devil and the powers of darkness so that they might profess their faith, come to baptism, and be claimed as a child of God. 

Once this anointing with oil was concluded, the candidates were, once again, asked three questions. These questions, though, were unlike the previous renunciations. This time, the questions were about beliefs. They are the same questions we ask today.

“Do you believe in God the Father?”
“Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God?”
“Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?”

Do you believe? 

Believing. That’s the point of our Gospel text today. The reason Nicodemus came to Jesus at night. In the dark. In unbelief. Seeking to believe.

Oh, perhaps, Nicodemus was on his way to believing. After all, he and the others had witnessed the signs--the miracles--Jesus did. And, they had decided that no one could do this things unless they were of God.

But seeing the signs is not enough. The kingdom of God can’t be seen with physical eyes. Rather it is a reality that can only be perceived through the eyes of the Spirit, after a person has been born “anew” or “from above.” The kingdom of God can only be seen by those who have experienced a spiritual rebirth. Who have been “born again.”

Now, being “born again” is not a re-commitment. It isn’t a decision we make once we’re past the age of consent. 

To be “born again” or to be “born from above” is a spiritual rebirth that is worked in us by God through the power of the Holy Spirit. It is a spiritual rebirth into the family of God, where, just like a child, we recognize that our entire existence depends upon God. That we are fully dependent upon and trust in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. For everything we need. 

To be “born again” is to recognize that there is nothing we do to receive this new birth--that it is a call from God through the Holy Spirit to enter into full relationship with God. To come into the full presence of God and to find wholeness and new life.

To be “born again” is to know that God’s desire is that the whole world would come to be saved, to gain eternal life. God’s desire is not to judge the world, but to save the world. 

And to be “born again” is to know that in our baptism and every Sunday when we say the words of the Creed, “I believe,” we are saying that we trust. We trust in God the Father Almighty. We trust in Jesus Christ. We trust in the Holy Spirit. We trust. And, in trusting, we are doing much, much more than simply consenting to a belief in a particular Christian doctrine. We are giving witness of this relationship with God to the entire world.

That’s what Jesus was offering Nicodemus--to come into the same relationship and to exist in the presence of God. But, eventually, he did. And eventually it was he, along with others, who anointed and buried the body of Christ after his death on the cross.

Last week, I sent you home with a wilderness stone. It was something to keep in your pocket during the week to remind you that, when you are tested, Jesus has passed the test for you. 

This week, as we leave worship, I will be giving you a small bottle of anointing oil. May you use this during the week, perhaps by marking the sign of the cross on your forehead or by anointing your hands in service. May this be, as it was in the baptismal rituals of the early church--may this be a reminder to you that in your own rebirth, God has claimed you.  Claimed you to be God’s own child, claimed you to be in full relationship with God, and claimed you to be given new life in God’s kingdom. Forever and ever.

This is what we believe. This is what we trust.

Amen.

Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday in Lent.
Readings: Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17.

Children of the Wind

I’m a child of the wind. 

There’s a lot of wind here in southeastern Minnesota, much more than I expected and much more, it seems, than I experienced last year in St. Paul.  But, as a native of South Dakota, I have to make the claim that you really don’t know wind until you've lived west of the Missouri River in that state. 

Growing up, wind was an everyday experience for us. A good wind day mean that there were gentle breezes in the 10-12 mph category.  A bad wind day mean that those gentle breezes turned into gale force winds, in the 50-60 mph category, sometimes even higher.  Winter wind chill temperatures were brutal.  Spring and fall were always gusty, blowing leaves and dust all over the place.  And summer winds almost always blew in an afternoon thunderstorm.  

Those days that were good wind days--well, they were magnificent.  As a little girl, I remember walking in our pastures in the summertime, feeling the gentle breeze, which brought cool relief from days that could be very hot and humid. They also carried the wonderful smell of prairie grasses to my nose--a sweet, rather exotic smell that, if I closed my eyes right now, I could still smell it in my imagination.  It was there, in our pasture filled with prairie grasses and tickled with gentle breezes that I felt one with God and all creation.  Thinking about those experiences takes me to this day to a place of deep peace.  

Yet, that same gentle breeze can turn into something that feels terrifying or risky or unexpected, can’t it?  I've experienced that many times throughout my life living through many a tornado watch, eyeing a few that have come dangerously close, praying that they would switch direction. Driving 200 miles in the midst of a winter blizzard, guiding my mother as she drove in near-zero visibility by opening my door ever so slightly to watch the lines painted on the highway.  As an adult, I’ve stood close to the edges of cliffs as a hard wind blew off the ocean, taking a risk and leaning into it with the full knowledge that if the wind should stop suddenly I might easily go over the edge.  Flying kites over the years with my son, confident in my own abilities until suddenly with little warning, the wind would send my kite crashing to the ground.  

Yes, even with its contradictory nature, I’m a child of the wind.

So, imagine my delight when, in my first years of seminary, I learned that the word in scripture used for the Spirit means wind and, even, breath of God.  It seemed fitting somehow.  That the Holy Spirit--this mysterious third person of the Godhead, this unseen presence sent by God into the world that appears in the most unexpected places, this Comforter that both reminds us of what God has said and continues to teach us about God, this Advocate through whom God has claimed us as God’s own and has formed us into the body of Christ--well, it seems only fitting that this Holy Spirit should be characterized as wind derived from God's breath.  That natural, contradictory, unexpected force that, for me, can mean both deep peace and unexpected danger or risk.  As John writes in the third chapter of his gospel, “God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes.  You hear her sound, but you don’t know where she comes from or where she is going.”

Perhaps that is what is most unsettling about the Holy Spirit.  It seems fairly easy to understand and categorize God the Father as creator and loving parent.  It seems easier to understand and categorize God the Son as redeemer and savior of the world.  But, it is really hard to easily understand and categorize the Holy Spirit, isn’t it?  This Being who works in the water of baptism and the bread and wine of communion to bring us to faith, to forgive our sin, and to bring us into community with one another.  This Breath who speaks through the words of Scripture to us in our own language to further reveal who God is.  This Person who shows up when we least expect her and most need her through the kind words of a stranger, the supportive words of a Stephen Minister, or the challenging words of a close friend.  This Unseen Force who nudges us to act as we seek to “walk our talk” in our daily lives instead of just on Sunday mornings.  And who works on the hearts of people, pushing them to give out of their abundance to pledge amounts high above expectations for a building expansion to better serve their community.  This Spirit Wind who, in one moment, carries us peacefully like a kite in the blue sky and who, in the very next, pushes us forward, into new and sometimes terrifying places. And who continues to weave newness into the fabric of our lives and the world and all creation.  This is the Holy Spirit.

And we are all her children.  Children of the Wind. Children of the Holy Spirit.  

So, let us pray then. Using the words of Walter Brueggemann, let us pray that the Holy Spirit might continue to come--to work in us and in our world. 

We name you wind, power, force, and then,
    imaginatively, "Third Person."
We name you and you blow...
    blow hard,
    blow cold,
    blow hot,
    blow strong,
    blow gentle,
    blow new...
Blowing the world out of nothing to abundance,
blowing the church out of despair to new life,
blowing little David from shepherd boy to messiah,
blowing to make things new that never were.
    So blow this day, wind,
        blow here and there, power,
        blow even us, force,
Rush us beyond ourselves,
Rush us beyond our hopes,
Rush us beyond our fears, until we enact your newness in the world.
    Come, come spirit.  Amen.


Preached May 15, 2016, at Chatfield Lutheran Church.  The prayer is by Walter Brueggemann in his collection entitled Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), p. 167.)