Encountering the Messiah: Overturning Tables

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

Our reading today is from John, chapter 2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3rd Sunday after Epiphany

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

Partners and Promise: Breaking Barriers

Last week, as we began our four week series in Ephesians, I mentioned to you the general consensus among theologians that this letter was not written by Paul. For some of you, this may be a little unsettling. Yet, we know that this was a way of doing things in the first century. We also know that this letter was used widely in the early church and was accepted as authoritative by church leaders when the canon - the collection of writings that make up our Christian Bible - was decided.

One of the reasons that it has been determined that this is not Paul’s letter is because the author of Ephesians goes a little further than Paul in a few areas. One of these relates to Christian baptism. Both authors write of baptism as a death and resurrection. That in our baptisms we die to an old way of being and are raised to a new person in Christ. Paul is careful to locate that resurrection with Christ into a future time - at the fullness of time. We heard this today in the Romans text: “we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.”

The Ephesians author goes further than Paul - saying that Christians have already been raised with Christ. And, therefore, are already part of Christ's heavenly kingdom. Just a few verses before our reading today, the author to the Ephesians writes these famous verses: “But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ - by grace you have been saved - and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” The writer continues: “so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God - not the result of works, so that no one may boast.” 

This idea, that through our baptisms we are already part of Christ’s heavenly kingdom then sets the stage for our reading today, which begins to unpack the mystery of God’s plan mentioned last week. The mystery of the new thing that God is doing.

We read today in Ephesians, chapter 2.

11Remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called “the uncircumcision” by those who are called “the circumcision”—a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands—12remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. 13But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. 14For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. 15He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, 16and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. 17So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; 18for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, 20built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. 21In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; 22in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God. --Ephesians 2:11-22 (CEB)

Who is your enemy? That may be a startling way to begin. But, who is your enemy? This is really the question that is being asked here.

To understand this, we need to grasp the huge divide between Jews and Gentiles in the first century. The Gentiles to the Jews were anyone and everyone who were not Jewish. There was deep hostility between Jews and Gentiles - hostility that was bound up with the law, which created personal and social antagonism between them. The laws, for example, that made eating with or intermarrying with Gentiles often led Jews to have contempt for Gentiles, regarding them as less than human. In response, then, Gentiles would often regard Jews with suspicion, considering them inhospitable and hateful to non-Jews. They would engage in prejudicial acts against the Jews.  This mutual animosity was one of the uglier elements of the first century world.

We might think of the relationship between Lutherans and Roman Catholics. My family is half Lutheran and half Catholic. When I was young, my aunt, who was Lutheran, fell in love with and married my uncle, who was Roman Catholic. It was scandalous in my family. So scandalous that my grandmother did not speak to my aunt for decades. Perhaps something like this has happened in your family. Where the barriers - the divisions - that arise, that we create, deeply harm relationships. 

But, the Ephesians author argues here - but Christ has demolished this law, this barrier between Jews and Gentiles, between Lutherans and Roman Catholics. To take it further, between black and white, gay and straight, liberal and conservative, and on and on. By demolishing the law, Christ has made each person part of the heavenly kingdom. Taking two divisive elements and creating one new person that transcends the two. A new creation. This is the claim of Ephesians.

And going further, the Church is the place where the results of this peacemaking by Christ, this embodiment of peace by Christ, is to be seen. Verses 15 and 16 from today’s reading: He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it.” 

If Christ has done this for Jew and Gentile, then Christ has done this wherever there is division, whether that division is caused by tradition, by class, by color, by nation, by groups of nations or by whatever it is that divides us. And we, in the Church, in this temple where God dwells, are called to be the example of what it is to embody peace. To move into the places in relationships that are uncomfortable. To cross the barriers that exist. Through our relationship with Christ and our relationship with one another, we are being shaped into a sanctuary that is fully fit for God.

So, back to my opening question. Who is your enemy? What are the relationships in your life that are characterized by division. Whether that division comes as a result of color or class or even just personality? Christ calls us to move beyond the division, to work to repair these relationships in our lives and in our church.

This morning, I invite you to sit silently for a few minutes before we sing our hymn of the day. What are these relationships that need tending in your life? Make a note in your bulletin of one of them. Then, add one step you can make, one uncomfortable step you can make, that begins to bridge the divide in that relationship. And trust that Christ will be in the midst of it overcoming the barriers that exist. Amen.

Preached July 18, 2021, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Goshen, and Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Ephesians 2:11-22, Romans 6:1-11, Psalm 84

Journey to the Cross: God, the Ultimate Baker

Now the festival of Unleavened Bread, which is called the Passover, was near. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to put Jesus to death, for they were afraid of the people.

Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was one of the twelve; he went away and conferred with the chief priests and officers of the temple police about how he might betray him to them. They were greatly pleased and agreed to give him money. So he consented and began to look for an opportunity to betray him to them when no crowd was present.

Then came the day of Unleavened Bread, on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. So Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, “Go and prepare the Passover meal for us that we may eat it.” They asked him, “Where do you want us to make preparations for it?” “Listen,” he said to them, “when you have entered the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him into the house he enters and say to the owner of the house, ‘The teacher asks you, “Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ He will show you a large room upstairs, already furnished. Make preparations for us there.” So they went and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.

When the hour came, he took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, “Take this and divide it among yourselves; for I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood. But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!” Then they began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do this.

A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest. But he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves. --Luke 22:1-27 (NRSV)

Tonight, we remember the last night Jesus spent with his disciples celebrating the Passover meal. We remember that the early church would gather for Agape meals or love feasts to remember Jesus’ life and ministry, to affirm their communal identity as the body of Christ, and to share food and resources so everyone would have enough. 

Tonight, we gather at many tables in many different homes to remember that meal so long ago when Jesus gathered with his dearest friends, his disciples. We remember the wilderness around us: isolation, illness, unemployment, homelessness, racism, violence, fear, uncertainty, grief. We also remember the wilderness to come for Jesus: betrayal, denial by his closest friends, suffering and death. 

Yet, in this wilderness through which we have been walking, and in the wilderness Jesus would experience, there would be moments. Moments of the unexpected. Moments of new realization. Moments of learning.

Over this past year, I’ve become a YouTube watcher. Some of this certainly has to do with the algorithms that continue to offer videos that draw me in.  Many of them have been about food and cooking. And bread baking. Perhaps, it’s the bread baking videos that catch me most, because, I don’t know about you, but there is something about a freshly baked loaf of bread that brings back many memories. Memories of my mother, who, for many years, would diligently bake a couple of loaves of bread each week.

I recently watched a video by Peter Reinhart, author of many books on baking bread. In it, he talked about the transformational aspects of bread. He suggested that to fully understand what it is about bread that is so special - the metaphorical and mystical aspects of bread baking - we must understand it at the most literal level. 

So what must happen to create a loaf of bread? Bread first begins as wheat. A grass that grows in the field at some point puts out seeds. That we harvest. Harvesting is really just a euphemism for killing. The wheat gives up its seeds, which, for the wheat plant are a promise of future life. But, instead the seeds are given up, crushed, and turned into flour. The plant is killed and denied the potential for creating future life. So, the first transformation, which is a radical change from one thing into something else - the first transformation is that the wheat stalk moves from being alive to dead.

Next, the flour is merged with water and salt. This creates something like a clay that is then infused with yeast or leaven. The word “leaven” is related to the word “enliven” - to bring life. The Hebrew word for clay is adam. The baker, according to Reinhart, is the god of the dough. When the leaven is added to this clay, it grows. Or proofs, in baker terminology. It proves that there is life. There are things happening: the enzymes break forth sugar, the yeast eats the sugar, which turns to carbon dioxide. The bacteria eats that same sugar to turn to acid. The personality and character of the bread is being developed under the watching gaze of the baker. The bakers choices all along the way determine the outcome of the final product. A subtle change in temperature or time or something else can change the final product. Then, the dough that worked and kneaded to develop the gluten - this net that develops that holds the loaf together - yet all along, the dough continues to prove that it is alive and is developing character. This is the second transformation - when the wheat and the dough created from it has moved from being dead to being alive.

But, then, it’s time to bake. The dough, shaped and formed, is placed into an oven. When the bread reaches the temperature of 140 degrees it passes the TDP, the thermal death point. All life ceases there. The yeast, whose mission up to now has been to raise, to enliven the dough to complete its mission, has to give up its life. It moves from being alive to being dead. Another transformation.

The final transformation involves us. We eat the bread. It nurtures us and gives us life, thus completing the life cycle once again. 

Over and over and over again, this process of death and resurrection happens in the life cycle of the bread. In the same way, over and over and over again, this process of death and resurrection happens in the bread we eat in this meal. This final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples on that Passover Eve. A meal that would bring betrayal and death to Jesus. And yet, a meal that would bring life to the community he would leave behind, that he would infuse with his Spirit. That he would continue to transform through this meal - a meal that we still share today. A meal of bread and wine that is not simply about remembering, like the memories that I have of my mother baking bread. But a meal that is transformational. A mystical meal in which we believe that Jesus is present with us, here and now, continuing to transform us. Forgiving the dead parts of us. Bring life out of that death. Molding and shaping us into the people and the community God desires us to be. A people like Jesus. Humble. Serving. Loving. 

May we trust in and experience this transformation tonight and as we go throughout our lives, challenging as they may be in this very moment. May we remember that God is the ultimate bread baker. That God makes the ultimate choices. And that, in the end, God always brings life from death. Amen.

Preached April 1, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Maundy Thursday

Readings: Luke 22:1-27; selections from John 13.

Journey to the Cross: Insiders and Outsiders

In today’s story, Jesus and his group of disciples are nearing Jericho, which is only 15 miles from Jerusalem. We are nearing the end of Jesus’ ministry and of his journey to the cross. Before we hear our reading today, a reading that is in three parts, I’d like us to look back at the journey we’ve taken alongside Luke’s Jesus. 

If you remember way back to January, we heard Jesus outline this ministry, quoting from Isaiah 61: “...the Lord has anointed me...to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to liberate the oppressed, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” What Jesus has been offering along the way is salvation that is open to everyone. But not salvation that is not a “cookie-cutter” approach, but healing is unique as we and our needs are. 

With all of this in mind, we now read the first of three parts of today’s lesson - stories that are all about seeing. Or not seeing.

We read, beginning Luke, chapter 18.

Then he took the twelve aside and said to them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. For he will be handed over to the Gentiles; and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. After they have flogged him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise again.” But they understood nothing about all these things; in fact, what he said was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.

It’s the third time. The third time that Jesus has predicted his upcoming passion to the disciples. And yet, as before, they don’t get it. Whether it is that they refuse to see these events coming, or whether it is so far outside the realm of the possible for them to grasp, our text tells us that these things that Jesus is predicting are “hidden” from them. Those who are closest to Jesus - the insiders - do not see.  Are we like the disciples? The baptized, the church, the insiders? Unable to see how Jesus might be leading us to new things? To the death and resurrection in this moment? 

Our reading continues.

As he approached Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard a crowd going by, he asked what was happening. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” Then he shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Those who were in front sternly ordered him to be quiet; but he shouted even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and ordered the man to be brought to him; and when he came near, he asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, praised God.

What’s interesting about this blind man is how well he sees! When he hears the crowd and asks what’s going on, they tell him that it is Jesus of Nazareth. He is the one who responds, for the first time in Luke, naming Jesus as the Son of David. A direct reference to the Messiah. It’s no wonder, then, that the crowd shushes him. Because to proclaim Jesus as Messiah is to risk upsetting the occupying powers, who would be threatened by this political threat. Be quiet - they tell the blind man - this outsider, who sees more fully than anyone else. 

Yet, he persists. He is not quiet. He is not orderly. After all, in their view, he is already an outcast. So, he begs for mercy more loudly, demanding Jesus’ attention. Notice that Jesus doesn’t immediately heal him, but asks him what he needs. Notice also that the blind man boldly responds. Naming his own need. And trusting, with a deep faith, that Jesus will provide. 

Do we see Jesus as the blind man did? As Messiah - as savior of the world? Who can save, or, more correctly, heal us? Or heal the church? Or heal the world? Do we have the faith of the blind man? Do we have his hope? His sight?  

Jesus sees his faith. Restores his sight. And welcomes him back into community. He will no longer be an outcast. This is the salvation Jesus provides. Not simply healing, but wholeness and belonging.

And, then, we come to the story of Zacchaeus. In chapter 19.

[Jesus] entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

If we thought the blind man was an outcast, Zacchaeus takes the cake. Literally. He is a rich man. We’ve heard before what Luke thinks of wealth and how much harder it is for those with wealth to enter God’s kingdom. In large part, because wealth is a powerful master.

Zacchaeus is a chief tax collector. He’s the boss of the tax collectors - the one who has contracted with Rome to collect the tolls that must be paid to use the famous Roman thoroughfares.  The tax collectors are his subcontractors. He’s their boss. If tax collectors are despised in Judea, consider how much more Zacchaeus is hated. On top of this, Zacchaeus, who is Jewish, is viewed as a Roman collaborator, ostracizing him even more. And the cherry on top? Zacchaeus is short. 

Now, this isn’t an indictment of anyone here who is short. Today, being short isn’t viewed in the same way as in ancient times. Think tall, statuesque, chiseled-featured Roman soldier, and you get it. Zacchaeus didn’t fit that mold. Zacchaeus was an outsider in every way.  

But, Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus. Boss tax collector, collaborator with the enemy, rich, short Zacchaeus just wanted to see Jesus. But, the crowd was in his way. So, he climbed a tree. Now this was not a proper move on his part. After all, someone of his wealth and status should simply show more dignity. But, Zacchaeus was more interested in seeing Jesus than in preserving his reputation. Jesus saw that in him. Approached the tree and told him to come down. And then, promptly, invited himself to dinner.

But there’s something else here. A correction that we must make about Zacchaeus. I don’t know about you, but I grew up hearing this story told as a story of repentance. That, after meeting Jesus, Zacchaeus promises to change his ways. But, there’s a problem with that interpretation. Because the verb used in verse 8 is not a future tense verb, where Zacchaeus promises that he will give to the poor or that, if he has cheated someone, he will pay back four times as much. In fact, the verbs in this verse are in the present tense. Which suggests that Zacchaeus is already doing this. And exceeding what the law requires of him: giving half of his money to the poor instead of the required 10%, repaying those who have been cheated twice as much as the law requires. Zacchaeus isn’t in need of forgiveness. Zacchaeus is a model of how the wealthy can use their wealth to serve the kingdom of God. 

So, Zacchaeus doesn’t need forgiveness here. What he needs is to belong. To be part of a community that welcomes him. That no longer views him, wrongly, as a sinner. It’s why Jesus invites himself to dinner. To send a message to the insiders that this outsider is welcome in the kingdom of God.

---

For those of us on the inside, the most profound witness to Jesus can often be heard and seen through an outsider lens. Sometimes, we, like the Pharisees, get so caught up in our rules and our regulations and our way of doing things that we become blind to what God is really doing - what God is doing in our own lives, but especially what God is doing in the world around us. Yet, what God is doing is succinctly summarized in the closing verse of our lesson, in verse 10. “The Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost.” 

The truth is that we’re all lost. We’re all in need of being found. Of being seen. Of being healed. Of being restored to the community. We’re all in need of being saved, whatever that may look like. Salvation, full participation in the reign of God, is what Jesus offers. 

This is God’s truth in Luke. That, in Jesus, salvation is offered to everyone. No matter who you are. No matter where you came from. No matter what. Salvation is offered to all, insider and outsider alike. Because this is who God is. And what our God desires. For you. And for me.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Preached March 21, 2021, online at Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Readings: Psalm 84:1-4, 10-12; Luke 18:31-19:10

God Sightings: Elijah and the Widow

As we often do in beginning our story today, we need to catch up on the action in-between - from last Sunday's story to today's. 

We heard, last week, about King David. About his desire to build God a house. And how, instead, God abundantly poured out more grace upon David, with a promise that his house - his ancestral line - would live forever and ever. Even with his mistakes, David was deeply loved by God. He was a humble warrior, a servant, and a king. One could say that David has a golden heart. 

King Solomon - David’s son, succeeded him on the throne. Solomon’s reign began well as he asked God for a discerning heart, so that he might have the wisdom and understanding to govern God’s people with fairness. Under Solomon, Israel experienced a “Golden Age” of peace and prosperity. 

But, this did not last. One might say that Solomon externalized the gold. He forgot that the gold that God desires for God’s people is the golden shrine of a surrendered heart - not the gold shine of a big building. Solomon violated the rules for kings that had been established in Deuteronomy. He amassed for himself great wealth, great military power and, most troubling, a vast harem of foreign wives who wooed him with their pagan gods. The gold became tarnished. Solomon abandoned Yahweh, following after the gods of his wives. And he would be cut off from the blessing of God.

After Solomon’s death, his son, Rehoboam, took the the throne of David.  Things went from bad to worse. His stubbornness and detachment from the plight of the lower class in Israel led to the rebellion of ten of the twelve tribes of Israel.  The nation would split in two. In the south, Judah would remain, under the rule of David’s line, centered in Jerusalem. In the north, Israel - the rebelling tribes - would be ruled by Jeroboam, eventually centered in Samaria. He would build two temples to complete with the temple in Jerusalem. One at Beth-el. A second at Dan. In each temple, King Jeroboam would place a golden calf to represent the God of Israel. 

From this point on, the story goes back and forth between the two kingdoms. Each has about 20 successive kings. Scripture tells us that, in the north, none of the kings followed God’s will. They were zero for 20. In the south, Judah would have 8 of 20 identified as “good” kings. 

Which brings us, today, to Ahab. In the verses that just precede our text today, we read that Ahab “did evil in the Lord’s eyes, more than anyone who preceded him.” He had married a foreign wife, Jezebel. A Phoenician princess from Sidon. Ahab served and worshipped Baal, her Phoenician god, making an altar for Baal in the temple constructed in Samaria for this purpose. He did more to anger God than any of Israel’s preceding kings. 

It is here where our story opens this morning. But, not quite yet.

In last week’s story, one of the characters we met was the Prophet Nathan. 

We really haven’t talked about the role of prophets - these key figures in Israel’s history. They weren’t fortune-tellers, predicting the future. Instead, they spoke on behalf of the God of Israel, playing the role of covenant watchdogs, calling out idolatry and injustice among the kings and the people. 

And constantly reminding Israel of their calling to be the light to the kingdoms and to keep the covenant as it had been established in the Torah.

So, today, in our lesson consisting of three small stories, we meet the Prophet Elijah. 

We begin in 1st Kings, chapter 17.

Elijah from Tishbe, who was one of the settlers in Gilead, said to Ahab, “As surely as the Lord lives, Israel’s God, the one I serve, there will be neither dew nor rain these years unless I say so.”

Then the Lord’s word came to Elijah: Go from here and turn east. Hide by the Wadi Cherith that faces the Jordan River. You can drink from the brook. I have also ordered the ravens to provide for you there. Elijah went and did just what the Lord said. He stayed by the Wadi Cherith that faced the Jordan River. The ravens brought bread and meat in the mornings and evenings. He drank from the Cherith Brook. After a while the brook dried up because there was no rain in the land. 1 Kings 17:1-7 (CEB)

Perhaps the biggest mistake Ahab made was to marry Jezebel. It wasn’t her ethnicity that was a problem. Instead, it was that she came from a nation that worshipped idols. Soon, Israel and Phoenicia would become allies. And, together, Ahab and Jezebel would lead Israel to worship Baal and engage in other pagan customs. Ahab encouraged the Israelites to blend these customs with their worship of God, despite very specific commands given in Deuteronomy to not mix pagan worship with true worship of God.

Idolatry had become a huge problem in Israel.

Enter the Prophet Elijah. He relays a message from God. There will be a drought in the land until Ahab repents. This does not make the king happy. 

Soon, God instructs Elijah to leave - to get away from Ahab, to flee Samaria and the angry king, and to go east, back toward his homeland. He heads to the Wadi Cherith, a brook that feeds into the Jordan River that is often full of water when it rains. But, then, quickly dries up. It is here, beside the Wadi Cherith, that God sustains Elijah - sending ravens to deliver food, morning and evening. Day after day. 

Our story continues.

The Lord’s word came to Elijah: Get up and go to Zarephath near Sidon and stay there. I have ordered a widow there to take care of you. Elijah left and went to Zarephath. As he came to the town gate, he saw a widow collecting sticks. He called out to her, “Please get a little water for me in this cup so I can drink.” She went to get some water. He then said to her, “Please get me a piece of bread.”

“As surely as the Lord your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any food; only a handful of flour in a jar and a bit of oil in a bottle. Look at me. I’m collecting two sticks so that I can make some food for myself and my son. We’ll eat the last of the food and then die.”

Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid! Go and do what you said. Only make a little loaf of bread for me first. Then bring it to me. You can make something for yourself and your son after that. This is what Israel’s God, the Lord, says: The jar of flour won’t decrease and the bottle of oil won’t run out until the day the Lord sends rain on the earth.” The widow went and did what Elijah said. So the widow, Elijah, and the widow’s household ate for many days. The jar of flour didn’t decrease nor did the bottle of oil run out, just as the Lord spoke through Elijah.  1 Kings 17:8-16 (CEB)

The wadi where Elijah was staying runs dry. 

So, God directs Elijah to Zarephath, only a short distance from Sidon, Jezebel’s hometown. He meets up with a widow - someone promised by God to help sustain him while he is on the run. This widow, who is not named in our story, is a Phoenician. A pagan. She and her son have been hit hard by the drought. When Elijah asks her to make him bread, her response is that she ingredients enough for one remaining loaf. 

But Elijah persists. So, she makes a small loaf for him first, then a second for her and her son. And then she discovers the provision of God - that God will sustain all of them through this. Providing just enough flour and just enough oil for a loaf of bread. Day after day. 

Our story continues.

After these things, the son of the widow, who was the matriarch of the household, became ill. His sickness got steadily worse until he wasn’t breathing anymore. She said to Elijah, “What’s gone wrong between us, man of God? Have you come to me to call attention to my sin and kill my son?”

Elijah replied, “Give your son to me.” He took her son from her and carried him to the upper room where he was staying. Elijah laid him on his bed. Elijah cried out to the Lord, “Lord my God, why is it that you have brought such evil upon the widow that I am staying with by killing her son?” Then he stretched himself over the boy three times and cried out to the Lord, “Lord my God, please give this boy’s life back to him.” The Lord listened to Elijah’s voice and gave the boy his life back. And he lived. Elijah brought the boy down from the upper room of the house and gave him to his mother. Elijah said, “Look, your son is alive!”

“Now I know that you really are a man of God,” the woman said to Elijah, “and that the Lord’s word is truly in your mouth.” 1 Kings 17:17-24 (CEB)

It isn’t long before things take a tragic turn for this woman. Her son gets ill and stops breathing. 

Her natural inclination is to strike out at Elijah - this stranger who has brought this on her household.

But Elijah, in a dramatic scene, cries out to God and then stretches himself out on the lifeless child. Three times. Crying out once more.

God hears him. God listens to Elijah’s voice. The child lives. It is then that his mother knows God.  

---

On this All Saints Day, I can’t help thinking of all those ancestors in faith who have gone before us. They, like Elijah, like the widow, in our story, have struggled and been challenged with many difficult experiences and hard times. Just as we are challenged in our own lives. 

Yet, as we listened to the first two stories, we witnessed that God sustained Elijah and the widow. First, God’s created beings - the ravens - cared for Elijah each day. Then, we witnessed how the widow, her son, and Elijah, living on the edge of death each day, just getting by, were provided with just enough flour. Just enough oil for one day.

When we mourn. When we are suffering. When we are living on the edge of death and despair, God provides. Just enough for us to get through each day. To have just enough to get through the next. Perhaps this is as miraculous as the miracle story at the end - that resurrection story that is a foretaste of the resurrection we anticipate when God’s kingdom through Christ comes in all its fullness. This is the hope we cling to in this moment. This was the hope that our own ancestors held onto. Trusting that the God who gave them just enough grace, day after day, will also give the grace and hope of that resurrection to come. And the dramatic restoration of life where before there was only death.

In this time, when it may often feel as though God is silent, may we, on this day and always, remember these saints. May we, like Elijah, cry out to God in our anguish. And may we trust, as all of them did, that God will climb into our hurt and our pain, our struggle and our grief, and will restore all things, inviting us into life - a life that they have already received. A life that will go on and on. Without end. Amen.

Preached November 1, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

All Saints Sunday

Readings: 1 Kings 17:1-24, Luke 4:24-26.

Our Money Story: Restore

Our reading today is from the beginning. Genesis. And in two parts, beginning first in chapter 2.

On the day the Lord God made earth and sky— before any wild plants appeared on the earth, and before any field crops grew, because the Lord God hadn’t yet sent rain on the earth and there was still no human being to farm the fertile land, though a stream rose from the earth and watered all of the fertile land— the Lord God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils. The human came to life.

The Lord God took the human and settled him in the garden of Eden to farm it and to take care of it. The Lord God commanded the human, “Eat your fill from all of the garden’s trees; but don’t eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, because on the day you eat from it, you will die!”

There are two stories of creation at the beginning of Genesis. One in chapter 1. And a second creation story in chapter 2, which we just heard a portion of. Each of these stories is different. Each of them has a very distinct story to tell. 

In chapter 1, we have this amazing story of the beginning of the world, created out of chaos by the very breath of God. Shaped, formed and filled by God’s Word. An ordered world. Crowned at the end by God’s greatest achievement - humankind. Male and female. Made in God’s own image. Genesis 1 is this great, grand story of the creation of our big, beautiful world and all that inhabits it. 

In Genesis 2, we move from this big creation story to one of intimacy and relationship. A story of the first people. And of the beginning of their relationship with God. And it all begins in the dirt.

Did you notice that detail? The first human wasn’t made from clay - that sturdy, durable soil that can be molded and shaped and is strong. No, the first human was made from dust. Topsoil.

We miss it in English, but here in the Hebrew, there’s a pun. A play on words happening. ‘Adam in Hebrew means human. It’s not a proper name. Not a gendered name. ‘Adam represents that first human being, created by God out of dust, which in Hebrew is ‘adamah. ‘Adam. ‘Adamah. The first human is created out of fine, dry particles of earth so light and so fragile that they can easily be picked up and carried by the wind. Just like our own human existence, which is also so fragile. 

Then as the story continues, God takes the human and puts him in Eden to serve it. Not to have dominion over it, but to serve. To work for it. God tells ‘adam to eat fully from the trees in the garden. Except from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The phrase “good and evil” in Hebrew is an idiom that simply means everything. This is not about right and wrong. This is about everything - about knowing everything. About omniscience. About being like God.

There is also, in Genesis 2, no distinction between human and animal life. Both are called living creatures in Hebrew. Living creatures who all come from the same place...the dust of the ground. 

After making ‘adam, God discovers that being alone for this creature is not good. Human beings need companionship, relationship, community. God takes ‘adam and out of the human makes a companion. Woman. A helper. Sometimes, in the Hebrew bible, God is referred to as a helper - as Israel’s helper. So, this woman is not subordinate. This is not a hierarchy. Adam needs Eve as companion, as partner, as fellow worker in the garden - in God’s Garden of Eden.

There is intimacy in this second chapter of Genesis. There is an intimate link between the Creator and the created.

But the story continues with chapter 3.

The snake was the most intelligent of all the wild animals that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say that you shouldn’t eat from any tree in the garden?”

The woman said to the snake, “We may eat the fruit of the garden’s trees but not the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden. God said, ‘Don’t eat from it, and don’t touch it, or you will die.’”

The snake said to the woman, “You won’t die! God knows that on the day you eat from it, you will see clearly and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” The woman saw that the tree was beautiful with delicious food and that the tree would provide wisdom, so she took some of its fruit and ate it, and also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then they both saw clearly and knew that they were naked. So they sewed fig leaves together and made garments for themselves.

During that day’s cool evening breeze, they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden; and the man and his wife hid themselves from the Lord God in the middle of the garden’s trees.

Oh, that snake. That crafty snake. 

It is here in Genesis 3 where the great central act of disobedience is introduced. In choosing to disobey God’s command, the humans radically alter their understanding of themselves and of their world. Their eyes are opened. They become self-aware.  

Previously, they were living in a world that was theo-centric. Centered around God. Now, they believe they live in a world centered around themselves. Where they can assert that they themselves are the center of value. The center of decision making. The center of knowledge. 

This knowledge of all things - this desire to be like God - results in alienation from God and from the soil - ‘adamah - to which they are so deeply connected. 

This is the story we see in Genesis 3. The human story. Our story. 

It’s a story about moving from creation to distortion. The distortion of God’s desire for us and for the world. Of a broken relationship between God and humanity. Of broken relationships between neighbors. Of a broken relationship with the dust of the ground and with all living creatures. A world of scarcity and “not enough,” as we hoard God’s abundance. Where we chase the idea of self-worth by seeking more or trying to be more. And more. And more. It is a story that has moved from creation to distortion. It is our story. Our very human story. 

But this is not God’s story. Because God’s story is not about distortion. Not about alienation. But about restoration. About restoring dignity to those disenfranchised. About restoring broken relationships with neighbors. About restoring our own lives - so that we might be centered, healthy, spirit-filled beings, caring for all living creatures and all creation. It is a story about enough. About more than enough. About abundance.

In God’s story, God continuously works to move us from distortion. To restoration. From death. To life. That we might be reconciled with God, with one another, with all creation. 

As we move throughout this lectionary year, we will see over and over and over again, our God, revealed in the story. A God of promise. A God of relationship. A God of mercy. And a God of new life. A God who comes near to us in Jesus, the great restorer - the great reconciler - of the world. And a God who sends us into the world with this good news of restoration.

Why does God do this? In one word. Love. You and I, sisters and brothers, we are God’s creation with whom God desires to be in intimate relationship. You and I - we belong to God. You and I - we are created by God. You and I - we are God’s beloved. Amen.

Preached September 13, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 15/Rally Day

Readings: Gen. 2: 4b-7, 15-17; 3:1-8; Luke 11:2-4; Psalm 8

The Power of God's Love: Death, the Last Enemy

Now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you—unless you have come to believe in vain.

For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe.

Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ—whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised. If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:

“Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

“Where, O death, is your victory?

    Where, O death, is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:1-26; 15:51-57 (NRSV)

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

I’ve mentioned before that, when I lived in California, I lived and worked in downtown Los Angeles for several years. Beginning in 1999 and continuing for three years, I would drive to work and pass by the construction site of what would become the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. During that time I watched it grow into a huge, kind of monstrous, 11-story, contemporary cathedral. 

To be honest, the exterior design wasn’t appealing. But the interior was breathtaking - in its simplicity and spirituality. One truly seemed to sense God’s presence in that space.

One aspect of the interior that I particularly love is a series of tapestries that surround the sides and back of the worship space - tapestries designed by artist John Nava. Most prominent are those along the south and north walls. Twenty-five fresco-like tapestries that depict 135 saints and blessed ones from around the world. People like Pope John the 23rd and Mother Teresa, from the 19th and 20th centuries. Or Ignatius Loyola, sainted in the 17th century. But, perhaps the most special figures in these beautiful tapestries are twelve figures that are untitled, including children. That represent the many anonymous holy people in our midst. In this space, one feels surrounded by the communion of saints. 

Now you might wonder why I’m talking about this cathedral and these tapestries, and particularly, the communion of saints. After all, this isn’t All Saints Sunday. It’s not the end of the church year. Yet, it is this communion of saints that Paul refers to in these opening verses of chapter 15, which we just heard. Those from whom the members of the Corinthian congregation have received their tradition of faith. In addressing the dispute over the veracity of the resurrection and the dispute over whether the resurrection of the dead will happen in the last days, Paul begins with a reminder to the church in Corinth. That he has passed a tradition of faith onto them, challenging them to hold on firmly to the message he first proclaimed to them. And that message? That Christ died for their sins and his. That Christ was buried. That he was raised from the dead on the third day. That he appeared to Cephas or Peter, and then to the twelve. And then to more than five hundred brothers and sisters. Then to James, Jesus’ earthly brother. And then to all of the apostles. This roll call of the earliest of the saints. Paul uses it to help them understand that this tradition - this eyewitness testimony to the resurrection - has passed from believer to believer to believer. And then to them. And that Christ’s resurrection from the dead can only be true.

But Paul does not stop there. He argues that, if it is true that Christ has been raised from the dead, then it is also true that the Corinthian believers will also be raised from the dead. If this is not true, then their faith has been in vain. Futile. Pitiful. Useless. Without hope. 

But, in fact, Christ has been raised from the dead. And he is the first of what will be many in the last days, when Christ comes a second time. After the kingdom of God, which he has initiated on earth, comes into its fullness. And when all the dead will be raised in bodily form. 

What did this mean for them? What does this mean for us? 

Perhaps Luther says it best: To [Paul] the resurrection is like putting on a beautiful new garment called...immortality. It is [a garment] spun and woven by Christ’s victory. For the victory of Christ [over death] was wrought for the purpose of clothing you with it and of cleansing you from your sin and death, so that nothing of your corruptible body remains…For God did not create man that he should sin and die, but that he should live...This [life] is not brought about in any other way than that we first shed this old, evil garment through death. We must be divested of it entirely, and it must turn into death. (LW 28, p. 2020)

With death we shed our old body, our old garment. This garment that carries with it our misfortunes and frailties. Our error and folly. The evil that we experience on earth. This old garment turns to dust. 

And at the end of days, this new time, this beginning of the new creation will happen when God will raise all the dead and will demonstrate God’s power over the power of death first witnessed in Christ’s resurrection. We will put on our new bodily garment.

It is in that first resurrection, though, that the future of this new world of life has already begun. We, believing in this risen Christ, trusting this tradition of the faith that has been passed onto us over and over throughout the centuries - we live in this in-between time. This time between a world of death and a new world. Of life. This time between - where God in Christ through the Holy Spirit continues to work to bring about new life. New life that is already in our midst, because the future has begun. 

This is the hope that we hold onto as believers in this faith that has been passed onto us through the communion of saints. This is the hope we hold onto as believers in Christ’s resurrection in the midst of this pandemic. This is the hope we hold onto in this time in-between, as we wait to shed our old worn bodily garment and put on our new one - our incorruptible one given to us and to the communion of all the saints. This is what we believe. This is what we hope. This is what we know. 

Or, as Luther writes: Now we say, Scriptum est, but then we shall say, Factum est.

Death has been swallowed up. New life begins. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Preached online May 24, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Easter 7

Readings: 1 Corinthians 15:1-26, 51-57; Mark 12:26-27a; Psalm 1

Ruth--A Story for Our Time: New Life

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

Before I move into today’s Gospel lesson, I thought it might be helpful for us to have a little review. We’ve been in the book of Ruth for four weeks. Today, will be our last in the series that we’ve called, “Ruth--A Story for Our Time.”

So, do any of you remember back to that first week of this series? What was happening in the story? It was a chaotic time--when the judges ruled. A time when “each person did what they thought was right.” (Judges 21.25) There was a famine. Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, moved from Bethlehem to Moab because of famine. They were strangers in a new land, trying to adapt, trying to fit in. While there they had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion. 

What happened while they were in Moab? Elimelech died unexpectedly. Then, after Mahlon and Chilion were married, they, too, died unexpectedly. With no children, no heirs, to pass on their line. This left Naomi and Ruth and Orpah all by themselves. Widows. Childless. Vulnerable. Naomi decided to move back to her ancestral home. Ruth, even though she was a Moabite and would be a foreigner in Israel, chose to move with Naomi. 

Do you recall the last words of Naomi in the first chapter? “Don’t call me Naomi, but call me Mara, for the Almighty has made me very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has returned me empty.” Even with Ruth, this brave and courageous daughter-in-law standing at her side, Naomi still called herself bitter. And empty.

Over the next couple of chapters, we saw Ruth at work, didn’t we? Needing to find a way to ensure, not only her security, but also that of her mother-in-law. So, she began to glean in the fields of a man named...Do any of you remember his name?...of a man named Boaz. Who, as it turned out, was kin--family--to Naomi. He was a relative of Naomi’s deceased husband, Elimelech. We saw the generosity of Boaz to Ruth--a woman who was not only a widow and childless, which would have put her on the fringes of the community there. But, also an immigrant, which would have made her triply vulnerable. 

And, then, last week, Ruth, knowing she needed to ensure greater security for herself and for Naomi...engaging in a scandalous act. A seduction really. Something that would have been completely inappropriate for any woman of her time, much less for an immigrant woman. A counter-cultural act. Proposing marriage to Boaz. Challenging him to fulfill his obligation to her and to Naomi to be their kinsman-redeemer. Their go-el. This tradition--in fact, this command from God--that required the next closest male kin to marry the widow, to ensure her safety and security and her future.

So, Boaz agrees. Except there is one little complication. Boaz is not quite the next-of-kin. He is the next next-of-kin. So, under the law, he is required to take this situation to Naomi’s next-of-kin. This is where our story picks up this morning.

We read from Ruth, chapter 4, from the Common English Bible translation:

Meanwhile, Boaz went up to the gate and sat down there. Just then, the redeemer about whom Boaz had spoken was passing by. He said, “Sir, come over here and sit down.” So he turned aside and sat down. Then he took ten men from the town’s elders and said, “Sit down here.” And they sat down.

Boaz said to the redeemer, “Naomi, who has returned from the field of Moab, is selling the portion of the field that belonged to our brother Elimelech. I thought that I should let you know and say, ‘Buy it, in the presence of those sitting here and in the presence of the elders of my people.’ If you will redeem it, redeem it; but if you won’t redeem it, tell me so that I may know. There isn’t anyone to redeem it except you, and I’m next in line after you.”

He replied, “I will redeem it.”

Then Boaz said, “On the day when you buy the field from Naomi, you also buy Ruth the Moabite, the wife of the dead man, in order to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance.”

But the redeemer replied, “Then I can’t redeem it for myself, without risking damage to my own inheritance. Redeem it for yourself. You can have my right of redemption, because I’m unable to act as redeemer.”

In Israel, in former times, this was the practice regarding redemption and exchange to confirm any such matter: a man would take off his sandal and give it to the other person. This was the process of making a transaction binding in Israel. Then the redeemer said to Boaz, “Buy it for yourself,” and he took off his sandal.

Boaz announced to the elders and all the people, “Today you are witnesses that I’ve bought from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and Mahlon. And also Ruth the Moabite, the wife of Mahlon, I’ve bought to be my wife, to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance so that the name of the dead man might not be cut off from his brothers or from the gate of his hometown—today you are witnesses.”

Then all the people who were at the gate and the elders said, “We are witnesses. May the Lord grant that the woman who is coming into your household be like Rachel and like Leah, both of whom built up the house of Israel. May you be fertile in Ephrathah and may you preserve a name in Bethlehem. And may your household be like the household of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah—through the children that the Lord will give you from this young woman.”

So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife.

He was intimate with her, the Lord let her become pregnant, and she gave birth to a son. The women said to Naomi, “May the Lord be blessed, who today hasn’t left you without a redeemer. May his name be proclaimed in Israel. He will restore your life and sustain you in your old age. Your daughter-in-law who loves you has given birth to him. She’s better for you than seven sons.” Naomi took the child and held him to her breast, and she became his guardian. The neighborhood women gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They called his name Obed. He became Jesse’s father and David’s grandfather.

These are the generations of Perez: Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, Boaz the father of Obed, Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David.

It’s kind of funny, the beginning of today’s episode. Here we have two men, two relatives to Naomi. Boaz. And the other, unnamed. In fact, in the Hebrew, he’s called “so-and-so.” “Hey, so-and-so!” Boaz calls him at the beginning of our story. “Hey, so-and-so, I have something I need to talk to you about. But, I need to do it in front of ten elders--a quorum--because I need to ensure that it is a legal transaction.” 

And, so they engage in conversation. Negotiation, really. Just as we have seen so many of these conversations throughout these chapters of Ruth. Conversations in which things are worked out. Issues are resolved. Problems are solved. Conversations that happen like this not only in Ruth, but throughout all of Scripture. People talking to each other. Trying to work things out. And God, often hidden, but still present, at work.

Once this unnamed relative of Naomi's hears that there’s property available, he’s all ears. But, then, when he finds out there is a woman attached to the deal--an immigrant woman, in fact--he walks away. One has to wonder why? Maybe he already had too many wives? Or, more likely, it was because Ruth was a foreigner. An immigrant. After all, in all of the conversation she is called Ruth the Moabite. It’s almost her scarlet letter, isn’t it?

But “so-and-so’s” loss is Boaz’s gain! Because for him, the land isn’t as important as the woman. A woman whom he has seen and named as a woman of worth. So, Boaz and Ruth are married. And, then, our story reads, “God let her become pregnant.” They had a son. They’re firstborn son. Whom they named, Obed. 

If we go back throughout this story of Ruth and the conversations that happened, do you wonder what the characters were feeling as they were taking place? What was Naomi thinking as she told both Ruth and Orpah to stay in Moab? Was she anxious about how people in her homeland might respond to her daughters-in-law? Her foreign daughters-in-law?

Or what about Ruth when she made her marriage proposal to Boaz? One has to wonder--knowing how completely countercultural her proposal was--whether she felt anxious? What if he had said no? What if he had dismissed her because she was an immigrant? A foreigner?  

And, then, what of this conversation today, between Boaz and “so-and-so?” How anxious was Boaz feeling, going into this negotiation? Not knowing how it might end up. But hoping, against all hope, that he would walk away and be able to marry Ruth. 

How many conversations do you enter into that you are anxious about? A little nervous? Not knowing what will happen. Whether the conversation might go wrong and make things worse. Or if it might go well. Or somewhere in between. 

I have to confess to you that, this past Wednesday evening, as Pastor Lisa and I were preparing for our Sacred Conversation--our deliberative dialogue--around this very difficult topic of immigration, I was anxious. And nervous. Not knowing what would happen. Whether it would go well. Or not so well. Whether people would even show up. Even want to try to engage around a hot topic. Maybe, if you attended, you felt the same way. 

As the evening progressed, though--as we between to talk to each other, to listen and to be open to learning new things, I have to say that I began to feel hopeful. That, perhaps, we could do this. That, through our conversation, a new way might appear. That we might find begin to find agreement on things. And to honestly admit the places of tension, of disagreement, yet with some sense of resolve or hope that, even in these places, we might be able to come together. 

By the end of the evening, that hope had turned into something more like joy. As I listened to people laugh and joke with each other, knowing that they might be in different places politically, there was joy in the knowledge that were still sisters and brothers in Christ and that God had been at work in our conversation.  Bringing hope and joy out of anxiety. Bringing new, collaborative possibilities out of old, divisive ways. Bringing fullness out of emptiness. Bringing life out of death. 

Because isn’t that God’s way? Isn’t that God’s hesed? You know that word don’t you--a word meaning steadfast love and faithfulness? Even better, love-in-action. God’s love-in-action. A hesed that reached its fullest for us at the cross. God’s fullest love-in-action. Scandalous. Counter-cultural. Life-giving for us. And bring us fullness out of emptiness. 

And, that, my friends, is what this story of Ruth has been all about. God’s hesed. How God has worked behind the scenes and through the conversations in this story to bring, especially for Naomi, fullness out of her emptiness. Hope out of loss. Joy out of bitterness. New life out of death. A grandson, who will be in the ancestral line of the King of Kings--our Savior, Jesus Christ. 

This is a story for our time. It is a way of being together for our time. It is God’s way. A way of love-in-action. 

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church and Shiloh United Methodist Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 12
Readings: Ruth 4:1-22 (Luke 1:46-55)

Good News in the Garden

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.  John 20:1-18 (NRSV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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