ReMember: God Remembers

The Lord saw that humanity had become thoroughly evil on the earth and that every idea their minds thought up was always completely evil. The Lord regretted making human beings on the earth, and he was heartbroken. So the Lord said, “I will wipe off of the land the human race that I’ve created: from human beings to livestock to the crawling things to the birds in the skies, because I regret I ever made them.” But as for Noah, the Lord approved of him.

These are Noah’s descendants. In his generation, Noah was a moral and exemplary man; he walked with God. Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. In God’s sight, the earth had become corrupt and was filled with violence. God saw that the earth was corrupt, because all creatures behaved corruptly on the earth.

God said to Noah, “The end has come for all creatures, since they have filled the earth with violence. I am now about to destroy them along with the earth, so make a wooden ark. Make the ark with nesting places and cover it inside and out with tar. This is how you should make it: four hundred fifty feet long, seventy-five feet wide, and forty-five feet high. Make a roof for the ark and complete it one foot from the top. Put a door in its side. In the hold below, make the second and third decks.

“I am now bringing the floodwaters over the earth to destroy everything under the sky that breathes. Everything on earth is about to take its last breath. But I will set up my covenant with you. You will go into the ark together with your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives. From all living things—from all creatures—you are to bring a pair, male and female, into the ark with you to keep them alive. From each kind of bird, from each kind of livestock, and from each kind of everything that crawls on the ground—a pair from each will go in with you to stay alive. Take some from every kind of food and stow it as food for you and for the animals.”

Noah did everything exactly as God commanded him.

After forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark that he had made. He sent out a raven, and it flew back and forth until the waters over the entire earth had dried up. Then he sent out a dove to see if the waters on all of the fertile land had subsided, but the dove found no place to set its foot. It returned to him in the ark since waters still covered the entire earth. Noah stretched out his hand, took it, and brought it back into the ark. He waited seven more days and sent the dove out from the ark again. The dove came back to him in the evening, grasping a torn olive leaf in its beak. Then Noah knew that the waters were subsiding from the earth. He waited seven more days and sent out the dove, but it didn’t come back to him again.

God said to Noah and to his sons with him, “I am now setting up my covenant with you, with your descendants, and with every living being with you—with the birds, with the large animals, and with all the animals of the earth, leaving the ark with you. I will set up my covenant with you so that never again will all life be cut off by floodwaters. There will never again be a flood to destroy the earth.”

God said, “This is the symbol of the covenant that I am drawing up between me and you and every living thing with you, on behalf of every future generation. I have placed my bow in the clouds; it will be the symbol of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow appears in the clouds, I will remember the covenant between me and you and every living being among all the creatures. Floodwaters will never again destroy all creatures. The bow will be in the clouds, and upon seeing it I will remember the enduring covenant between God and every living being of all the earth’s creatures.” God said to Noah, “This is the symbol of the covenant that I have set up between me and all creatures on earth.” --Genesis 6:5-22, 8:6-12, 9:8-17 (CEB)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God, our Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.

Holy moly! Isn’t it a little crazy that so many people - some of us likely included - have decided that the events of Noah and the flood are appropriate with which to decorate nurseries. Seriously. This story is terrifying.

Welcome to the beginning of the lectionary year. In the Narrative Lectionary, it is customary that on the first Sunday of the lectionary year, we hear a story from what is called the primordial history. This primordial (or primeval) history consists of the first eleven chapters of Genesis. These are the mythic stories of faith - stories that speak to us in universal truths. They describe not only how things came to be for us as people of faith, but why things are the way they are. 

Usually, we begin with one of the two creation stories in Genesis 1 or 2. But, once every four years, we hear this story. Of God. Of God’s regret. And, then, of Noah and the flood. In some respects it’s a story of creation. But, really, it's more a story of un-creating than it is creating. Do you notice, especially, when we hear the language describing the creatures as they are loaded onto Noah’s ark - the language and its cadence - that it sounds remarkably similar to many of the lines of Genesis 1? This account of God un-creating the world borrows and echoes words and phrases from the first story. Even the sequence moves backwards from humanity, to land animals, to birds, then to food plants.

But, before we get too far into the story, I want to back up to the very beginning. In its opening lines, we hear the depth of God’s emotion. The heartbreak. And, perhaps most troubling, the regret that God felt at having created humanity. God is grieved “to the heart” and twice “sorry” about having spoken creation into being in the first place. God intended a world that behaved and believed very differently from the one that developed. That God was facing in this story. Perhaps, even, the one that God is facing in our world today.

I don’t know about you, but, as a parent, I get it. There were many times when I just wanted to walk away. Tired and exhausted and dealing with one more challenge with my son, I understand, even in some very minute way, how God was feeling. 

It was an evil place, this time of Noah. Wickedness abounds, both in the imagination of the heart and also in societies these humans have created. God is ready to call it quits. One Jewish theologian to whom I frequently listen put it this way. “Have you ever started a project with all excitement and energy, but then come to a realization that things are a mess. That this is not going to work. And that it's time to just shut it down." That’s where God is, she suggests. Ready to “blot out” every living thing from the face of the earth. The Hebrew word meaning to “rub away” as one might rub ink off old parchment. To un-remember. And simply forget it ever happened. Some theologians have suggested that God’s uncreating in this story is less a kid kicking his sandcastle apart at the beach and more a simple turning away. And without God’s sustaining and creative presence, things fall apart. 

But. That’s how chapter 8 begins. It’s in the word “but” where we hear the good news. “But God remembered Noah and all of the beasts and cattle that were with him in the ark.” God can’t quite go all the way, apparently. As God responded to the disobedience of Eve and Adam in the story in Eden and as we will see time after time in the stories that follow, God’s deadly wrath is overcome by our Creator’s more powerful inclination toward salvation. At the heart of this story, setting every challenging aspect aside for just a moment, is a God who, no matter how grieved and angry, is in love with the universe and its creatures, particularly those of us of the two-legged variety who somehow share that same mysterious image of God.

We’re reminded of this in the words of Isaiah 49, “Can a woman forget her nursing baby, that she should have no compassion on the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.”

God remembers that last good remaining speck of creation and turns again toward it. Notice the movement of God from distant to intimate. From the broader view of humanity to Noah. God sees Noah and moves toward him. To a personal relationship with him.  To save him. God’s remembering of Noah leads to God’s salvation of Noah. And a promise - a covenant - to Noah to never again abandon creation to chaos, but to stay in relationship. To stay in the sustaining relationship with creation that makes life possible. A promise marked by a sign. A rainbow. Not so much to help us remember, but to help God remember. 

It is here, in this primordial story, in this teachable moment for God, that God opts in for the sacrificial, messier, more inefficient, more vulnerable route of real relationship. With Noah. And with you. And with me. And God promises, in Christ, to remember us. Forever and ever.

Amen.

Preached September 11, 2022, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect/Goshen, KY, with Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY.

14th Sunday after Pentecost

Reading: Genesis 6:5-22, 8:6-12, 9:8-17

Presence and Promise: Conquering by Sacrifice

For sixteen chapters in Revelation, we read what is commonly known as the vision cycles. We heard one of these visions last week - that of the four horsemen. Throughout these visions, gruesome and frightening as they may be, the salvation community continues to praise God. We heard this last week in chapter 7 - that those who have “washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” continue to “worship God day and night.” There is also the promise that cosmic calamities, or the forces of evil at work in the world, or the final destruction at the end of time will overwhelm those who identity and security are found within  nor the final destruction at the end of time will overwhelm those whose identity and security are found in God and the Lamb.

Today, we hear of another vision. This time of the two beasts. Our reading today is from Revelation, chapter 13. I’m picking up at the very end of chapter 12.

Then the dragon stood on the seashore, and I saw a beast coming up out of the sea. It had ten horns and seven heads. Each of its horns was decorated with a royal crown, and on its heads were blasphemous names. The beast I saw was like a leopard. Its feet were like a bear’s, and its mouth was like a lion’s mouth. The dragon gave it his power, throne, and great authority. One of its heads appeared to have been slain and killed, but its deadly wound was healed. So the whole earth was amazed and followed the beast. They worshipped the dragon because it had given the beast its authority. They worshipped the beast and said, “Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?”

The beast was given a mouth that spoke boastful and blasphemous things, and it was given authority to act for forty-two months. It opened its mouth to speak blasphemies against God. It blasphemed God’s name and his dwelling place (that is, those who dwell in heaven).

It was also allowed to make war on the saints and to gain victory over them. It was given authority over every tribe, people, language, and nation. All who live on earth worshipped it, all whose names hadn’t been written—from the time the earth was made—in the scroll of life of the Lamb who was slain. Whoever has ears must listen: If any are to be taken captive, then into captivity they will go. If any are to be killed by the sword, then by the sword they will be killed. This calls for endurance and faithfulness on the part of the saints.

Then I saw another beast coming up from the earth. It had two horns like a lamb, but it was speaking like a dragon. It exercises all the authority of the first beast in its presence. It also makes the earth and those who live in it worship the first beast, whose fatal wound was healed. It does great signs so that it even makes fire come down from heaven to earth in the presence of the people. It deceives those who live on earth by the signs that it was allowed to do in the presence of the beast. It told those who live on earth to make an image for the beast who had been wounded by the sword and yet came to life again. It was allowed to give breath to the beast’s image so that the beast’s image would even speak and cause anyone who didn’t worship the beast’s image to be put to death. It forces everyone—the small and great, the rich and poor, the free and slaves—to have a mark put on their right hand or on their forehead. It will not allow anyone to make a purchase or sell anything unless the person has the mark with the beast’s name or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom. Let the one who understands calculate the beast’s number, for it’s a human being’s number. Its number is six hundred sixty-six. --Rev. 13:1-18 (CEB)

Throughout history images of animals have often been used as symbols to send different messages or to represent certain things.

Dogs in art, as one example, have not always been considered man’s best friend. From the earliest times up to the Renaissance, their qualities were mixed - from vigilance and faithfulness and wisdom, to anger, lechery, and greed. Titian used the idea of a dog as treacherous for this scene in the Last Supper, as he paired Judas with a dog to symbolize the disciple’s betrayal of Jesus.

 

The rabbit, as another example, has a long-standing symbolism for - no surprise - lust. However, because of the rabbit’s ability to reproduce often, there was also a myth that they could procreate without a partner. This led to another interpretation - that the animal signified the virgin birth and chastity as shown in another 16th century painting by Titian, entitled Madonna with Rabbit.

The peacock is one more example. Here in this painting called The Adoration of the Magi, by Fra Angelica and Fra Filippo Lippi, it represents immortality.

We use animal symbolism today, too. If I were to put up an image of a bear and a bull, what immediately comes to mind? They are symbols of the stock market. And what about these two images - an elephant and a donkey? Both are used in political cartoons, representing each of the political parties.

This is what is happening in today’s reading. We find the beast from the sea and his associate online represent a political authority that has become as destructive as a beast. The monster has been set up as the ultimate authority - a power that is to be worshiped above all else. For the author, this beast represents the Roman empire. But it is symbolic of any human institution that sets itself over and above God, at any point in history. And it describes conditions that we, too, know to be true about our world. 

One characteristic of the image is that one of the beasts gives power and authority to another more powerful and frightening. The nature of this evil - or Satan, personified in our today’s reading as a dragon - is that it goes against the desire of Jesus to free all people from tyranny.

Another characteristic of the beast is that the whole earth follows it. Because the gathering of numbers is essential and people are far too often swayed by the movement of a crowd or community. And, for evil, a movement desires to divide or to set people against each other in order to gain or preserve power and authority is a way that is contrary to the love of God and of God’s will to unite people through love and shared sacrifice. 

One more characteristic of the beast is that it mounts a full-scale assault on the agents of God. The evil here is that it is not enough to mislead followers, but evil must also discredit, incapacitate or even kill those who strive for good. 

Evil works covertly and surreptitiously to undermine the work and the power of God. In chapter 13, the author of Revelation portrays the Roman political system in this way to ask people about their highest loyalties. When we listen to the news, which in this past week seems so challenging and frustrating and disheartening, do we believe that this destructive system has become invincible? That evil has won out? That’s what the people in this chapter of Revelation are thinking.

But that is not what the Revelation sees. It sees that the beast is the opposite of the Lamb, who gives us our true identity. It sees that the beast conquers by tyranny, but that the Lamb conquers by the sacrifice that frees. It sees that the mark of the beast is the opposite of the seal of God and of the Lamb.

All of these images challenge us to ask to whom we truly belong: do we belong to the forces that destroy? Or do we belong to the Lamb who saves and liberates?

May we, through the power of the Holy Spirit, be and live as those who have been washed and freed in the blood of the Lamb, to worship God day and night. Amen.  

Preached August 29, 2021, online with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

14th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Revelation 13:1-18, John 12:30-32

Who We Are: Treasures in Clay Jars

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

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about baptism. Perhaps, in part, because of the vast quantities of water we’ve received in rain over the past few days. Or, perhaps, it is because of all that we’ve seen and heard over these past few days about Congressman John Lewis and heard how he lived his life, with such integrity and humility, in much the same way we are called to live out our own baptismal promises.

Whatever has triggered it, I’ve been thinking about baptism. So, it led to me turning to the order that we use for baptism in our church. There are five parts to it. And I invite you to take a look at it more closely sometime. Within it, there’s a part called the Profession of Faith, or sometimes it’s called the Renunciation. Perhaps you remember it - it comes before the actual act of baptizing someone and is a series of questions asked of parents or sponsors or, in the case of an adult baptism, of the one being baptized. These are questions that come to us from the earliest centuries of the church. 

Do you renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God?

Do you renounce the powers of this world that rebel against God?

Do you renounce the ways of sin that draw you from God?

The answer to each of these questions in our own baptisms was likely the phrase, “I renounce them,” or something similar. But, that’s really easier said than done, isn’t it? Throughout our lives I dare say we feel the push and pull of these forces. Forces of evil and those that defy God. The powers of the world that rebel against God and seek to draw us from God. The sins we commit that bring us shame and can separate us from God. Yes, living into our baptismal promises is so much easier said than done.

It’s really the same challenge that the church in Corinth was dealing with. In fact, in the first part of our reading today, it seems that Paul makes reference to these very things the Corinth believers had also renounced. As in our baptisms. They, too, are experiencing the pull on the church from all sides. They are on the verge of being divided by many different factions, both internal and external. This is a new, fledgling church trying to find its way and not doing well. 

And so, as we’ve heard before, Paul has had to correct them, sometimes harshly. Yet, he knows that what they need now is not more correction and teaching. Instead, what they need now are words of comfort. And of hope. Words to help heal the wounds and guide them forward, against the pull of these forces of evil and the world and sin. Words that may feel especially written for us, too, in this time. Words to guide us. To give comfort and give hope. To heal our wounds and help us go forward. 

Which brings us to our reading today, from chapter 4 in Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians.

Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

But just as we have the same spirit of faith that is in accordance with scripture—“I believed, and so I spoke”—we also believe, and so we speak, because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and will bring us with you into his presence. Yes, everything is for your sake, so that grace, as it extends to more and more people, may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. --2 Corinthians 4:1-18 (NRSV)

Paul begins by reminding the church in Corinth - and us - how both of us got here. Solely by God’s mercy. It is nothing we have done, but what God has done. And Paul reminds the Corinthians and us that God is our foundation. Our center. Around whom our lives revolve.

Then, Paul continues on to make five important points. Creedal points almost - that serve as the basis for the lives and ministry of the Corinth church. And for ours, too.

First, Paul reminds us that our ministry is to be done out in the open. Transparently. Anytime we are fighting the powers that be, they will be on the watch for anything that can be used to tear us down. So, we are to be open and honest in the work. To be transparent in everything we do because it’s about integrity.

Then, Paul reminds us that everything we do should point to Christ. It’s so easy for us to want to be in the spotlight - in the center - of things. It’s natural. And human. But it’s not the way of Christ. And if we fall to this temptation, it has the potential to risk everything. 

Third, Paul writes that we are not impervious to pain. We are human. Made of mortal materials like that fragile clay jar. And, while we may want to hear only the positives here - that we are “not crushed, ...not driven to despair, ...not forsaken, ...not destroyed,” we cannot ignore the reality that in doing this work we will be “afflicted, ...perplexed, ...persecuted, ...and struck down.” I FaceTimed this week with one of our members who has been in lockdown in a nursing home since March. We mourned together the isolation she was feeling in this time. To acknowledge this to recognize our mortality. And our pain. Yet, Paul writes that this pain will not have the last word. Neither will death have the last word. Life - God - will.

Then, Paul writes that our faith is not silent, as he quotes from Psalm 116, these words: We believe and, therefore, we speak. When we see works in our world that are opposed to the way of Christ, our faith calls us not to be silent. But to speak out. To challenge the forces of evil at work in our world.

Finally, Paul’s last point is that while the fruit of our labor may be hidden, it is there. It can be easy to fall into despair when we don’t see the immediate fruit of our work. When we don’t see the world immediately changing. When it seems as though there is no improvement. We may begin to wonder if everything we do or have done is in vain. This is where point number two is important. Paul writes to help us remember that we are in this work and in this ministry as God’s people for the long haul. To trust in the work of the Holy Spirit. It may take a long time to sprout. So long, in fact, that we may not live to see it.  But, as Paul writes at the end of the chapter - in the same way he began it..."We do not lose heart." 

So, do not lose heart, dear friends, dear people of God. Even in the midst of all the troubles we are experiencing know that similar troubles and challenges have been experienced by believers and the church before. And know that, just as God promised life in Christ through Paul to the early church, God continues to promise life, through Christ, for us. And life is what will come. May we hold fast to this promise. In this time. Amen. 

Preached August 2, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

9th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: 2 Corinthians 4:1-18; Matthew 5:13-16

God's Triumph: The Church at Home - Fear

As Jesus left the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Teacher, look! What awesome stones and buildings!”

Jesus responded, “Do you see these enormous buildings? Not even one stone will be left upon another. All will be demolished.”

Jesus was sitting on the Mount of Olives across from the temple. Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will these things happen? What sign will show that all these things are about to come to an end?”

Jesus said, “Watch out that no one deceives you. Many people will come in my name, saying, ‘I’m the one!’ They will deceive many people. When you hear of wars and reports of wars, don’t be alarmed. These things must happen, but this isn’t the end yet. Nations and kingdoms will fight against each other, and there will be earthquakes and famines in all sorts of places. These things are just the beginning of the sufferings associated with the end.

“In those days, after the suffering of that time, the sun will become dark, and the moon won’t give its light. The stars will fall from the sky, and the planets and other heavenly bodies will be shaken. Then they will see the Human One coming in the clouds with great power and splendor. Then he will send the angels and gather together his chosen people from the four corners of the earth, from the end of the earth to the end of heaven.

“Learn this parable from the fig tree. After its branch becomes tender and it sprouts new leaves, you know that summer is near. In the same way, when you see these things happening, you know that he’s near, at the door. I assure you that this generation won’t pass away until all these things happen. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will certainly not pass away.

“But nobody knows when that day or hour will come, not the angels in heaven and not the Son. Only the Father knows. Watch out! Stay alert! You don’t know when the time is coming. It is as if someone took a trip, left the household behind, and put the servants in charge, giving each one a job to do, and told the doorkeeper to stay alert. Therefore, stay alert! You don’t know when the head of the household will come, whether in the evening or at midnight, or when the rooster crows in the early morning or at daybreak. Don’t let him show up when you weren’t expecting and find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to all: Stay alert!” --Mark 13:1-8, 24-37 (CEB)

When I first looked at our lectionary reading assigned for this Sunday, my initial reaction was, "Really?" This was last fall, as I was looking over all of our readings for this lectionary year. This week, as we are gripped by fear and panic in what might seem like the end of the world, my reaction is even stronger. If I react this way, even after having studied the book of Revelation, I imagine that you might feel similar. So, how do we approach this Sunday's text?

Avoidance. Mostly, avoiding things may not be a good thing to do because, eventually it seems, whatever we avoid has a habit of "rearing its ugly head later on." But, in this case, especially if you have children, avoiding this text and focusing on something else to read may be a good choice. Our readings this week can be scary for young disciples and even a little confusing. Perhaps focus on 1 John 4:7-21 and 5:1-5, or even some of the more beautiful parts of Revelation, especially chapters 21 and 22:1-5.

Engagement. If you are older, I encourage you to confront this head-on. But, read it with a few things in mind:

• At the beginning, apocalypse didn't mean the end of the world. It meant "revelation" and it was a peek behind the curtain of reality of what God's up to. The main points? God is in charge. Evil/suffering exists. God will triumph.
• These passages were written to people who were suffering. The good news: God is in charge and will triumph. Suffering is temporary.
• These passages were also written to people who didn't care about loving God and loving others (Remember last week's story?) The message: God cares, so live in love.
• Bad things have already happened. The temple was destroyed by the Romans in the year 70 CE. The people were scattered. We often look at prophecies in the Bible having at least two fulfillments - a past and a future. These warnings in Mark 13 happened a long time ago. But, as we've been experiencing these past few weeks, bad things still happen. Yet, Jesus has promised to return in the future and get rid of suffering, once and for all.

Faith, not Fear. So, what are you afraid of? What are the other members of your family or group afraid of?

Today, we reflect on this topic of "fear" with John Moel, as we hear his story, and think together about how, even in the midst of our fear, we might move deeper into faith, believing in a God who is in charge and who will triumph. That's simple, yet still difficult. Even with that knowledge, we might still be scared. But, that's okay. Because God loves us no matter what.

So, let's just keep loving, praying, and holding on. Together.

Preached March 29, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Lent 5
Readings: Mark 13:1-8, 24-37; Isaiah 13:9-11, Psalm 102:12-17

The Power of the Kingdom: What Makes Us Unclean

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

We’re going to continue our discussion around rules. Sometimes it's easy for us to know the rules. And sometimes, even depending on our context, it can be difficult for us to know the rules. Sometimes we may know the rule, but we may be confused by it. Sometimes, there are unspoken rules - those rules that “everybody knows” and that we assume people will follow. Some of these rules, in particular, are common in church.

So, our story today is about rules. And about what is really important. On the surface, it may seem about keeping rules that were Jewish versus Christian. Yet, we need to remember that Jesus was Jewish, so he would have observed the various Jewish laws. That’s not really what this story is about. Let’s listen to it and see if we can figure out what Jesus is really saying. I invite you to follow along in the pew Bible.

Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.) So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” He said to them, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,

‘This people honors me with their lips,

    but their hearts are far from me;

in vain do they worship me,

    teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

Then he said to them, “You have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your tradition! For Moses said, ‘Honor your father and your mother’; and, ‘Whoever speaks evil of father or mother must surely die.’ But you say that if anyone tells father or mother, ‘Whatever support you might have had from me is Corban’ (that is, an offering to God)— then you no longer permit doing anything for a father or mother, thus making void the word of God through your tradition that you have handed on. And you do many things like this.”

Then he called the crowd again and said to them, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.”

When he had left the crowd and entered the house, his disciples asked him about the parable. He said to them, “Then do you also fail to understand? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters, not the heart but the stomach, and goes out into the sewer?” (Thus he declared all foods clean.) And he said, “It is what comes out of a person that defiles. For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”  --Mark 7:1-23 (NRSV)

The story opens with the appearance of the Pharisees and some scribes who have come into the countryside from Jerusalem to see Jesus. We often have a pretty bad attitude towards the Pharisees, don’t we? That their intent is always to trip up Jesus, to challenge him. This is the way they are presented in some of the other gospels. But, here, in Mark, it’s a little different. If you notice the text carefully, there is nothing that is written about their intent. In fact, it would have been customary and usual for them to come and ask questions. Jesus was viewed as a rabbi, a teacher with followers who was responsible for his disciples. So, assuming that Jesus, as a rabbi, was responsible for his disciples, the Pharisees would have come to Jesus to ask him about the behavior of his followers. There is nothing here to show a devious intent on their part.

Note the parenthetical portion in verses 3 and 4. “For the Pharisees...do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders…” This phrase - the “tradition of the elders” - was a reference to all of the interpretations, the rules, and the procedures that had grown up around the written law, or the Torah. The traditions of the elders were oral commentary on this written law, applying it to real life situations. You might say that the traditions of the elders were like the sermons of our day. Verbal commentary on the written law. 

The Pharisees were actually viewed as the “good guys” of Judaism of their day because they wanted to help people live out the written law. We think of them as “bad” because of what seems to be an antagonistic position toward Jesus. Yet, they believed that the Torah was a gift from God (as we do scripture) and that the oral traditions that had been passed down for generations were also gifts from God, but of equal value. Their question to Jesus - "Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?" - is their attempt to understand if this Rabbi Jesus shares their views...whether or not Jesus is as concerned as they are for ceremonial purity and for the sacredness of their vows, or their commitment, to the oral traditions. The question is pretty straight forward and seemingly with no devious intent.

It’s Jesus’ response that is surprising. Because he immediately goes into an antagonistic mode. “You hypocrites!” he calls them. He then proceeds to quote from Isaiah, essentially "throwing the book" at them and arguing that they confuse the interpretation of the law with the law itself.

Except, there’s a problem. Because laws don’t interpret themselves. It’s why today we have courts in our country. To interpret our laws. It’s why we have hundreds (if not thousands) of commentaries written on Scripture. To better understand or try to understand what the Bible is saying to us.

Take the fourth commandment, for example. “Honor your mother and father.” Now we probably get pretty easily what it means to honor someone. But who is your mother? Is it your biological mother? Or your adoptive mother? Your stepmother? Perhaps an aunt who was like a mother to you? Maybe a grandmother? Who decides the meaning of “mother?” Or, likewise, “father?” 

Can you put yourself into the position of the Pharisees? They’re simply trying to observe the law in the fullest sense. 

Jesus’ response to their question really isn't about the ritual of being clean or unclean. Please note that Jesus isn’t saying that cleanliness or ritual cleanliness isn’t important. Or that spreading germs is a good idea. This is more about how we understand the law. More specifically, it’s about how we obey the law. Whether we follow the spirit of the law or the letter of the law, which is what Jesus condemns here. Such as keeping keeping the Sabbath, but then cheating people in the marketplace day after day. Or offering sacrifices in the temple, then dealing unjustly or mistreating those who are vulnerable: slaves, foreigners, widows, or orphans. 

What defiles us - what makes us unclean - is not the stuff outside of us. What makes us unclean is what comes from our heart. Those thoughts, words, and deeds that create barriers in our relationships--with each other, with God. Those things we struggle with. Sexual sin. Theft. Murder. Adultery. Greed. Evil action. Deceit and lying. Unrestrained immorality. Envy. Insults. Arrogance. Foolishness. There is nothing on this list we can deny. We, who are bearers of God’s image, but who are also ungodly monsters that lurk underneath. Saint and sinner that we are. Wheat and chaff. Sheep and goats. This back and forth of ourselves that we struggle with. “Daily,” as Paul writes. That we ultimately cannot change. At least, not by ourselves.

It’s why we confess our sins regularly in worship.  Why we approach the Lord’s Supper each week. That we might know and receive God’s forgiveness. That, in Christ, our relationship to God might be restored. And that we might continue to be transformed. So that our hearts - the source of evil - might be changed. Luther writes that our new life is alien to us. That it’s outside the old “us.” That it’s not a matter of Jesus coming and cleaning us out to use our old shell. But that Jesus comes to kill the old. To make a new creation. To take us away from finding our identity in the law and instead finding it in Christ. Because that is the only “us” where we find freedom and a future. Where we find hope!  

But, this isn’t the end of it. Because, then, this same Jesus sends us back out. We, who have become freed in Christ, now are servants to all. To the clean and the unclean. To the wheat and the chaff. To the sheep and the goats. Because our cleanliness, once again, doesn’t not come from external things. Our cleanliness comes solely through the transforming grace of God. 

"Create in us a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within us." May this be our continuous prayer. Amen.

Preached February 16, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Epiphany 6
Readings: Mark 7:1-23; Isaiah 1:11-17, Psalm 50:7-23

God's Kingdom Announced: Calling and Conflict

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

    who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. 

--Matthew 2:1-12 (NRSV)

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

I need to begin today with an apology. If you believe that there were three wise men, then, I apologize to you. If you believe that their names were Balthazar, Caspar, and Melchior, then, I apologize to you. If you believe this is a lovely story about kings from a foreign land who have come to pay homage to Jesus and be converted, then, I apologize to you. I apologize to you, because I am about to burst your bubble around the romanticized and sanitized version of this story that has been perpetuated upon us. (I’m well aware of the irony of the church blessing we just did with our children and our use of some of the romanticized elements from this story.) 

So, what do we have here in this story?

First, we have the magi. There has been much speculation who these magi were and where they were from. Current scholarship places their origin from Persia. Present day Iran. (The irony of this story on this very day also does not escape me.)

It is believed that these magi were followers of Zorastrianism, which was a predecessor religion to Islam. They were pre-Muslim. They were also astrologers. Our Matthew text portrays them as men. However, it is well known that in these caravans both women and men were present. Both women and men were practitioners of this religion. It’s a reminder for us, once again that, in these times in which scripture was written down, male voices had privilege and predominance.

So, have I burst a few bubble for you, so far?

We know that this was not a short trip that the magi were on. There were weeks and months between the different elements of the nativity story. We know in the very next verses - verses that have conveniently been left out of today’s lectionary because they are so horrendous - that, by the time the magi reach Bethlehem, a likely 2 years has passed since Jesus’ birth. Along the way, there has been a detour to Jerusalem. Because, while these astrologers have discerned that the star will lead them to a new king, they know little else. So, they, naturally, travel to the place where kings reside in Israel. To Jerusalem. To inquire about who this king might be and where he might be found.

Enter Herod. Our text reads that, when the magi made their inquiry and Herod heard it, he was frightened. As was all of Jerusalem. Frightened. Because a new king is a threat to Herod’s power. It may be a threat to those in Jerusalem, who reside in this seat of power. It may also simply be the fear that arises from among the people because they know of Herod’s empirical ways.  They know how he responds when he feels threatened. How he responds when someone tells him that he is not the center of the universe. They have experienced the pain of living under imperial rule. Perhaps the people of Jerusalem live in as unstable times as we are living in at this very moment. 

Herod inquires of his scholars and theologians. Who is this king? Where is he to be born? Do you find it as interesting as I do that these people in Herod’s own court know the answers to the questions he asks. And yet, they have not sought this new king. Instead, it is foreigners, coming from a different religious tradition who are seeking this king. 

Herod shares the information and then sends them on their way. But before he does, he asks them. No, truthfully, he orders them to return once they have found him so that Herod can go and pay homage. Likely story. We can see through Herod. Because we know the Herods of this world. This is not a Herod who will bow down to another king and pay him homage. This is a Herod who, in the very next verses, will order the slaughter of innocent children 2 years old and younger. 

This Herod is very different from these foreign astrologers. They go on their way and, as they leave Jerusalem, once again see the star that leads them to Bethlehem. To the young Jesus. In their joy and then in their humility they kneel down and worship him. Bringing gifts - gifts that seem so appropriate. Gold, meant for kings. Frankincense, used by priests. And myrrh, an embalming oil and symbol of death.

Then, they return home by another way. Transformed. And disregarding Herod’s order.

This story, this story of the journey of the magi reminds us of many things. It reminds us, first, that we do not have exclusive claim to the revelation of God. This revelation is given to and can come from persons well beyond our ethnic and our religious boundaries. God is generous with revelation and with salvation. God calls us into places of discomfort to encounter others with different experiences and beliefs. To discover and to grow from these encounters, trusting that through them God is further revealing godself to us. I have a dear friend - a dear friend who is Wiccan - who tells me that each of our different religious and faith traditions give us a broader understanding of who God is. This God who we want to keep in a neat little box, because that is so much easier and less disruptive for us.

This story also reminds us that God is at work in the world despite the existence of true evil. There is no guarantee for us that bad and evil things will not happen. But God promises that we will not walk through these dark valleys alone. God is not naive about the evils of the world. We should not be either. And we should not, in our privilege and our ability to read and then close the newspaper and put it neatly away - we should not understand that our life of faith is to be a comfortable life. We should understand that we are called by God to places of discomfort. To times of confronting evil. To challenge the powers that seek violence, instead of love and understanding. That divide instead of uniting.

And, finally, this story reminds us that the birth of Jesus Christ is of cosmic and astronomical importance for all people. It is good news for all who wish to participate in God’s kingdom - a kingdom of radically inclusive love and grace. And bad news for those who desire power over and against others.

It is these characteristics of love and grace that are the mark of a believer of God. One who puts God at one’s center. Who seeks God daily and weekly so that God is at the center of our lives, rather than our own self. A believer of God is one who is called to places of conflict and discomfort, to speak out and to challenge leaders that do not follow God’s kingdom - those who don't seek justice. Those who don't seek mercy. Those who seek to walk humbly with God. It is the mark of a believer to seek others out - others with different beliefs and experiences - that, they might be transformed. And, mostly, that we might be transformed. It is a mark of a believer of God, a believer who has been freed by God, to live into radical grace and love. These are our markers. Markers of lives of calling and lives of conflict. Who we are to be as we live out the kingdom of God.

So, I’m sorry this morning. I’m sorry if I’ve burst any bubbles you might have had about this story. But, it’s in the bubble-burst version where we find the real truth. Where we find God.

Amen.

Preached January 5, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Epiphany of Our Lord
Readings: Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14; Ephesians 3:1-12; Matthew 2:1-12

God's Promise of Jesus: Guided by God

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
    who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

“A voice was heard in Ramah,
    wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
    she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.” Matthew 2:1-23 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you, from God, our Creator, and from our Savior Jesus, the Messiah, who is Christ the Lord. Amen.

We’ve really romanticized this story, haven’t we? It’s not often that we hear this full second chapter of Matthew on this day. Usually, on Epiphany, we hear only the story of the three magi and the star. Notice, I use the word “magi” instead of “wise men” because this is what they were - magi. Short for magician. Not the magicians that we know, but more like astrologers. Those who look to the stars and to the heavens for answers. 

We’re romanticized this story, creating a myth that there were three magi, led by the star, from very far away. Assuming that, from the number of gifts in the story, there are three of them, although our text never says that.

We’ve romanticized the gifts themselves. The three gifts. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh. We’ve created our own imagery around these gifts. That gold was given to represent Jesus as king. And of his kingly reign. Then frankincense. That it was given to represent Jesus in his priestly role, since this fragrant oil was used by the temple priests in their rituals of sacrifice. And, then, the third gift, myrrh, an oil used to prepare bodies for burial. Given to represent the sacrifice of Jesus. His death. For us. 

We’ve developed such a lovely and romantic story around the coming of the magi, that it is hard to hear the entire story.  The full story. Not only the story of the magi, who follow the star to find this new king. But, also the story of Herod. And of the religious leaders in Jerusalem. Herod, a puppet king, controlled by Rome, claiming to have Jewish ancestry in order to get the position. And, then, there are the religious leaders. The ones who should have been the ones to know about this king, instead of these foreigners - these Gentiles - from the east. Both Herod and the religious leaders who are frightened by the possibility of a new king rising up to claim power. All of Jerusalem, which was the center of power. Threatened by a baby. 

And, then, there is the worst part of the story, a story that is often called, “The Slaughter of the Innocents.” The killing of children two years old and under. Out of fear and out of Herod’s anger at the act of civil disobedience by the magi. As they, not trusting Herod, disobey his order to return and tell him where this new king is. With the result that Herod, in his fury, orders innocent children to be killed. 

Perhaps we have romanticized this Epiphany story, glossing over all of the evil, because it feels too close to home. Too close to our own world, two thousand years later. 

And, yet, if we look closely at this story, there are those small places of hope. Those small lights in the midst of the darkness. There is the warning to the magi in a dream to return another way. Instead of via Jerusalem and without providing intelligence about the child to Herod.

There is the angel who appears to Joseph again, in a dream. And warns him to go to Egypt. To take Mary and the child and flee. To become refugees in a land that once imprisoned and enslaved Joseph’s ancestors. To be safe from Herod.

And, then, there is the very star itself. Called the Bethlehem Star. That, if you listened carefully to the story this morning, you heard that the magi first noticed it at its rising. That it was lost along the way. Yet, that after the magi had set out from Jerusalem, it appeared once again. Leading them and then stopping over the very place where the young Jesus was.

I stumbled upon an article this week by Craig Chester, an astronomer who co-founded the Monterey Institute for Research in Astronomy.  This Star of Bethlehem, he writes, “is a mystery and a puzzle, involving not only theology and astronomy, but also history and even astrology.”

Theologians and astronomers and historians for years have struggled over this story. Trying to understand who the Magi were. Where they came from. When they might have appeared in Judea. Trying to connect historical timelines with astronomical knowledge to find out if this story of the star and of the magi is true. Even though, for us, we know that the gospels are not written necessarily for historical or other scientific purposes, but to provide theological understanding for God’s people. 

And, yet, Dr. Chester tells this story, from his perspective as an astronomer. That in 3 and 2 BC, astronomers know that there were a series of close conjunctions involving Jupiter. Interestingly, the planet Jupiter represents kingship, coronations, and the birth of kings. In Hebrew, Jupiter was known as Sedeq or “righteousness,” a term that was also used for the Messiah.

In September of 3 BC, for example, the planet Jupiter came into conjunction with Regulus, the star of kingship, in the brightest constellation of Leo, which was the constellation of kings. It was also a constellation associated with the Lion of Judah - a reference that is made in Hebrew scripture to the Messiah. In that month, the royal planet approached the royal star in the royal constellation representing Israel. Just a month earlier, Jupiter and Venus, the Mother planet and the planet of love, had almost seemed to touch each other in another close conjunction, also in Leo. And, then, the conjunction between Jupiter and Regulus was repeated. Not once, but twice, in February and May of 2 BC. Finally, in June of 2 BC, Jupiter and Venus, the two brightest objects in the sky except for the sun and the moon, experienced an even closer encounter when their disks appeared to touch. To the naked eye they became a single bright object above the setting sun.

Chester argues that the Magi, being the skilled astrologers that they were, could not have missed this exceptionally rare spectacle. That the astrological significance of these events must have been seen by them as the announcement of the impending birth of a great king of Israel.

Now all of this is incredibly fascinating. At least, it was to me. But there’s one more observation made by Dr. Chester. You see, planets normally move eastward through the stars, not westward as they would have had to move to reach Bethlehem. They also regularly exhibit what are called retrograde loops, which are points in the sky when they appear to slow, come to a full stop, and move backward (or westward) through the sky for weeks. As a planet nears the end of a retrograde loop, it slows, stops, and then resumes its eastward course. Chester argues that it seems plausible that the Magi were “overjoyed” at again seeing before them His star - Jupiter - which, at its stationary point, was standing still over Bethlehem. He argues this because astronomers know for certain that Jupiter performed a retrograde loop in 2 BC. And that it was at its stationary point on December 25th.

Now, I don’t know the truth or even the significance of Dr. Chester’s article. What I do know, though, is that, as we read through this story that has both great joy and deep sadness, we see these points of light appearing in the midst of darkness. Dreams. Angels. A Star. Points of light that guide the magi and Joseph out of darkness. Small moments of guidance. Moments of God’s guidance.

Because this, I think, is how God guides us throughout our lives. Through small points of light - star gifts - small moments that lead us out of darkness to the light and the joy of the incarnation. To the coming of God to earth to be present with us for all time. 

And, so, this morning, I have a small point of light for you. We call these Star Gifts. There are a number of stars here. On each is a word that I would like you to reflect on for the coming year. Hang it somewhere, where you can see it every day. And, then, like Mary, ponder the significance of this Word on your life this year. Wonder how God might be speaking to you through this simple Word. Notice that you are not asked to give anything, but invited to receive. Because this is always the order of things in God’s realm - God always gives first. And then we are invited to respond with our gifts and ourselves.

May this star gift provide for us moments this year to ponder the incarnation of God. How God comes to us. How God speaks to us. And how God guides us, just as God did the magi so very long ago. Amen.

Preached January 6, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Feast of Epiphany
Readings: Matthew 2:1-23; Psalm 96:10-13

God's Promises Bring Hope: Grace and Freedom

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

Before we begin our story today, I’d like to take a minute or so to set the stage. And to catch us up a little bit. Since the start of this series, each Sunday we’ve heard a story about one of Israel’s patriarchs. We began with Noah and that cosmic story of the flood and God’s attempt to re-create a world that had become completely evil. Along with God’s promise to never again destroy the earth and the sign of the rainbow. 

Then, we heard the story of Abraham and of God’s call to him to lead God’s chosen people. There was another promise by God in this story--that God would bless Abraham and Sarah with many generations who would grow into these chosen people and be given a land that would be their land. That they would be blessed so they could be a blessing.

Then, there was Joseph last week--great grandson to Abraham. We especially saw God’s hand at work in protecting Joseph in Egypt, even as he was falsely accused. 

Today, we hear the story of Moses. 

Between Joseph and Moses, there were many, many generations. By Moses’ time, the promise that God made to Abraham that Israel would be a large people had come true. The Israelites lived in Goshen - an area of Egypt. They had multiplied with a population, by some estimates, of over 2 million people. They had flourished in this land, even though it wasn’t the land that God promised them. 

But, then, things began to change. In the first chapter of the book of Exodus, verse 8, we read, “Now a new king came to power in Egypt who didn’t know Joseph.”  This new king, or pharaoh, began to worry about how large Israel had become. He worried that, if a war would break out with Egypt’s enemies, the Israelites would join with those enemies, fight against Egypt, and escape.

So, he forced them into work gangs. He enslaved them, making their workload harsher and harsher. The second chapter of Exodus reads, “The Israelites were groaning because of their hard work. They cried out, and their cry to be rescued from the hard work rose up to God. God heard their cry of grief. And God remembered God’s covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God looked at the Israelites, and God understood.”

It was at this point, that we hear of Moses, who is our focus today. 

God calls Moses, along with his brother and sister, Aaron and Miriam, to set God’s people free. God sends Moses to the pharaoh to tell him to set Israel free. But, the pharaoh won't listen. The Hebrew scripture tells us that he “hardened his heart.” He became stubborn. So, God sends a series of plagues. Ten of them. Who remembers what some of those plagues were (water into blood, invasion of frogs, Lice/insects, flies, livestock disease, boils, hail, locusts, darkness, death of the firstborn)? By the end of the last plague, pharaoh had enough. He told Moses to lead Israel away. To go out of Egypt. 

So, they left. And, eventually, they reached the Sea of Reeds. And camped. It is here where today’s story picks up. We read from Exodus, chapter 14. 

When Egypt’s king was told that the people had run away, Pharaoh and his officials changed their minds about the people. They said, “What have we done, letting Israel go free from their slavery to us?” So he sent for his chariot and took his army with him. He took six hundred elite chariots and all of Egypt’s other chariots with captains on all of them.

As Pharaoh drew closer, the Israelites looked back and saw the Egyptians marching toward them. The Israelites were terrified and cried out to the Lord. They said to Moses, “Weren’t there enough graves in Egypt that you took us away to die in the desert? What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt like this? Didn’t we tell you the same thing in Egypt? ‘Leave us alone! Let us work for the Egyptians!’ It would have been better for us to work for the Egyptians than to die in the desert.”

But Moses said to the people, “Don’t be afraid. Stand your ground, and watch the Lord rescue you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never ever see again. The Lord will fight for you. You just keep still.”

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why do you cry out to me? Tell the Israelites to get moving. As for you, lift your shepherd’s rod, stretch out your hand over the sea, and split it in two so that the Israelites can go into the sea on dry ground.

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord pushed the sea back by a strong east wind all night, turning the sea into dry land. The waters were split into two. The Israelites walked into the sea on dry ground. The waters formed a wall for them on their right hand and on their left. The Egyptians chased them and went into the sea after them, all of Pharaoh’s horses, chariots, and cavalry. As morning approached, the Lord looked down on the Egyptian camp from the column of lightning and cloud and threw the Egyptian camp into a panic. The Lord jammed their chariot wheels so that they wouldn’t turn easily. The Egyptians said, “Let’s get away from the Israelites, because the Lord is fighting for them against Egypt!”

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Stretch out your hand over the sea so that the water comes back and covers the Egyptians, their chariots, and their cavalry.” So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. At daybreak, the sea returned to its normal depth. The Egyptians were driving toward it, and the Lord tossed the Egyptians into the sea. The waters returned and covered the chariots and the cavalry, Pharaoh’s entire army that had followed them into the sea. Not one of them remained. The Israelites, however, walked on dry ground through the sea. The waters formed a wall for them on their right hand and on their left.

Israel saw the amazing power of the Lord against the Egyptians. The people were in awe of the Lord, and they believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses. Exodus 14:5-7, 10-16, 21-29, 31 (CEB).

Do you ever wonder how frightening it must have been for Israel as they turned back and saw the Pharaoh approaching with his army? Trapped there? Awaiting slaughter? Nowhere forward and certainly nowhere backward.

In his book Messengers of God, Elie Wiesel writes about this scene. Wiesel, who experienced the Holocaust, was a man who, like the Israelites, knew what it was like to live under a leader and a government that had become pure evil. Just like the pharaoh in Egypt. Wiesel writes this about Israel and their experience at the edge of the sea: "One could see people running. Running breathlessly. Without a glance backward. They were running toward the sea. And there they came to an abrupt halt. This was the end. Death was there, waiting. The leaders of the group, urged on by Moses, pushed forward: Don’t be afraid! Go! Into the water! Into the water! Yet, according to one commentator, Moses suddenly ordered everyone to a halt. Wait a moment! Think! Take a moment to reassess what you are doing. Enter the sea, not as frightened fugitives, but as free men and women!"

This Friday, after we had witnessed the spectacle in Washington, the appalling spectacle that we have allowed our country to become, my morning devotion featured appointed verses from the prophet Micah, which read, “The faithful have disappeared from the land, and there is no one left who is upright; they all lie in wait for blood, and they hunt each other with nets. The hands are skilled to do evil; the official and the judge ask for a bribe, and the powerful dictate what they desire; thus they pervert justice...Put no trust in a friend, have no confidence in a loved one; guard the doors of your mouth from her who lies in your embrace; for the son treats the father with contempt, the daughter rises up against her mother, the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; your enemies are members of your own household. But as for me, I will look to the Lord, I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me.”

As I read these words, it was a reminder for me once again, that our salvation comes not from principalities or powers. But, from God. From a God who, as Israel found out on that fearful day at the edge of the water--is faithful and who keeps promises.

We have this same God. Faithful. A promise-keeper. Who calls us to “Go, go into the water.” Into the waters of baptism, where we stand at the edge reassessing what we are doing. And realizing that we go into the water, not as frightened people, but as free women and men. Into the water, where, through God’s faithful and never-ending grace, we are washed in the blood of the Lamb, our Savior Jesus Christ. And freed.

Friends, I don’t know what will happen in our country. But, what I do know is that God hears our cries. And I know that God is working in our midst. To bring about a more just world. More just than the world we experienced this past week as we watched two families be destroyed. Somehow, God is working in the midst of this to turn our world around so that all may experience God’s saving grace. 

This is what Israel learned that day at the edge of the water. This is what we know in the water of our baptisms. That God is faithful. That God is just. And that, through God’s grace and only God’s grace, we are freed. It is in this knowledge and only this knowledge, that we place our hope and our future. Amen.

Preached Sunday, September 30, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 19
Readings: Matt. 2:13-15; Ex. 14:5-7, 10-14, 21-29, 31.

Living Word

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”) From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known. John 1:1-18 (NRSV)


It’s epic, isn’t it. The minute that music starts and the prologue to the movie begins to scroll, we immediately know what this is the beginning to--even more so if you’ve been paying any attention to what new movies have been released this weekend. 

“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” It is these words that begin the story of the mythical Star Wars universe. It is the epic story of the primal battle between good and evil. The Empire versus the Rebels. The Jedi versus the Sith. Characters like Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader play out their personal struggles with temptation, fall, conflict, and redemption in the midst of the broader, universal battle. 

It’s the story of the Force. According to Obi-Wan Kenobi, “The Force is what gives a Jedi his (and her) power. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.” The “light side of the Force” serves as a metaphor for the invisible, powerful source of goodness, truth and life. According to the story, somehow an imbalance has happened in the universe with the intrusion of the dark side. The dark side, which is a metaphor for evil, falsehood, and death.

The Star Wars franchise uses these metaphors of light versus dark to frame the epic struggle to restore balance to the Force. Balance isn’t achieved by equalizing the dark side and the light side. Balance is gained by vanquishing--by eliminating--the dark side completely. Because evil has brought chaos. It is only the victory of the light that brings true order.

The first verse of our text this morning from John also meant to trigger our memory. Just like the beginning of each Star Wars movie, the opening words are intended to immediately connect us to another epic story. These opening words, the first verse of this poem we call the Prologue of John.

“In the beginning…” it opens. Where have we heard this before? Do these words trigger your memory? There’s no mistaking the connection to Genesis that John is making here. No mistaking the cosmic nature of the story that we are about to hear. 

“In the beginning was the Word…” Word. 

We’re going to study a little Greek here today. In the Greek, Word is written as Logos.

By divine speech, by divine Word, God created. Bringing light into darkness. Order out of chaos. God speaks and the world is created. God speaks and crowns this new creation with human beings--beings who are meant to be God’s personal agents of glory and goodness in the world. 

And, then, it all falls apart. Though human beings were meant to mediate God’s order in the world, evil plunged the universe into devastation and chaos. So God made a plan. A new thing.

“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.” 

The Greek word that John uses here for the word “with” can be understood as being “face to face” with God, or having a close relationship with God. The same as the Creator, but distinct from the Creator. 

The Word. Present at the beginning of all time. With a creative role. In relationship with the Creator. Who now comes to earth in human form. The Word. Logos. Jesus.

At the heart of Jesus coming into the world. At the heart of Jesus’ presence in the world is a sign that God is about to do a new thing. In this fourth Gospel, Jesus is all about creation, new birth, and new life. The light in the darkness.

That new thing is explained in another Greek word, skenao. In verse 14, our translation reads, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us.” Skenao. Another translation is “took up residence.” Or as The Message paraphrase reads, “The Word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood.”

This is the new thing that God is doing. God dwells with God’s people. The Gospel writer understands that God’s promise to be “with God’s people wherever they go” has now taken on a new meaning in Jesus. God dwells with us by taking on our own human form. By becoming who we are. God is not just close, but dwells beside us and in us. And is sharing everything God has because of God’s love for us.

There’s one more Greek word. Katalambano. 

In verse 5, this word is translated as “overcome.” “The light shined in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.” Another translation is “to understand.” “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not understand it.” 

To be in the light in John’s gospel is to be in relationship with Jesus. Understanding. Believing. Abiding. Darkness represents a lack of relationship. Not understanding. Not believing. Apart.

Just as Jesus was in relationship with the Creator at the beginning of time, in coming to earth in human form, God seeks to be in relationship with us, just as God continuously sought to be in relationship with Israel. The presence of Jesus now in the world makes that fully possible. Through Jesus, we become children of God.

John the Baptist understood this. He knew that he was not the light, but that he was to point to the light. To point to Jesus--Jesus, who came into the world to scatter the darkness. To correct the imbalance. To restore goodness and truth and life. And to destroy evil and falsehood and death. The moment of glory would be the crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus. But none of this would be possible without first the glory of the incarnation. The light shining in the darkness.

John the Baptist was a witness to this light. To this Word made flesh. To Jesus.

We are, too. Witnesses to Jesus in the way in which we live in the world. To serve as forces of light and truth against the agents of darkness and deception. To be God’s own Jedi knights into the world. And especially to be in relationship with God. Intimately. With the Force who loves us deeply.

(after clip is concluded:) May the Force be with you. Amen.

Preached December 17, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
4th Sunday of Advent
Readings: Psalm 130:5-8, John 1:1-18