Living in Hope: The Way of Christ (Part 2)

When Pentecost Day arrived, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound from heaven like the howling of a fierce wind filled the entire house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be individual flames of fire alighting on each one of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as the Spirit enabled them to speak.

There were pious Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. When they heard this sound, a crowd gathered. They were mystified because everyone heard them speaking in their native languages. They were surprised and amazed, saying, “Look, aren’t all the people who are speaking Galileans, every one of them? How then can each of us hear them speaking in our native language? Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; as well as residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the regions of Libya bordering Cyrene; and visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism), Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the mighty works of God in our own languages!” They were all surprised and bewildered. Some asked each other, “What does this mean?” Others jeered at them, saying, “They’re full of new wine!”

Peter stood with the other eleven apostles. He raised his voice and declared, “Judeans and everyone living in Jerusalem! Know this! Listen carefully to my words! These people aren’t drunk, as you suspect; after all, it’s only nine o’clock in the morning! Rather, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:

In the last days, God says,

I will pour out my Spirit on all people.

    Your sons and daughters will prophesy.

    Your young will see visions.

    Your elders will dream dreams.

    Even upon my servants, men and women,

        I will pour out my Spirit in those days,

        and they will prophesy.

I will cause wonders to occur in the heavens above

    and signs on the earth below,

        blood and fire and a cloud of smoke.

The sun will be changed into darkness,

    and the moon will be changed into blood,

        before the great and spectacular day of the Lord comes.

And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. --Acts 2:1-21 (CEB)

Be glad in the Lord always! Again I say, be glad! Let your gentleness show in your treatment of all people. The Lord is near. Don’t be anxious about anything; rather, bring up all of your requests to God in your prayers and petitions, along with giving thanks. Then the peace of God that exceeds all understanding will keep your hearts and minds safe in Christ Jesus.

From now on, brothers and sisters, if anything is excellent and if anything is admirable, focus your thoughts on these things: all that is true, all that is holy, all that is just, all that is pure, all that is lovely, and all that is worthy of praise. --Philippians 4:4-8 (CEB)

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

Do you ever think about the Holy Spirit on that Pentecost day? More specifically, the sound of the Holy Spirit. Like a wind, our text tells us. It was a sound unheard at creation, but, here, on Pentecost it is like a wind.

Do you imagine what it sounded and felt like?  Do you imagine it was a soft, gentle breeze? Like the ones that we sometimes get here on a summer day, that make the heat of the day seem just a little more tolerable? Or do you imagine it to be a stronger wind? The type of wind that we also experience here - the wind that signals a coming storm front? That tells us our weather is about to change?

I think alot about the Holy Spirit as being like the wind. I always have. Maybe it’s because of growing up on the prairie where the wind blew constantly. Often a gentle breeze. But, sometimes, really strong winds. What we now call straight line winds. Winds that can be disorienting. Frightening. Unpredictable. Destructive. Even violent.

That was what the Holy Spirit sounded like that day. On that Jewish feast day, Shavuot. Or Pentecost in Greek. Meaning fifty. Because it was commanded to come fifty days after Passover. One of three of the primary Jewish festivals for which people were commanded to return to Jerusalem. Shavuot, or Pentecost, celebrated the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai during the Exodus - God’s Instruction coming down to God’s people. 

They had come from all over. We heard the names of the places near and far: Parthia. Mede. Elam. Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia. Asia. As far away as Rome. (Thank you, Gary, for reading all of those names.) Jerusalem swelled with diverse people on that day.  People who spoke many different languages. Who looked very different, one from the other.

And, then, they heard the sound. A tornadic sound. A sound so loud and violent that they rushed to see what was happening. When they arrived, not only did they see tongues of fire dancing on the heads of Jesus’ followers, but, incredibly, they began to hear the disciples speaking in their own languages. Breaking down the barriers between them.

Breaking down the barriers. Isn’t that what Jesus would have done had he been there? WWJD? What would Jesus do? Exactly what Jesus’ Spirit was doing. Breaking down the barriers.

I had a troubling conversation on Friday. 

Some of you may know that in December, after the tornadoes hit the western part of our state, the Bishop asked me to be one of two disaster coordinators - a co-coordinator - in our synod. When the Bishop asks…well, you know the drill. It’s pretty impossible to say no. 

So, I’ve been working with a colleague - Pastor Grace Pardun-Alworth, who serves St. Matthew’s in Paducah. Interestingly, she and I were classmates at Luther Seminary. 

On Friday morning, we were on a video call with the director of case management for Catholic Charities, based in Owensboro. Also on the call with us were each of the lead case managers assigned to work in the 16 counties that have been declared disaster areas. The director told us about some of the conversations she’d been having with volunteers coming in from churches and faith-based organizations from across the region - coming to help with the rebuilding process, now in its very early stages. 

She shared that some of these conversations have been very difficult. That when some of the volunteers hear that they’re being assigned to help rebuild a home for some who is gay. Or lesbian. Or undocumented. These Christian volunteers refuse to help them and ask to be reassigned somewhere else. Because, after all, you know God doesn’t like these kinds of people.

How small we make God! 

Father Greg Boyle, who I’ve mentioned before - he’s a Jesuit priest who works in the heart of east Los Angeles - says that “God’s dream come true is a sense of kinship and connection, that everybody would enter into a kind of exquisite mutuality with each other.” 

We need to break out of the kind of God that’s so tiny. And that’s a mirror image of ourselves. We know that we’ve created God in our own image when we discover that God hates the same people we do.

This is the disruptive and transformational work of the Holy Spirit. When we say, “God, it’s not about me, but about you” God says, “It’s not about me, it’s about you.” It’s about a compassion for the other that stands in awe of all that people have to carry rather than living in judgment of them. Awe is where God wants us to be. To honor others. To move past barriers rather than judging them and distancing ourselves from them. 

It’s about kinship. Kinship and connection. That’s really what the kingdom of God is about. Kinship. Because, the natural by-product of kinship is peace and justice. After all, it’s really hard to demonize someone you know.

Isn’t that Paul’s message, too? A message of gentleness. Gentleness here, which means a willingness to submit to injustice. To risk maltreatment. To break down barriers in order to move in closer so that we might, through the transformational power of the Holy Spirit, build kinship and connection. (Doesn’t that sound just like the “mind of Christ” we heard about last week in Philippians 3?) 

We love because God first loved us. That’s God’s hope. That’s the only kind of praise God is interested in.

So, on this Pentecost day, as we are soon to witness Lorelei affirming her baptism - may we reaffirm ours, as well: to live among God’s faithful people, to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people, following the example of Jesus, and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth. Amen.

Preached June 5, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville, and New Goshen Presbyterian, Prospect.

Day of Pentecost

Readings: Acts 2:1-21, Philippians 4:4-8, John 14:16-17

The Hope of the Messiah - Return, Rend, Restoration

Our text this morning comes from the prophet Joel. As you hear the reading, it may seem odd to hear these words during the Advent season. We more typically hear the first part of our reading on Ash Wednesday. And the second part on Pentecost Sunday. 

Our reading this morning is from Joel, chapter 2.

Yet even now, says the Lord,

    return to me with all your heart,

with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;

    rend your hearts and not your clothing.

Return to the Lord, your God,

    for he is gracious and merciful,

slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love,

    and relents from punishing.

Then afterward

    I will pour out my spirit on all flesh;

your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,

    your old men shall dream dreams,

    and your young men shall see visions.

Even on the male and female slaves,

    in those days, I will pour out my spirit. --Joel 2:12-13, 28-29 (NRSV)

The first chapter of Joel, preceding today’s lesson, opens with a lament. It describes a country overrun by a horrible infestation of locusts. The swarm has completely devastated the countryside, leaving it in ruins. The situation is dire. Not only is there environmental calamity and devastation, but the people are experiencing famine and starvation. There is no food. Not even enough to offer a sacrifice to God. There is nothing with which to worship.

Then, in the second chapter, the prophet Joel switches the metaphor. To an invading army that in the same way as the locusts that preceded it. These images of invasion and destruction are a familiar story for the readers of Joel. The people of Israel have lived this story over and over again. It goes like this…

In Genesis, God promised Abraham and his descendants that they would inhabit this land called Canaan. Canaan is sandwiched between the vast Mediterranean Ocean to the west and the desolate desert to the East. After years of being enslaved by Egypt, God frees Israel and makes a covenant with them in Exodus. Here, God promises to be with them. And that they will become a holy nation. A royal priesthood.

God gives them instructions to build a tabernacle that will represent the Garden of Eden and God’s relationship with all humanity. King Solomon will eventually build a beautiful and magnificent temple to replace the Tabernacle and will establish it in the city of Jerusalem. This temple was to remind the people that the Spirit of God filled their covenant with God. That they planted like a vineyard so that the world could taste the love of God. Through them. 

This relationship with God was to be the source of the rivers of life for all nations, for all humanity.

Things went fairly well, at first. Under King David, the twelve tribes of Israel were united into one kingdom. But, then, King Solomon built the temple. And he did it by over-taxing the people and by using slave labor. The kingdom was torn apart. A civil war led to two separate nations: Israel in the north. And Judah in the south. 

Immediately, Israel repeated the story of the Golden Calf from Exodus and established two golden calves to replace the temple. Judah wasn’t much better. The majority of her kings led like tyrants: oppressing the people, driven by greed, gluttony, and violence. They brought the gods of Canaan into the very temple itself. 

Eventually a series of invading armies destroyed the nation. The people of Israel, in the north were completely destroyed by Assyria. The people of Judah, in the south, were carried into captivity by the Babylonians. Solomon’s beautiful temple lay in ruins.  The people lived in exile - torn apart from their land, their communities, from the temple - the center of their worship, and from everything they knew. 

Yes, the readers of Joel knew the story of the invading locusts all too well.

Things were bad. Devastated. Left in ruin. The people far away. And yet...

...even now…Even in the midst of all of the betrayal and corruption, God stands ready to receive them. Return to me with all your heart, God says through the prophet. Return to me with fasting, with weeping, with mourning. Rend your heart and not your clothing.

You see, the traditional symbol of mourning in Israel and even today was to tear one’s robe open or to rip one’s clothing. Like wearing black to a funeral or having ashes smeared on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday. These outward symbols are good. But, they can become meaningless acts. What matters most to God is not the outward ritual - the ways or the places in which we worship. What matters most to God is our hearts. What God desires is hearts that are rendered. That are broken wide open in all honesty. In all of our anguish and grief. Hearts torn open, revealing the pain, the sorrow, the regret, the shame that each one of us carries deep inside. To rend our hearts is to break them wide open and pour everything out to God. 

To God. Who is gracious. Merciful. Slow to anger. Abounding in steadfast love. A god who relents from punishing. A God who is good. Who desires to be the center for us. To be the source of our well-being, our shalom.

This verse in Joel is a quote from Exodus 34. It’s one of the most repeated verses in the Bible. It’s the way in the Exodus story that God describes God’s very self to the people who have just betrayed the covenant at Sinai. God is not some cruel tyrant who wants oppressed servants to obey his every whim. God is a loving parent - father and mother - who longs to be in relationship with God’s children. Who longs to see God’s children thrive in God’s beautiful garden, created just for them.

When we allow our hearts to be opened by the Spirit and allow ourselves to be turned back to the grace, mercy, and loyal, never-ending love of God, our hearts, broken and hurt as they may be, connect with God’s heart. And, then, the love begins to flow...

...the Spirit of the LORD flows freely through our lives. Flowing through everybody, not just the elite or the chosen. But, through all flesh. Anyone who’s heart resonates with the heart of God - the heart of love - can flow in the spirit of God.

The readers of Joel longed for the day when the Messiah would come to restore the kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. We, on this side of the Advent, know that this Messiah is Jesus. This is what Peter proclaimed in Acts 2. That Jesus was God in the flesh. That Jesus was the picture of what it looks like when humanity fully resonates with the heart of God. 

Jesus. Who spoke truth to power. Who called out corruption and the abuse of the weak. Who touched the poor, the sick, the exiled. And who reconciled all things with his own self-sacrifice and forgiveness. Who inaugurated God’s kingdom here on earth. Who promises restoration that begins with the rebuilding of the natural world, which is where the story of creation first began - restoration and re-creation. 

And then the outpouring of the spirit and the embracing of all nations. All humanity. Living in abundance and well-being, with silos full of grain and no worries for anyone about where their next meal will come from. This was what the people of Joel’s day dreamed of. This is the unfolding vision in which we live, in this post-Advent world even in the midst of what may seem to be the darkness of the present time. So, come, people of God. Turn back to God. Here. In this place. In this time. Break open your whole heart. Pour out all the anguish, all of the sorrow, all of the confusion, all of the anger that has characterized our world and our lives in this time. Your lament is welcome before God, who is waiting there for you with a promise of new things and new possibilities. That there will be a future. And a future future. And, when you do, know that the Spirit will not be withheld from your broken heart. She will bind up your wounds, replace your doom with visions of what can be, and help us hear each other into being and into continuing to do the work of God in building up the kingdom of God here on earth. This is God’s promise in Joel. A promise for you and me. A promise for everyone. Amen.

Preached online Sunday, December 6, 2020 with Grace & Glory/Third Lutheran churches.

Advent 2

Readings: Joel 2:12-13, 28-29; Luke 11:13

Our Money Story: Reimagine

 Jesus told them, "When you pray, say:
‘Father, uphold the holiness of your name.
Bring in your kingdom.
Give us the bread we need for today.
Forgive us our sins,
    for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us.

And don't lead us into temptation.'"  --Luke 11:2-4 (CEB)

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

I know this may be confusing. We are in our third and final week, considering the Lord’s Prayer as it is written in the Gospel of Luke. In addition, we are in our third of four weeks focusing on the topic of our Money Story. That’s where it may get confusing. It would seem reasonable that our discussion around our money stories should conclude with our discussion around Luke’s Lord Prayer. But, have you ever experienced the end of something in your life while at the same time something else continued on? Let’s think of middle school, for example. You can finish fifth grade, but still be in middle school, right? Or think of parenting. Your child can finish college and move away, but your role as parent doesn’t end, right? It continues on.

So it is sometimes with sermons and sermon series. I hope that after next week, all of this will have made sense to you. Not to mention being a carrot for you to join us in worship next week, too!

Before we focus in on verse 4 of today’s reading, I’d like us to look back at this entire prayer in Luke in a slightly different way. We haven’t yet talked about this, but if we look closely at these three verses, we see that they are a chiasm. A chiasm is a tool in ancient literature and argument in which the elements of a passage are divided into parallel members. 

A Father, uphold the holiness of your name.

B Bring in your kingdom,

C Give us the bread we need for today.

B’ Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us.

A’ And don’t lead us into temptation.

The parallelism works from the outside in. So, if you take our reading in Luke, you will see that the lines marked with an A are parallel to each other, here in white. Likewise, the B lines are also parallel to one another. In green. In the center of the chiasm is line C. This is the most important line in the chiasm. Revealing the deepest concern of the passage. A prayer for God to give us provision. What we need.

Why do we need this provision? The question may seem silly to us. Of course we need food and shelter. To live. But, perhaps this question about why we need this provision is better answered by backing up in the chiasm. From Line C to Line B. 

Now, there are different types of chiasms. In this particular one, the parallel line are intended to explain each other. So, if we look at the first B line “bring in your kingdom,” it is to be further explained by the second B line. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us. Our prayer for forgiveness is related to our prayer that God’s kingdom come. 

Now to our focus on verse 4.

The idea of forgiveness here is not intended to be pietistic or moralistic. Instead, about seeking forgiveness because we have failed in working for the coming of God’s kingdom. A kingdom of justice. A kingdom of equity. A kingdom of enough. For everyone. We have failed in working to bring God's kingdom on earth by holding onto our wealth and our possessions. By being unwilling to share abundantly of them, in the same way they have been abundantly shared with us. Maybe we need to be forgiven because Our Money Story has been about scarcity. About hoarding our abundance. And in so doing, by maintaining power. 

To share our possessions is not only a mandate by God by a symbol of our faith. A fruit of it.

But, perhaps we’re on the other side of this. Perhaps we are impoverished. Poor. Lacking even the basic essentials. Wronged by those with means. Perhaps we lack power, wronged by systemic structures that seem to only keep us enslaved. We, too, are called to forgiveness. To forgive those who have wronged us.

To forgive and to be forgiven frees us from all that binds us. It reconciles us with God and with one another. So that we might begin to reimagine a world where social and economic systems no longer disparage or impoverish, but provide for and benefit everyone. A world consistent with the reign of God. And a world in which the holiness of God’s name is upheld and we are not tempted to idolatry.

We’ve now been in this time of pandemic for nearly six months. A few months into it, I remember reading several articles and hearing news reports about how, even in the midst of the evil we were experiencing, it seemed as though we were learning important lessons and considering the possibility of a new way of being after all of this was over. Spending more time with family and in relationship with others. Working to simplify our lives and be less busy and less consumed with acquiring stuff. Spending more time on our spiritual lives and our relationship with God and our faith community. And wanting to create new structures in our world, structures in which the inequities that have become so apparent in these past few months might be repaired. The world was, even in this midst of pandemic, vividly reimagining what might come out of this period of bondage. 

Last week, we talked about the year of jubilee set forth in Deuteronomy. A Sabbath year, where everyone and everything was to rest. To cease work. In a way it feels as though we are in a coronavirus-induced year of jubilee. Yet, as much as we might hope that things will be different at the end of this jubilee - this Sabbath year, we are already beginning to witness this hopefulness diminish as we become more tired and disheartened. And more divided. I have no doubt that, when it does end, credit card companies will charge interest again. Libraries will impose late fees. Prisons will be full once more. Rent will be due and not forgiven. The land will be worked and overworked. Just as our worth, our value, will, once again, be measured by our productivity or lack thereof.

Yet we, you and I as the church, are called to something different. We are called to bear witness to a greater jubilee, a fuller Sabbath, a never-ending kingdom inaugurated by Jesus. To continue to reimagine our money stories and to live out our reimagined lives in ways consistent with God’s kingdom. Lives of solidarity with and compassion for the poor and the dispossessed. Lives driven, not by consumerism and consumption, but by simplicity and gratitude for the abundance God showers on us, knowing that there is more than enough. And lives in which we are released from all that keeps us in bondage so that we might remember God’s name and, as the reconciled people of God, might fully experience the love God shows us through Christ Jesus. Witnesses to this reimagined way of being.

Luke in his version of the Lord’s Prayer calls us to pray for the coming of this kingdom. To be sustained as we wait and witness to it. And, in our praying, to open ourselves up to the divine coming, where God will wrap God’s arms around us and bind up our wounds. As God will do for the world.

Amen.

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

Pentecost 14

Readings: Luke 11:2-4; Psalm 126

Our Money Story: Remember

This morning we begin the first of three weeks looking at the Lord’s Prayer. We also begin four weeks thinking together about stewardship. Now, you may say that connecting these two things  makes no sense whatsoever. How in the world does money connect with prayer? 

Well, if you’re at all like me, this makes perfect sense. Because for many of us, I would imagine, at some time in our lives we have spoken a desperate prayer to God, asking for money. Maybe it was at the end of the month, when the money from our paycheck was no more. Wondering how we might make it to the end of the month. Put food on the table for our families. Pay our electricity bill to keep the lights on. I dare say that the connection of money and prayer makes perfect sense.

So, today, we read the Lord’s Prayer, not as we generally know it, from Matthew. But, from Luke. A shorter, more condensed prayer. To the point. Just like the direct conversation about money we will be having over these next weeks. 

For us to think and to speak directly of money is to automatically invite tension into this space. We quickly want to avoid the conversation. Yet, money and possessions are one of the most common topics in scripture. Jesus talked about money more than faith. Or prayer. So, our money story is a spiritual story. Over these next weeks, you will be invited to explore your money story. To compare it to God’s money story. And to consider making your own stewardship practices a fuller expression of God’s story. And of who you are. And what you believe. 

So, we begin today, reading three short verses that we will be using for each of these weeks. Today, I am reading from the Common English Bible translation. 

Jesus told them, “When you pray, say:
‘Father, uphold the holiness of your name.
Bring in your kingdom.
Give us the bread we need for today.
Forgive us our sins,
    for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us.
And don’t lead us into temptation.’” --Luke 11:2-4 (CEB)

We begin today by considering the first verse. “Father, uphold the holiness of your name. Bring in your kingdom.”

In our book club this month, we read a lovely book written for middle school children - One Crazy Summer, by Rita Garcia-Williams. It’s the story of 11-year-old Delphine and her two younger sisters. And of their experience in the summer of 1968 traveling from Brooklyn to Oakland, California, to spend a month with a mother they barely know. When they arrive in Oakland, they learn that their mother has taken on a new first name. They’ve only heard about her as Cecile. Yet, she has changed her first name to more fully reflect who she is. Nzila. A poet’s name, she says. “A poet who blows the dust off surfaces to make clear and true paths.”

This is not something appreciated by 11-year-old Delphine. Just a few pages later, Delphine notes that a “name is important. It isn’t something you drop in the litter basket or on the ground. Your name is how people know you. The very mention of your name makes a picture spring to mind, whether it’s a picture of clashing fists or a mighty mountain that can’t be knocked down. Your name is who you are and how you’re known even when you do something great or something dumb.”

Your name is who you are and how you’re known. Isn’t that why Jesus begins his prayer the way he does? With a name that tells us who he is and how he knows God? Father. Parent. In the Aramaic, Abba? This is how Jesus addresses God and how he invites his disciples to address God. Up to this point, it was unusual to name God in this way. The Hebrew scriptures sometimes compared God to a father, but it is rare that they referred to God as Father. Jesus uses this title to reshape the disciples’ thinking about who this God is. Shifting their understanding from the angry God that the Jewish people had come to know. And instead expanding their understanding and relationship with God as one of parent and child. Giving them permission to call God, Father. And to claim their protected position as God’s own children.

Now, for some of us, to call God, Father, can be difficult. Especially if we have not had good relationships with our fathers. Or have had negative experiences with patriarchy. Yet, it’s important for us to understand that as we are created in the image of God, so God is in the image of human beings, possessing both male and female attributes. Parental attributes. Loving, compassionate, nurturing. Yet firm, establishing necessary boundaries for their children and in their relationships with their children. To call God, Father, or Abba, is to simply view God as parent.

But, as young Delphine notes in the book we read, one’s name is not just who one is, but also how one is known. However we address God as parent, we are invited to regard God’s name as holy. As God is holy. The Hebrews believed that the name of God was so sacred, that they used the word Jehovah. A word that in Hebrew could be pronounced without any consonants. Like a breath moving through their lips. Yehovah. A name spoken with whispered awe. Awe appropriate for such a powerful and deeply loving heavenly Father. A Father whose reign is not just limited to the heavens. But, a powerful and loving Father who seeks to pour out God’s heavenly reign into this world. “Bring in your kingdom,” Jesus teaches the disciples to pray. Bring in your kingdom of peace and justice. Your kingdom of love. Bring it to this world, this earth, this planet, this ecology, to these animals, to these people, even to the industry of our world. So that you, Father, might be fully experienced here. Just as in heaven. This is the prayer Jesus teaches the disciples. And what Jesus was living out on earth, offering and living into an economy, as Walter Brueggemann writes, “that was sure to collide with established economic patterns and with those who presided over and benefited from these patterns.” Jesus’ term for this alternative economy was “kingdom of God.” A social practice. And a set of social relationships there were consistent with the God of the covenant. The God of Israel. To mention this “kingdom of God,” was to call on Jesus’ disciples to remember who this God - this Father - was. [1]

It’s the same God we remember every time we celebrate communion and hear the Great Thanksgiving - the words that precede our receiving the bread and wine, the body and blood. In this thanksgiving, we remember how God moved over the waters. How God led Israel with a pillar of fire from bondage to liberation. We remember that still, small voice and then the prophets, proclaiming a new way - a new Messiah. We remember Mary and Joseph and the angels. The blind man and the leper. And the crowds that Jesus healed. Him walking on water. The little children running to him. We remember the justice he preached. The hosannas and palm branches. The love that changed the world. We remember this each and every week so that we do not forget who this God is. And so that we remember who we are. And, what our money story is to be.

So much of our beliefs and our behaviors are rooted in stories. Narratives that are personal, familial, societal, cultural, and religious. We subconsciously absorb and construct many money stories. Perhaps our money stories are about scarcity. Coming from or living in stories of fear and shame. Of never having enough. Perhaps they are stories that the church is dying and no longer relevant. Or the stories that our actions in this world won’t have any impact. 

How might we begin to unpack and reconstruct these stories to make them a better reflection of who we know God to be? Who we remember God to be. The God of scripture. The God who meets Israel in the wilderness with manna. Who, even in the midst of desperate and fearful prayers, provides. Abundantly. An extravagantly loving God. Never content with just a heavenly kingdom. But who pours out that love into a Spirit-breathed creation. To bring life and freedom. This is the God we remember.

May we, over these weeks, begin to tease apart our own complicated money stories. To rewrite them if necessary. So that they more fully reflect what we believe. Who God is. And who we remember and know this God to be. Our Father, Lord of heaven and earth. Amen.

Preached August 23, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

12th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Luke 11:2-4; Psalm 103:1-5

[1] Brueggemann, Walter. Money and Possessions. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2016). 23.

Who We Are: Generosity

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

Well, we made it! We have been in 2nd Corinthians for five weeks as of today. Immersed in this letter that is considered one of Paul’s most theologically dense writings. I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of exhausted. Yet, today, we come to the place really where the “rubber meets the road.” For the first seven chapters, Paul has been trying to explain to the church in Corinth the nature of his apostolic ministry - a ministry patterned after the life of Christ. And, in turn, what the nature of their ministry is to be. And my ministry. And your ministry.

So, this morning we see how all that Paul has talked about up to now is manifested in the most practical of ways. We read from 2nd Corinthians, chapter 8.

We want you to know, brothers and sisters, about the grace of God that has been granted to the churches of Macedonia; for during a severe ordeal of affliction, their abundant joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part. For, as I can testify, they voluntarily gave according to their means, and even beyond their means, begging us earnestly for the privilege of sharing in this ministry to the saints— and this, not merely as we expected; they gave themselves first to the Lord and, by the will of God, to us, so that we might urge Titus that, as he had already made a beginning, so he should also complete this generous undertaking among you. Now as you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in utmost eagerness, and in our love for you—so we want you to excel also in this generous undertaking.

I do not say this as a command, but I am testing the genuineness of your love against the earnestness of others. For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich. And in this matter I am giving my advice: it is appropriate for you who began last year not only to do something but even to desire to do something— now finish doing it, so that your eagerness may be matched by completing it according to your means. For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has—not according to what one does not have. I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance. As it is written,

“The one who had much did not have too much, 

    and the one who had little did not have too little.” --2 Corinthians 8:1-15 (NRSV)

Throughout all of 2nd Corinthians, Paul uses these themes of giving and receiving. Of reciprocity. If we think back to the first week, when our focus was on the word, consolation, we learned that within the body of Christ our suffering is mutual. When Christ suffers, we suffer. When one of us suffers, we all suffer. We are bound together in suffering and in consoling one another. There is reciprocity - a sense of suffering and consolation, of giving and receiving. An interconnectedness.

Then, in week two, we heard Paul talk about forgiveness and reconciliation. How Paul could have, in his anger and hurt, walked away from the Corinthian congregation. But that he didn’t. And instead, he moved in. Closer to them. Forgiving them. And seeking to be reconciled with them. A true and reciprocal witness of Jesus and of Jesus’ own love and reconciliation for us.

In the third week, we listened as Paul compared us to earthen vessels. Cracked and broken clay jars into which God has poured God’s Spirit. This treasure, this life that God has worked and continues to work in us that points to Christ. A life lived reciprocally, in response to the gift - the gracious gift of God’s mercy and love.  And a life that, as we heard last week, through which we walk by faith, trusting in the steadfast love of God, and shaped by the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

Today is where all of this comes to fruition. Manifested through the reciprocity of love. If we truly believe that God is love and that the nature of this love is manifested in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus - love poured out for us in grace, then our only response can be love. Love that manifests itself in the most practical of ways. In generosity. By caring for one another, for our world, and for all that God has created.

There had been a desire, a plan generated in all earnestness by the churches in Macedonia and Achaia, including the congregation in Corinth. A plan to gather a collection of money for the church in Jerusalem, whose members had been experiencing economic hardship. Titus, Paul’s associate, had agreed to take the lead in organizing this collection from among the churches - gathered, as Paul had suggested, by each member setting aside a certain amount every week. Then gathered by Titus and delivered by Paul to their Jerusalem sisters and brothers in Christ on his next visit there. 

This is the reciprocity of love. As we have received, so we give. But note that this is not a one-way giving. Because one-way giving, one-sided giving, has the very real tendency to create a power imbalance, where those with wealth to distribute hold power and status over those without. Paul, instead, stresses equality and reciprocity. We have all been given gifts in abundance by God - gifts that may be manifested in different ways. Paul is seeking a fair balance, a fair distribution in wealth and of other gifts given to them by God. So that one with much doesn’t have too much. And one with little doesn’t have too little.

What are the implications of this for us? For us as the body of Christ in this time and place? Perhaps it is to be open in our giving. But, not to only be open and generous in our giving, but also to be open and generous in our receiving. Open to receiving the gifts God has given us and to others without resistance. Without fear. Without shame. Without trying to one-up one another’s gifts. Where all is grace. Grace that is modelled after the upside-down kingdom of God, where God’s grace is poured out generously and abundantly for us in love in Jesus. “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.

It is through this reciprocity of generosity - a generosity of receiving and giving - that in us and through us, God’s destiny is ultimately fulfilled. Amen.

Preached August 16, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

12th Sunday after Pentecost.

Readings: 2 Cor. 8:1-15; John 13:31-35

Who We Are: We Walk by Faith, Not by Sight

In these weeks that we’ve been reflecting on what was happening in the church in Corinth, on the conflict there, not only between members of the community, but between the community and Paul himself, one of the issues Paul has been dealing with is that of his apostolic authority. His ministry has come under attack. He, personally, has come under attack, with false apostles and members of the congregation challenging his attributes as a leader. That he is not polished enough. That he is not refined enough. That his speaking skills are inadequate. 

What Paul understands by these attacks is that the church in Corinth does not yet grasp the full meaning of apostleship. Not just his apostleship, but theirs, as well. 

And so, we begin this morning in the fifth chapter of 2nd Corinthians, where Paul continues the idea from last week of the treasure we have in earthen vessels. Paul’s theology was deeply grounded in the life of Christ, specifically in the death and resurrection of Christ. As this first part of today’s reading opens, we see Paul using metaphor - images familiar to him and to those in the Corinthian church - in order to help them understand the nature of life and death. We read, beginning with verse 1.

For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling — if indeed, when we have taken it off we will not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan under our burden, because we wish not to be unclothed but to be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.

So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord — for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For all of us must appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense for what has been done in the body, whether good or evil.  --2 Cor. 5:1-10 (NRSV)

Paul begins with the metaphor of a “tent,” something that, as a tentmaker by trade, he would have been familiar with. And an image that the Corinthians would have been familiar with, as well. Many people lived in tents at this time. Paul begins with this phrase: for we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed…” The word translated as tent can also be translated as tabernacle. This is something Paul does, too, in his writing. He will use a word or a phrase that just by its very use conjures up a much fuller picture. For example, to use the word tabernacle immediately connects Paul to his Jewish-ness. The tabernacle, or tent of meeting, was the structure constructed by Israel following God’s design, which was to be dismantled and moved with them throughout the wilderness. The tabernacle was the place where God promised to be present with them on their journey.

Then, the second word Paul uses here, is the word translated “destroyed.” When used, though, in tent-making imagery, this word really means dismantling. As one would dismantle a tent. 

And then, Paul continues on. Using additional metaphors of clothing and, especially, the contrast of being naked with being further clothed. 

So, what is Paul getting at? We, in the Western church, have become much more concerned about where we go after we die. But, the early Christians weren’t as concerned about this. Their focus was on God’s kingdom. And the unveiling of God’s kingdom here. “On earth as it is in heaven.” So, their groaning is not to be released from this earthly tent, but that a new and promised house might be placed over it - a house not made with human hands, but one made with God’s hands. And one that is forever. 

Paul uses these metaphors to provide a framework for the Corinthians and us to understand, not only his ministry, but ours, too. A framework that is centered around the Trinity. That the power of the Creator, who raises Jesus from the dead, is at work in us. Dismantling the battered old tent to place a new, free one over it - the new, free person God is making us into. Clothing our nakedness in new, permanent clothing. Crafting the eternal being God is making us into. 

The death and resurrection of Jesus shapes us. And prepares us for when he will come again on earth to judge. Us. And all people. Because how we live into this freedom we have been given matters. Otherwise, we simply cheapen the grace God has showered on us.

So, the pouring out of the Holy Spirit is us in our downpayment. Our security. Our promise and foretaste of this new creation. Working in us and through us to create new life. Life that often bursts in upon us. That surprises us even in the midst of trouble and suffering. We, like Jesus, move from death and suffering to life. Because we are image bearers of Christ.

This is where Paul continues, beginning with verse 11.

Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we try to persuade others; but we ourselves are well known to God, and I hope that we are also well known to your consciences. We are not commending ourselves to you again, but giving you an opportunity to boast about us, so that you may be able to answer those who boast in outward appearance and not in the heart. For if we are beside ourselves, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.  --2 Cor. 5:11-21 (NRSV)

This reforming, this re-clothing that God does in us through the power of the Holy Spirit, changes the way we look at the world. Giving us a new lens with which to view the world. Through the resurrected Jesus. Seeing glimpses of the long-promised new creation bursting into our world. And a hope that is perhaps best expressed in the words of Rev. Juanita Rasmus, pastor of St. John United Methodist in downtown Houston:

I think all things are going to be made new. You know, if nothing else, we can look at nature. You see a pine tree, experiencing some decay. And over time it falls to the ground. And over time it begins to house various animals that live off of the substance of that decay. Then, over time, that pine tree falls and crumbles. And, then, it becomes the floor of the forest and, in the midst of all of that, it becomes the basis for a new pine tree. So, yeah, if we can see that in nature, then we can see that in our own nature - in our human nature. That, indeed, all things can become made new. 

That gives me hope. That gives me hope, because I see a lot of people suffering. And I know that, even in my own suffering, God gives me an opportunity to dig down deep past all of the pain, and the disappointment, and the hurt, and the rejection, and the injustices. And in the midst of that, he'll let me see just a glimpse of something life-giving. That's what gives me hope. Hope not only for me, but for everybody.  Hope for the young African-American men who get shot because they wear hoodies or their music is determined by somebody as being too loud. I have to have hope. I don't know how I'd live if I didn't. 

So I trust that the same power that was able to resurrect Jesus will resurrect me. And that person who would shoot another person for their music being too loud. I don't want to be surprised when I get to heaven. I want to see this man redeemed. I want to see Hitler redeemed. I want to see slave masters redeemed. I want to see that. I long to see that. Because I think that is the hope that Christ offers me. That, if that pine tree can in the midst of decay become the ground of new life, then so can I. So can we. 

So, yeah, that's what I hope.*

May we walk in faith, not by sight. Even in times of deep struggle and pain. Trusting in the power of God’s steadfast love to work death out of life in us and through us, that we may become the ground of life in our world. Amen.

Preached August 9, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: 2 Cor. 5:1-21; Mark 8:22-26

*Quote from Rev. Juanita Rasmus taken from a video interview, entitled The Massive Living Program, found online at The Work of the People (www.theworkofthepeople.com)

God Works Through Us: No Joke!

Theophilus, the first scroll I wrote concerned everything Jesus did and taught from the beginning, right up to the day when he was taken up into heaven. Before he was taken up, working in the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus instructed the apostles he had chosen. After his suffering, he showed them that he was alive with many convincing proofs. He appeared to them over a period of forty days, speaking to them about God’s kingdom. While they were eating together, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait for what the Father had promised. He said, “This is what you heard from me: John baptized with water, but in only a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”

As a result, those who had gathered together asked Jesus, “Lord, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now?”

Jesus replied, “It isn’t for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has set by his own authority. Rather, you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.”

After Jesus said these things, as they were watching, he was lifted up and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going away and as they were staring toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood next to them. They said, “Galileans, why are you standing here, looking toward heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way that you saw him go into heaven.”

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, which is near Jerusalem—a sabbath day’s journey away. When they entered the city, they went to the upstairs room where they were staying. Peter, John, James, and Andrew; Philip and Thomas; Bartholomew and Matthew; James, Alphaeus’ son; Simon the zealot; and Judas, James’ son— all were united in their devotion to prayer, along with some women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers.

Peter and John were going up to the temple at three o’clock in the afternoon, the established prayer time. Meanwhile, a man crippled since birth was being carried in. Every day, people would place him at the temple gate known as the Beautiful Gate so he could ask for money from those entering the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he began to ask them for a gift. Peter and John stared at him. Peter said, “Look at us!” So the man gazed at them, expecting to receive something from them. Peter said, “I don’t have any money, but I will give you what I do have. In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, rise up and walk!” Then he grasped the man’s right hand and raised him up. At once his feet and ankles became strong. Jumping up, he began to walk around. He entered the temple with them, walking, leaping, and praising God. All the people saw him walking and praising God. They recognized him as the same one who used to sit at the temple’s Beautiful Gate asking for money. They were filled with amazement and surprise at what had happened to him. --Acts 1:1-14; 3:1-10 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father; Jesus, our risen Savior; and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

A riddle. Why is an elephant big, gray and wrinkled? Because if he was small, white and round, he'd be an aspirin. (They’ll get better, I promise!)

In honor of the NFL draft this week, did you hear about the quarterback who wanted to call his wife? He couldn’t find the receiver.  (Okay, I promised they would get better, didn’t I?)

Last one. I promise. One Sunday morning, a mother went in to wake her son and tell him it was time to get ready for church, to which he replied, "I'm not going." "Why not?" she asked. "I'll give you two good reasons," he said. "One, they don't like me, and two, I don't like them." His mother replied, "I'll give YOU two good reasons why YOU SHOULD go to church. (1) You're 59 years old, and (2) you're the pastor!"

We love to tell jokes, don’t we? And, in these times, when things can feel very dark, jokes and laughter can help lighten our mood. We love to tell jokes. Perhaps, it's because there is often a nugget of truth in them. 

I was looking online for jokes about men looking up into heaven. Strangely, I couldn’t find any. But, it feels like this first part of today’s story is kind of a joke, isn’t it? A joke on the disciples? Perhaps, a rather cruel joke. After all this time they had spent with their teacher, the years of teaching and learning, the good experiences and the “not so good” experiences. Even with the shame of abandoning Jesus in those last moments. The grief at his death. Then, the fear and amazement of the women at the end of the Easter story in Mark - a cruel joke of an ending. Not really even an ending, but a void waiting to be filled in. It all must have felt like some cruel joke on the disciples.

But, the joke didn’t end there. As we move into a new book, the Acts of the Apostles, part two of Luke’s Gospel, we enter into a book that begins to fill in the void with details in a more satisfying way. The beginning opens with a brief summary of everything that has happened. Perhaps it wasn’t such a cruel joke, after all. Especially, as the disciples learned that Jesus had been resurrected. Had experienced their risen teacher in their midst. As Jesus had continued to teach them about the kingdom of God over those 40 days. Speaking to them about what was to come. And, how, even after all they had experienced and learned, they still didn’t quite get it. “Lord, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now?” they asked. Perhaps, the joke was on Jesus.

Quickly, he sets them straight. It’s not about the when. But about the how. The how of the kingdom. And, they learn, they will be the how. “You will be my witnesses.” In Jerusalem, among the Jews. In Judea, among a more mixed population. In Samaria, among their political and religious enemies. And to the end of the earth - the Roman empire - the known world at that time. They were to be the how.

I mentioned earlier that the joke, though, didn’t end there. Because just after they had learned all of this - that they were to be the “how” of God’s kingdom - Jesus simply disappears up into the heavens. Can’t you hear what the disciples are thinking as they stand and watch Jesus go?  “Oh, crap!” they think. “What the heck are we going to do now?” The joke is truly on them.

But, they wait. Together, men and women in that upper room. For days. They wait, following Jesus’ instruction to them. To wait until the out-pouring of the Holy Spirit. And, then, they begin. Probably, like us, never really knowing quite what to do.

But the opportunities begin to present themselves. During the course of the day as they go about doing their usual things, the opportunities arise. One day, as Peter and John are going to the temple for prayer as they always did, they come upon a man, crippled since birth. For whom, every day, his friends would engage in an act of mercy that helped him to survive. Carrying him to a place where there were people. Where he could beg the passersby to drop just a few coins in his cup. And, then, Peter and John see him. One has to wonder why they never noticed him before. But, our text says, they “stared” at him. Perhaps, for the first time, empowered by the Holy Spirit, they truly saw him. And, then, they engaged in an act of mercy that was way beyond the previous boundaries. Way beyond the imagination of the man’s friends and what they had done.  “Look at us!” Peter said to him. “Look at us! You are worthy to make eye contact with us. You, who have suffered for years, you deserve to be healed. And then, purely with the gift of healing given to him by the Holy Spirit and in the name of Jesus Christ, Peter heals him. No joke.

Sisters and brothers, you and I are called to do this same work. You and I, like Peter and John, have been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit, to be the “how” of the kingdom of God. To notice those in our hurting world and to engage in acts of mercy, whatever they may be. But, not to stop there. To invite them to look at you, so that you, too, like Peter and John, might witness to the “why.” Why you do these acts of mercy. And why is that? Because we have a God who loves us, who comes to be with us, to be like us, to experience the whole of the human experience, from the trivial irritations of family life to the isolation of pandemic life, from lack of money to the worst horrors of pain and humiliation, of defeat, of despair, and of death. And, then, to free us from it all: from sin, from the power of evil, and from death.

So that we, like the man in our story, who experienced healing after years of suffering, might jump up for joy. Walking, leaping, and praising God. And inviting others to experience that same joy. No joke.

Knock! Knock! Who’s There?
Howl. Howl who? Howl you know if you don’t open the door?

Go. Open the door and go. Be the “how” of the kingdom of God. Amen.

Preached online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY, on April 26, 2020.
Easter 3
Readings: Acts 1:1-14, 3:1-10; Mark 6:7-13; Psalm 47

God's Triumph: The Church at Home - Holy

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
    Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

It was two days before the Passover and the festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him; for they said, “Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.”

While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” --Mark 11:1-11; 14:3-9 (NRSV)

In all of scripture, to anoint - to engage in the act of anointing - occurs at three different occasions.

First, as we heard in both our readings from 1 Samuel and Psalm 20, the act of anointing happens when a new king is crowned. Perhaps, that’s how it is being used here. After all, we just heard the story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey - the way in which all of Israel’s kings would have begun their reign.

And then there’s the cry of the people, as Jesus enters the city. They cry out, “Hosanna!” Hosanna. This complex word with a double meaning. Praise Him! And...save us! So, at first blush, this anointing by this unnamed woman in our text must be the signal that there is a new king for Israel. And a new kingdom. 

A second occasion in which one is anointed comes out of the deep Jewish tradition of hospitality. A tradition in which no expense is spared in caring for one’s guest. Perhaps this is the occasion here. After all, this unnamed woman anoints Jesus with oil that has cost her a year’s salary. It is an extravagant gesture on her part. So extravagant that, in fact, the other guests become critical. “Couldn’t she have sold the oil and given the money to the poor?” they exclaim. After all, in another gospel, we learn that the amount of money she has spent on this sweetly perfumed ointment would have fed a population of 7,500 poor - the equivalent of seven months of food for our food pantry. Yet, Jesus acclaims her. And her extravagant devotion. To him.

Then, there’s the third occasion for anointing. Which is for burial. Where family members - mostly women - gather together. And lovingly wash their dead. And then rub beautifully scented oils into the body of their loved one. For the last time. 

This is how Jesus views the act of this unnamed woman. One who remains unnamed in our story and yet, as Jesus has promised, has now been acclaimed for over 2,000 years. Jesus views her extravagant act as the preparation for his burial. Which will take place after his own extravagant act.  An extravagant act of humility and sacrifice. An extravagant act of acquiescence and obedience.  An extravagant act of love. For you. And me. And for all people.

In this time of pandemic, as we are all re-examining our priorities and shedding those that no longer seem right, and as we move into this holiest of weeks, may we once again hear the story of God’s extravagant act of love in Christ. And may we, like the unnamed woman, respond with our own act of extravagant devotion. Amen.

Preached April 5, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Passion/Palm Sunday

Readings: Mark 11:1-11; 14:3-9; 1 Samuel 10:1; Psalm 20:6-9

The Ways of the Kingdom: Service

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” Matthew 25:31-46 (NRSV)

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

Which side are you on now?

Which side are you on?

Which side are you on now?

Which side are you on?

If you are a native Kentuckian, you may recognize this song. Maybe even if you aren’t a native Kentuckian. It was written on night in 1931 in Harlan County, KY. In 1931, the mine workers and the mine owners in this southeastern county in Kentucky were locked in a bitter and violent struggle called the Harlan County War. In an attempt to intimidate the family of Sam Reece, who was a union organizer for the mine workers’ union, the sheriff of the county and his men, who were hired by the mining company, entered their home in search of him. Now Mr. Reece had been warned ahead of time and had escaped, but his wife, Florence, and their children had remained. They were terrorized in their own home. That night, after the sheriff and his men left, Mrs. Reece tore a page off a calendar that hung in their kitchen and she wrote the lyrics for the song. Tradition has it that the tune is from an old Baptist hymn.

This song would go on to be used in nearly every major protest movement in our country. In the fight for workers’ rights. In the civil rights movement. In the women’s movement. In the fight for gay and lesbian rights. In the anti-war protests of Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. Even in today’s Poor People’s Campaign, a campaign that seeks to renew the original campaign started by Martin Luther King, Jr.. 

This song is a song that challenges us. To make a decision about which side we will choose. Whether we will stand on the side of those with power. Or on the side of those with no power. 

In the same way, our text today is a story of sides. And of choices. We are in the portion of Matthew that is called the Eschatological Discourse - a discussion about the end times. About Jesus’ second coming. In Matthew, this discourse between Jesus and disciples begins with one question asked by the disciples at the beginning of chapter 24. It is asked by them in response to a comment made by Jesus in the temple - that no stone in the temple would remain. That everything will be demolished. This makes the disciples wonder. So, later, they come to Jesus privately and ask the question: “Tell us, when will these things happen? What will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?”

In response to this question, Jesus describes the signs in heaven and on earth that will precede the end. Then, Jesus goes on to stress that no one knows the day or the hour, not even him. And that, while the disciples wait, they should remain vigilant, ready for Christ’s return. 

Jesus goes on, then, as he often does in Matthew, to illustrate his point through the use of parables. Four parables. Last week, we heard one of the four. The Parable of the Talents (The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids). Today, we hear the last of the four. The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats.

The main character in our parable is that of a king. A monarch. One who will sit on his throne before all of the nations with all people gathered in front of him. And, then, just like a shepherd in ancient days, the king will separate the people. Setting them apart in two groups. The sheep on one side. And the goats on the other.  

Notice that, in this parable, Jesus, as he often does, makes use of everyday things. In today’s lesson, it’s about shepherding practices. It would have been common knowledge in ancient times that a shepherd tending a herd of goats and sheep would separate the two at night. During the day, they would graze together. But, at night, they would be separated because sheep prefer to spend the night in the open air. And goats, well, they like the warmth of a shelter. Plus, goats could be trouble-makers at times. So, at night, the shepherd would separate them. 

It would also be a common understanding that sheep were more valuable than goats. Not only did they provide food, they also provided wool, milk for cheese, and other products. They were also used more than any other animal for sacrifice in the temple.

So the king separates the nations like sheep and goat. The sheep to the right. The goats to the left. The King will turn to those on his right. (In ancient days, to be placed at the right hand of a king meant that you were in the king’s favor. One of the chosen ones. Set apart.) So, the king will turn and say to those on his right, “Come and receive the blessings you have inherited from my Father.” They have not been placed there because of their superior knowledge of scripture. Or their exceptional spiritual gifts. But, because they have shown mercy and compassion to the hungry. To the thirsty. To the stranger. The naked. The sick. The imprisoned. That in serving those on the edges of society - the marginalized - they have been unknowingly serving the king.

Those on the right. The righteous. Do you notice that they are completely unaware of what they have done? They have not been acting in a calculated way to earn the king’s favor. But, they have simply been doing what is natural for them. They have responded to God’s gift of grace by serving those in need. They will be gathered with the king and be given unending life.

And, then, there are those on the left. Those who are not in the king’s favor. Those with whom the king is displeased. Like those on the right, they, too, have been doing what is natural for them. They have been looking out for their own interests. They have not been bothered by the needs of others. They, too, like those on the right, are also surprised to learn that they have encountered the king. In the marginalized and the powerless. And, in their encounter with them - with the “least of these,” they have shown which side they are on. They are cast away from the king. Into the darkness. Into unending fire. Into eternal punishment. Just as the unfaithful servant, the foolish bridesmaids, and the unfaithful servant. 

Sisters and brothers, this can be a difficult parable for us. This discourse on end times. On Jesus’ second coming. On the judgment of the world. It is not something we like to think about. Yet, this parable is a fitting conclusion for our learning about the ways of God’s kingdom. Because, if there is no final judgment in God’s kingdom, that means that God does not care about the injustice and the suffering in our world.

But, God does care. God cares about it so much that, beginning in the very next chapter, we will see how Jesus bore this injustice and brokenness and suffering in his own body. To triumph over it. To defeat evil and death. As a ransom for all nations. As a ransom for us. For me. And for you.

Yet, even as Christ is now raised from the dead, highly exalted, and seated far above rule and authority, Jesus is not apart from us. Jesus is not distant and aloof. Jesus meets us here. In the bread and the wine, in his body and blood. Jesus meets us here in our brokenness. And continues to transform us. So that we might go out into the world and meet Jesus in the faces of the broken and powerless. In the needs of our suffering world.

Today we are commemorating the 25th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide. It was a time when those in power in that country murdered over 10% of their population, simply because they were of a different ethnic group. 

So, which side are you on? Are you on the side of the powerful? Or the powerless? Are you on the side of the transformed, those who seek to live lives of service to those who have no power in response to God’s radical gift of grace? Or on the side of those who aren’t, who live in the selfish ways of the world, in the ways of their own interest instead of the ways of God’s kingdom? 

May God work in us to choose the side of the weak and the powerless. To live in the ways of God’s kingdom. Ways of forgiveness, generosity, and hospitality. Ways of vigilance and trustworthiness. And, particularly in the way of service. In God’s way of service. A  way that is so desperately needed by our broken world. May God grant it.  Amen. 

Preached April 7, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Readings: Matthew 25:31-46, Psalm 98:7-9