God Sightings: Jonah

Our story today is about Jonah. Jonah was a prophet of God to the people of the northern kingdom of Israel. 

Let’s just say that Jonah is not the best prophet. 

The only other place in scripture where we meet him is in 2nd Kings under the reign of Jeroboam II, one of the worst kings in the history of Israel. Here, Jonah prophecies in Jeroboam’s favor, promising that he will win a battle against the Assyrians and regain all this territory on Israel’s northern border. This is contradicted by God through the Prophet Amos, who challenges Jonah's prophecy and promises that Jeroboam will be overthrown by God because he is such a horrible king.

Let’s just say that Jonah is not the best prophet.

As today’s story opens, God is calling Jonah to go into the heart of Assyria, Israel’s enemies to the north. And to go to Nineveh, the capital of Assyria, to call the people there to repentance.

We read in Jonah, chapter 1.

The Lord’s word came to Jonah, Amittai’s son: “Get up and go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it, for their evil has come to my attention.”

So Jonah got up—to flee to Tarshish from the Lord! 

He went down to Joppa and found a ship headed for Tarshish. He paid the fare and went aboard to go with them to Tarshish, away from the Lord.

But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, so that there was a great storm on the sea; the ship looked like it might be broken to pieces. The sailors were terrified, and each one cried out to his god. 

They hurled the cargo that was in the ship into the sea to make it lighter.

Now Jonah had gone down into the hold of the vessel to lie down and was deep in sleep. The ship’s officer came and said to him, “How can you possibly be sleeping so deeply? Get up! Call on your god! Perhaps the god will give some thought to us so that we won’t perish.”

Meanwhile, the sailors said to each other, “Come on, let’s cast lots so that we might learn who is to blame for this evil that’s happening to us.” They cast lots, and the lot fell on Jonah. So they said to him, “Tell us, since you’re the cause of this evil happening to us: What do you do and where are you from? What’s your country and of what people are you?”

He said to them, “I’m a Hebrew. I worship the Lord, the God of heaven—who made the sea and the dry land.”

Then the men were terrified and said to him, “What have you done?” (The men knew that Jonah was fleeing from the Lord, because he had told them.)

They said to him, “What will we do about you so that the sea will become calm around us?” (The sea was continuing to rage.)

He said to them, “Pick me up and hurl me into the sea! Then the sea will become calm around you. I know it’s my fault that this great storm has come upon you.”

The men rowed to reach dry land, but they couldn’t manage it because the sea continued to rage against them. So they called on the Lord, saying, “Please, Lord, don’t let us perish on account of this man’s life, and don’t blame us for innocent blood! You are the Lord: whatever you want, you can do.”

Then they picked up Jonah and hurled him into the sea, and the sea ceased its raging. The men worshipped the Lord with a profound reverence; they offered a sacrifice to the Lord and made solemn promises.

Meanwhile, the Lord provided a great fish to swallow Jonah. Jonah was in the belly of the fish for three days and three nights. --Jonah 1:1-17 (CEB)

What the heck was Jonah thinking? That he could get away from God? We’ve talked before about the relentlessness of God. When God has a plan, there is no getting away, no escaping from God. 

Here, God has a plan. A plan of salvation. A plan to save the people - or at least to attempt to save - the people of Nineveh. That great capital of Assyria. Israel’s most hated enemy to the north. 

What the heck was Jonah thinking? 

My guess is that, in part, he was terrified of going into Assyria and of “calling out” the people of Nineveh. Telling these evil pagans to repent of their sins. 

The irony of this first chapter of Jonah is that, as Jonah is attempting to escape God’s call to convert the pagan people of Nineveh, Jonah ends up converting the pagan sailors. By the end of this chapter, they are worshipping God for what they have seen. Their God sighting has changed them.

And Jonah? The chapter has ended with him in the belly of a great fish. With time to think. By the end of the second chapter, Jonah has repented. Sort of. 

In the closing lines of his prayer of repentance at the end of chapter 2, Jonah prays, “When my endurance was weakening, I remembered the LORD, and my prayer came to you, to your holy temple. Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy. But me, I will offer a sacrifice to you with a voice of thanks.”

“Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy.” Remember these words. As we continue in chapter 3.

Then the Lord spoke to the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto the dry land.

The Lord’s word came to Jonah a second time: “Get up and go to Nineveh, that great city, and declare against it the proclamation that I am commanding you.” And Jonah got up and went to Nineveh, according to the Lord’s word. 

(Now Nineveh was indeed an enormous city, a three days’ walk across.)

Jonah started into the city, walking one day, and he cried out, “Just forty days more and Nineveh will be overthrown!” And the people of Nineveh believed God. They proclaimed a fast and put on mourning clothes, from the greatest of them to the least significant.

When word of it reached the king of Nineveh, he got up from his throne, stripped himself of his robe, covered himself with mourning clothes, and sat in ashes. Then he announced, “In Nineveh, by decree of the king and his officials: Neither human nor animal, cattle nor flock, will taste anything! No grazing and no drinking water! Let humans and animals alike put on mourning clothes, and let them call upon God forcefully! And let all persons stop their evil behavior and the violence that’s under their control!” He thought, Who knows? God may see this and turn from his wrath, so that we might not perish.

God saw what they were doing—that they had ceased their evil behavior. So God stopped planning to destroy them, and he didn’t do it. --Jonah 3:1-10 (CEB)

One day. One day is all it took for Nineveh to repent. Jonah wasn’t even able to finish his walk across the city - a three-day walk - before Nineveh repented. But it wasn’t just the people of Nineveh who repented. Their king, on hearing the word of Jonah’s prophecy, put on mourning clothes and sat in ashes - a dramatic sign of his own repentance. And leadership. Then, he issued a decree that, not only would the people repent, the animals would, too! The entire city and everything and everyone in it. This wayward prophet, this not-so-great man of God has, once again, almost unintentionally, converted an entire pagan city.

Our reading continues in chapter 4.

But Jonah thought this was utterly wrong, and he became angry. He prayed to the Lord, “Come on, Lord! Wasn’t this precisely my point when I was back in my own land? This is why I fled to Tarshish earlier! I know that you are a merciful and compassionate God, very patient, full of faithful love, and willing not to destroy. At this point, Lord, you may as well take my life from me, because it would be better for me to die than to live.”

The Lord responded, “Is your anger a good thing?”

But Jonah went out from the city and sat down east of the city. There he made himself a hut and sat under it, in the shade, to see what would happen to the city.

Then the Lord God provided a shrub, and it grew up over Jonah, providing shade for his head and saving him from his misery. Jonah was very happy about the shrub. But God provided a worm the next day at dawn, and it attacked the shrub so that it died. Then as the sun rose God provided a dry east wind, and the sun beat down on Jonah’s head so that he became faint. 

He begged that he might die, saying, “It’s better for me to die than to live.”

God said to Jonah, “Is your anger about the shrub a good thing?”

Jonah said, “Yes, my anger is good—even to the point of death!”

But the Lord said, “You ‘pitied’ the shrub, for which you didn’t work and which you didn’t raise; it grew in a night and perished in a night. Yet for my part, can’t I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than one hundred twenty thousand people who can’t tell their right hand from their left, and also many animals?” --Jonah 4:1-11 (CEB)

“Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy.” Remember those words? 

Although it’s hard to tell exactly from our text, it would seem that Jonah’s anger is less about the shriveled shrub and more about God’s mercy on the pagan people of Nineveh. 

“Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy.” That’s what Jonah prayed, wasn’t it? 

Don’t we pray this, too? That those people who follow other gods, who don’t think the way we do, who don’t vote the way we do, who “follow worthless things” lose their chance for mercy? 

We, in this country, have just gone through an election. Elections are, by their very nature, divisive. This one even more so. In this election period, as we, myself included, have demonized those who have different opinions than we, demeaned those who have supported a different candidate than ours, disparaged those whom we have identified as followers of "worthless things" (or candidates), aren’t we a little like Jonah? Self-righteous? Sanctimonious? Holier than thou?

Perhaps we need a leader to call our whole nation to repentance. 

We have a such a leader who calls us to repentance. Who sees the bigger picture and has a broader plan. Who has created all people in his own image. And who acts compassionately and with great patience that all people (and not just us) might receive redemption.

We have such a leader in God, whose knowledge is so far beyond us and whose acts of love extend way beyond our own imagination. Who has redeemed us through God’s very own Son, Jesus Christ.

May we follow our leader as the people of Nineveh followed theirs. May we repent of our thinking, like Jonah’s, that others are beyond God’s redemptive powers. And may we, as the church, freed in Christ, find a way to emulate the same acts of love and mercy in our deeply divided world.

May God grant this, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

Preached Sunday, November 8, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 24

Readings: Jonah 1:1-17, 3:1-10, 4:1-11; Luke 18:13

The Call to Serve: The Eye of the Needle

As Jesus continued down the road, a man ran up, knelt before him, and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to obtain eternal life?”

Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except the one God. You know the commandments: Don’t commit murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t give false testimony. Don’t cheat. Honor your father and mother.”

“Teacher,” he responded, “I’ve kept all of these things since I was a boy.”

Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. He said, “You are lacking one thing. Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come, follow me.” But the man was dismayed at this statement and went away saddened, because he had many possessions.

Looking around, Jesus said to his disciples, “It will be very hard for the wealthy to enter God’s kingdom!” His words startled the disciples, so Jesus told them again, “Children, it’s difficult to enter God’s kingdom! It’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom.”

They were shocked even more and said to each other, “Then who can be saved?”

Jesus looked at them carefully and said, “It’s impossible with human beings, but not with God. All things are possible for God.”

Peter said to him, “Look, we’ve left everything and followed you.”

Jesus said, “I assure you that anyone who has left house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms because of me and because of the good news will receive one hundred times as much now in this life—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and farms (with harassment)—and in the coming age, eternal life. But many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first.”

--Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)

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

I have an honest question for you. Over my past few sermons have I seemed just a little angry to you? If you said no, I’d say you were being too kind. If you said yes, I would have to agree with you. 

There are just times - perhaps you’ve experienced them, too - when I just feel angry at the world. Maybe it’s the political situation. Maybe it’s the research and study I’ve been doing these past few weeks, as I’ve been learning about the ways we have damaged our environment. Maybe it’s the weather, as I long for warmer days and sunshine. Maybe it’s just life in general.  

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s these darn disciples in Mark. Do they frustrate you like they frustrate me? They always seem so clueless. Even though Jesus is standing right in front of them. There are times when I want to reach into Scripture and just shake them and say, “Wake up, you idiots! Wake up!”

But I’ve learned from experience that, most often, when I am angry at the world, it’s often not because of what is happening externally. Instead, it’s usually my own stuff. Things that are going on internally. Remember what Jesus said to the disciples and to us just a few weeks ago? That evil things don’t come from the outside, but that they begin inside and contaminate us.

But, more on this in a few minutes. Let’s turn to today’s story.

It’s important that we understand the structure of this part of Mark. Last week, we heard Peter’s confession that Jesus was the Christ. I mentioned that, just before this lesson, there is a healing by Jesus. Of a man who is blind. It takes Jesus two tries to heal this man. 

Immediately after, we have the story we heard last week - of Peter’s confession. It’s at this point that Jesus begins to teach the disciples about what will happen to him. To begin to help them understand “why” Jesus, the Christ, has come to earth. And to cement Jesus’ teaching, he is transfigured on the mountain and the voice from heaven speaks to the disciples, telling them to listen to Jesus.

But, still, they don’t get it. Like the blind man, they don’t understand on the first try. Or even the second. Because, this past Wednesday, we heard the story of the disciples and their argument on the road headed to Jerusalem. The argument about which one of them is the best!  And we heard Jesus’ response - that whoever wants to be first in the kingdom of God, must be last. Then, to illustrate his point, Jesus takes a child in his arms and says to them that God's kingdom belongs to people like these. Like children. Who, as we learned, in Jesus’ day had no status at all and were likely to die before reaching adulthood.

This story immediately precedes our story today. Jesus is walking on the road to Jerusalem. Suddenly, a man runs up, asking what must he do to inherit eternal life. He seems respectful and sincere, even when Jesus tells him - good Jew that Jesus is - that he must keep the entire law. And we hear the man respond that he has kept all of it since he was a boy. He seems truly sincere. 

It’s at this point, that I’m always blown away by Jesus’ response. In verse 21. “Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. We’ve heard Jesus rebuke the disciples when they didn’t get it. One has to wonder why Jesus doesn’t unload on this fellow. But, for some reason, Jesus just looks at him intently. And then he loves him.

It’s pretty convicting, isn’t it? At least, it is for me. Especially as I’ve been so angry at these disciples, who just seem to get it. It reminds me of the times when I would get frustrated with my son growing up, when he just wouldn’t get things either. And I’d scold him. Then, he’d look at me with such a hurt look on his face that I often ended up apologizing to him and picking him up, then, and hugging him. But, Jesus? He looks at the man and he loves him.

I’ve been reading a book titled “30 Day Journey With St. Hildegard of Bingen.” Hildegard was a female Christian leader in the medieval church, one of several who we today call the Medieval Mystics. She received visions from God and, eventually, wrote extensively about them, also founding an abbey for nuns in Bingen, Germany. She became very famous and corresponded with bishops and popes and even the major political leaders of her day. I’ve read some of her writing before and picked up this book especially because many of her themes relate to creation and to things in the natural world. So, I thought it would be a good way for me to prepare for our Lenten conversations around this same topic.

Earlier this week, I read an excerpt from a letter she wrote in the late 12th century. In it she refers to a world suffering from “already festering wounds” that is in dire need of healing. And that, if you apply scourges (a scourge is generally understood as a whip used to punish). If you apply scourges to an already festering wound, all you will do is bring forth poison mixed with blood. But to show mercy is to simply refrain from applying more scourges. 

Isn’t this what Jesus is doing to this man? He could easily have applied scourges to this man. Shaming him for his unwillingness to put Jesus first in his life by giving up all of his wealth to the poor. But, he doesn’t. Instead, Jesus looks at him intently. And loves him.

How often do we apply “scourges” to “already festering wounds” in our world today? A world that seems to be hurting so deeply, witnessed in part by the large number of mass shootings this year, one this past week. How often in a world that seems to be walking wounded do we respond like Jesus simply with love? I think it’s no accident that today’s story is preceded by the story of the little children. Because children have no wealth. They have no power. They have no advantage in our world. Yet, in the subversiveness of God’s world, their advantage is their helplessness. To not be possessed by those things that end up wounding us. Those things that lead us away from life. Instead, in their helplessness they simply believe. And trust. And love. 

Because, ultimately, it’s not our wealth that makes it hard to get into heaven. It’s our unwillingness to give up the things of this world that possess us, that draw us away from God. That keep us from passing through the eye of the needle.

So, what was making me so angry over these past few weeks. It’s because, in preparing my sermons, I myself was completely convicted. I like the disciples saw, but failed to perceive. Heard, but did not understand. Refused to allow my blind eyes to be opened. 

But, that’s the thing about Jesus. If his healing act doesn’t work the first time, he keeps trying it until our eyes are opened. Because, just as Jesus looked at the rich man, he looks at us. And loves us. And never gives up on us.

In this discipline of Lent, may we practice showing this same mercy to a world with festering wounds. By sacrificing. By loving. By trusting. Because Jesus promises that our childlike discipleship will not be futile. No matter how hard it may be. 

“Many who are first will be last. And the last will be first.” Amen.

Preached March 1, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Lent 1
Readings: Mark 10:17-31, Deuteronomy 8:11-14, Psalm 19:7-10

Our Sin, God's Faithfulness: God, Parent, Metaphor

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

We’ve been reading about prophets recently as they have participated in the stories of Israel. Last week, for example, we heard about the Prophet Elijah. Today, we’re moving into a section of scripture that is written by and about the prophets themselves. Take out, if you will, one of the pew Bibles in front of you and turn to the Table of Contents. The Hebrew Bible, or the Old Testament, isn’t organized chronologically in date order, but by the type of writing in each book. This past fall, we read our first lessons from the first group of books. These first books are called...anyone? The Torah. Or the Law. Or the Instruction. Or, sometimes, the Books of Moses. Anyone remember how many books are in the Torah? Yes, there are five.

The next group of books are the Histories. They begin with the Book of Joshua and extend to the book of Esther. Why do you think they are called the Histories? That’s right, they tell the history of the Israelites, as they settled into the Promised Land, then how the kingdom was first unified and then divided. They close with the time of exile, when first the northern kingdom - Israel - and then the southern kingdom - Judah - were conquered by other empires.  

After the Histories come the Wisdom books. There are five of these. Let’s name them: Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs or Solomon.

Finally, the rest of the Hebrew scriptures are the writings of the Prophets. The first five books are what we call the Major prophets. We call them this because they are longer and their prophecies are broader and more far-reaching. The remaining books are called the Minor prophets, because they are shorter and their prophecies are more specific to their context or their situation. So, if the first five are the major prophets, which book is the first of the minor prophets? Hosea. Who is the prophet we are reading from today. Look for the page on which Hosea begins. Then, open to Hosea and find Chapter 11. Follow along as I read verses 1-9. 

When Israel was a child, I loved him,
    and out of Egypt I called my son.
The more I called them,
    the more they went from me;
they kept sacrificing to the Baals,
    and offering incense to idols.

Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk,
    I took them up in my arms;
    but they did not know that I healed them.
I led them with cords of human kindness,
    with bands of love.
I was to them like those
    who lift infants to their cheeks.
    I bent down to them and fed them.

They shall return to the land of Egypt,
    and Assyria shall be their king,
    because they have refused to return to me.
The sword rages in their cities,
    it consumes their oracle-priests,
    and devours because of their schemes.
My people are bent on turning away from me.
    To the Most High they call,
    but he does not raise them up at all.

How can I give you up, Ephraim?
    How can I hand you over, O Israel?
How can I make you like Admah?
    How can I treat you like Zeboiim?
My heart recoils within me;
    my compassion grows warm and tender.
I will not execute my fierce anger;
    I will not again destroy Ephraim;
for I am God and no mortal,
    the Holy One in your midst,
    and I will not come in wrath. --Hosea 11:1-9 (NRSV)

One of my favorite things about social media are the photos and stories shared by friends and family that include their children. Some of my friends have children that are still quite small; others have children who are grown. Yet, no matter the age, they are, to their parents, still their kids.

Raising (or really, the proper term is rearing) children can be the most amazing experience. It can also be the hardest. Our kids start out small and helpless. We can’t wait until they can learn to crawl or to walk. And, then, when they do, we’re horrified about what they do and get into. Or, we work with them over and over to say words, to name things, to talk. And then, when they reach that point at about 2 or 3 where we pray that, for just a minute or two, they will be quiet. Or we’re terrified about what they might actually say in public.

There’s a story about parents who taught their daughter to always compliment people who insulted her. So, one day, as the family was out shopping, a stranger said something rude to the mom. Her daughter caught on that her mom was angry. So, she popped out in front of her mom and said to the woman who had been so rude, “Your teeth are such a pretty yellow!”

We try so hard to teach our children important lessons. We set boundaries around them to protect them. We constantly talk to them about hard things that happen at school or on the sports field to help them learn or, perhaps, consider a better way of doing things. It’s like the man who wanted to teach his son the value of money and a work ethic because he kept wanting  Robux, which is virtual currency to purchase special abilities in the Roblox video game (I only know this from my experiences with my own son who is a gamer!). So, he created a chore chart and gave each household chore a value. Then, they established a schedule together. It was working wonderfully! Every day his son did what he was supposed to do without having to be told: washing dishes, cleaning up his room, picking up dog poop. And on and on. It was epic!

Then, one day, the man came home and nothing had been done. He confronted his son. “Hey, man, what’s up with the dishes? Go wash them. Oh, and while you’re at it, don’t forget to pickup the dog poop in the backyard. He son looked at him, as only a child can look at a parent, and said, “Nah. I made enough Robux to get what I wanted. So, I’m good now.”

Sometimes the lessons we try to teach our children backfire on us. And, then, we’re the ones learning the lesson.

Today’s passage in Hosea 11 is a passage that every parent can relate to. We set those boundaries for our children and then watch in agony as they push through them. Or we feel the wounds going deep in our hearts when we hear our child say for the first time, “I hate you.” How can this child, whom we have cared for, for whom we have provided every need, for whom we have lost sleep over, for whom we have cleaned up, coddled and kissed - how can this child do this or say this to us? How can they break our hearts like this?

God, as Israel’s parent, is in the very same position. Israel is that willful child - that rebellious child - that pushes against the boundaries God has set for them, just as our toddlers and then our teenagers do. Even worse, Israel has seemingly rejected all of the values and traditions that God has taught them, that God has shared with them. Israel is oppressing the poor. Israel is worshiping other gods now. Israel is ignoring God, going back to Egypt who enslaved her for support. She goes to Assyria’s king for aid, even though he doesn’t have her best interests at heart. 

God looks at Israel - God’s own child - just as we look at our own children as they sleep and wonder how they can do this. How, after we have loved them, taught them to walk, took them in our arms, healed them, led them with kindness, with love. Lifted them up as babies and held them against our cheeks as we smelled their sweet smell. Or bent down to feed them. How can they do this? And, for just a moment in Hosea, we get a glimpse of God’s deep suffering. A glimpse of the suffering that God experiences when we rebel. When we ignore God. When we walk away.

Israel will, of course, realize the consequences of her choices. Her identity will be torn apart by her choices. She will be broken and battered. She will not be safe from the sword. Violence will consume all of her people. 

And God’s heart will be broken.

If it were you or I, we might just walk away. “Enough!” we might say in agony. “Enough of this! I’ve done everything I can. There’s nothing more I can do.” This might be our very valid and human response. 

But, this is not God’s response. Because God’s mercy runs hot. God’s love runs deep. God will never refuse the child. God will welcome Israel back with warmth and tenderness. Even when the child expects to be condemned by God, that is not what they will receive. Instead, they will receive an invitation. A welcome home. And a reminder that they are a beloved child of God.

We, too, are beloved children of God. Even when we rebel, when we ignore God, when we walk away and we suffer the consequence of our own sinful choices or of a world that is so fully broken, we know that this is not God’s plan. That we should be harmed. That we should hurt. That we should suffer. No matter how far we have strayed. No matter what we have done or what has been done to us. We are like Israel, God’s beloved child. God’s heart beats for us. God’s love is never ending. There is nothing we can do to change this. So, come home. Live with God. 

“For I am God and no mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.”

Welcome home, beloved of God! Amen.

Preached Sunday, November 10, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 22
Readings: Hosea 11:1-9, Mark 10:13-14, Psalm 2

Learning to Follow: The Third Pig

“Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye.

“Do not give what is holy to dogs; and do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under foot and turn and maul you.

“Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.

“Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it. 

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell—and great was its fall!”

Now when Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes.  Matthew 7:1-14, 24-29 (NRSV)


Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator; Christ, our Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit, our Sustainer. Amen.

It happened when I was in fifth grade. We got a new student in class. A new girl, named Audrey. Now, in most schools that’s probably not a very big deal. But, in a small town, where everyone knows everyone else, like my hometown, this didn’t happen very often.

Audrey and I disliked each other from the start. Has that ever happened to you? Whether it’s a personality thing or whatever it is, we rubbed each the wrong way from the very beginning. To make matters worse, not only did we have to spend the entire school day in the same room with each other, but, we also rode the same bus to and from school each day.

Our dislike for each other escalated throughout the first two weeks of school, reaching a climax one day in the girls’ bathroom, which was located right beside our fifth grade classroom. Audrey and I got into a shouting match over something. (I have no memory of how it started.) We grew more and more angry with each other, until, at one point, Audrey reached up her hand and slapped me across the face.

I was completely stunned. But, that didn’t stop me from reacting. I reached up my hand, then, and slapped her across the face. By this point, our teacher, Mrs. Daczewitz, had heard the shouts coming from the bathroom and she rushed in. 

Now, Mrs. Daczewitz was a very experienced teacher. By the time I reached her classroom, she had taught in our elementary school for well over 35 years. She knew that she could punish us for our behavior, which was pretty inexcusable.  But, I think, she knew that punishment wouldn’t necessarily solve the conflict between Audrey and I. So, as a consequence for our poor behavior, she mandated that, for a week beginning with the time Audrey and I got on the bus in the morning to the time we got off the bus in the afternoon, we had to spend every moment with each other. Every. Single. Moment.

You see, Mrs. Daczewitz was not only an experienced teacher, but she was also very wise. She knew that most often the things we dislike in others are the things we dislike about ourselves. So, when we meet someone who has the same qualities that we dislike in ourselves, it’s like looking in a mirror. And we don’t like it.

This week’s lesson from Matthew, chapter 7, is the last of our three lessons from the famous teaching of Jesus we call the "Sermon on the Mount." If you recall, we spent the first week talking about what God’s reign looks like. About who are the priority in God’s kingdom. And about how this reign is completely reversed from the world’s priority.

Then, last week, we talked about relationships. That God’s reign is built on relationships and, first, that it begins with our relationship with God. A relationship that is constructed on spiritual disciplines, with the most important one being that of prayer. Of talking with God. Of seeking God out. In our own, often simple words. And of listening for God.

This week, we continue that theme of relationship. Of how important relationship is in God’s reign. Particularly, today, our relationship with others. You see, God’s kingdom is made up of both vertical and horizontal relationship. Vertical - meaning our back and forth relationship with God. And horizontal. Meaning our back and forth relationship with others. 

In the first part of today’s reading, the focus is on our own self-deception. We deceive ourselves by believing that we are better than others. It’s the same kind of self-deception Audrey and I were engaged with in our own little spat. 

In the opening words of the reading, Jesus says, “Do not judge.” Warren Carter, a New Testament professor at Brite Divinity School has studied and written extensively on Matthew. He suggests that this common translation is neither accurate, nor helpful. Because, as he writes, we have to make judgments every day in our lives. We would be in trouble if we did not make judgment or discernment about various people, situations, and actions. So, when Jesus says, “Do not judge” - this is an impossible ethic for us.  In addition, in previous chapters, Jesus himself has judged things: synagogue practices, Gentile prayer, and lives that are focused on material goods. 

Carter suggests that a better translation is to use the word “condemn.” That, instead of the phrase being translated as “do not judge,” it is better translated, “do not go on condemning to hell.” It is meant to address various situations that involve other people - situations in which we have a tendency to write off others as beyond redemption. As outside of God’s grace. As people who should be confined to hell. People with whom we are in conflict. Or intolerant of because of differences, or prejudice, or disgust, or anger, and the like. Jesus’ command in this first verse forbids the arrogance of denying someone mercy. Particularly, of declaring that someone is beyond God’s mercy.

It’s easy to deceive ourselves about others with whom we are in conflict. To think we need to pluck out the splinter in someone else’s eye, when, as our text says, we have a log in our own. 

"Do unto others as we would have others do unto you," our text tells us. "Love your neighbor as yourself," Jesus will say later on in Matthew. The Golden Rule. How much do we hear this espoused in today’s world? So much that it has become an ethic to live by that is completely disconnected from its context here in the Word. Because, this Rule provides a vision of discipleship that is shaped by God’s grace in commissioning Jesus to show and to be the example of God’s saving presence. This Golden Rule cannot be disconnected from the life of Jesus. And from Jesus’ death. It is a rule that was initiated with God’s movement downward. To us. And for us. Freeing us from the guilt and shame of our sin and failure. Thereby, freeing us to love without abandon our neighbor as our self.


And then we come to pigs. You’re probably wondering what’s going on today with me and pigs. It started with this Valentine gram that came in the mail from ELCA World Hunger. “Hogs ‘n kisses.” More on that later. After this, then, it seemed that every time I turned around, I was being bombarded by pigs. Today’s reading talks about swine. This past Tuesday was the beginning of the Chinese New Year. Yep, you guessed it. It’s the Year of the Pig. Pigs all over the place. And, then, I got to the last verses of our text. The comparison of the wise builder and the foolish builder. The wise builder who builds his or her house on rock. Compared to the foolish builder, who builds on sand. So, of course, what should come to mind, but the story of “The Three Little Pigs!”

I have to admit, I had to look it up. Because, it’s been a long time since I read it. Can you help me tell the story?

It’s a story about three little pigs who decide to seek their fortune and build their houses. The first little pig built his house of...straw. The second built his house of...sticks. The third pig decided to build his house of...bricks, because he wanted to make sure his was a very strong house. When all three were finished, they were very happy.

Then, along came the wolf. He went to the first house - the one made of straw - and he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house down. Then, he went to the second house - the one made of sticks. And, again, he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house down. The wolf went to the third house - the one made of bricks. And he huffed and he puffed. And he huffed and he puffed. And he huffed and he puffed. But, he could not blow the third house down.

The moral of the story? Be like the third pig. Ground your lives in the kingdom of God, the great reversal, that is here and now, and eternal. Ground your lives in Jesus’ teachings in the Sermon on the Mount, that you may have lives of deep relationship with God. And with others. But, mostly, ground your lives in God, who is our very Rock and our Salvation, and upon whom our lives of faith should be built. Amen.

Preached February 10, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Epiphany 5.
Readings: Matthew 7:1-14, 24-29, Psalm 37:16-18.

What Feast of Love!

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the disciples and said, “Take and eat. This is my body.” He took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from this, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many so that their sins may be forgiven. I tell you, I won’t drink wine again until that day when I drink it in a new way with you in my Father’s kingdom.” Matthew 26:26-29 (CEB)

The film, Babette’s Feast, is the story of two sisters, Martina and Philippa. Their father is the founder and pastor of a pious religious community in a coastal town in Denmark. The two sisters have embraced this religion of their father and the community even though in making their choice they have given up their dreams of romance and fame.

All of this changes when they take in a boarder, Babette, from Paris. Babette is a refugee--the result of the French Revolution. Babette becomes their cook. She also becomes their salvation, providing them with better-tasting and healthier meals, all at less expense.

After winning a French lottery, Babette insists on cooking and serving a banquet for the sisters and the religious community in honor of the anniversary of their father’s death. In the scenes leading up to the banquet, the community has dissolved into fractious, petty quarrels. 

Our clip starts tonight in the banquet scene. Let’s watch.

At this Last Supper, where twelve gathered to remember their master, who they were, and what they were to be about, it was the artist--the chef--who called forth the spirit of joy. What had worried them for so long - am I truly forgiven? - was realized anew as the bounty poured from the kitchen. This food was the visible sign of the abundance that they had dared not believe in...How could God ever forgive that sin? Who could ever really know me and still love me? Their faith was ruled by a level of scarcity that was consistent with the harsh land where they lived, the stale bread they were accustomed to eating, the bland soup that usually filled their bowls. Their belief was that their abundance would come in heaven. Not the possibility that this abundance was already in their midst.

The members of community also weren’t surprised by harshness, or regrets, or quarrelsome pettiness. We can often accommodate evil without much trouble. What confounds them--and often us--is goodness or love. It was this gift freely given that disturbed them, that was so unsettling to them. 

This is what the Lord’s Supper is about. If you think it is simply about forgiveness, you miss the complexity, diversity, and richness of this sacrament. Why else do we have so many names for it? Lord’s Supper. Holy Communion. Eucharist, Sacrament of the Altar. 

It is here, at the table, where freedom, joy, and sorrow hang together in a delicate balance. Where we experience each other and the whole church, past, present and future. Where we experience God’s abundance, Christ’s presence, the forgiveness of sins, a deepening of our faith. And it is here, where we hesitantly sit down to feast and here, at the table, where we hold close to the promise of Psalm 85, that here “Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another.”

Amen. 

A Border Story

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”   Luke 17:11-19 (NRSV)


Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.  Amen.

“On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee.” It is with these words that our Gospel lesson begins today. “Through the region between Samaria and Galilee.” The region between. This is our story for today, this 21st Sunday after Pentecost. It is a story of that place between. It is a border story.  

I think it’s different for you all here in Texas, with so much of your southern border a national border between the U.S. and Mexico.  It’s different at this border. 

I grew up on a ranch in north central South Dakota. And, even though we were only about 300 miles away from the border between the U.S. and Canada,  it wasn’t until I moved to Southern California that I really began to be aware of the U.S.-Mexican border and all of the politics surrounding our southern border.

You see, traveling over the border into Canada was never a big deal. Maybe it's because not many people drive through the Dakotas to get to Canada, so lines were never an issue. And security never seemed to be much of an issue either.

It was different at the border between El Cajon and Tijuana. There, even years ago, security seemed tighter and the lines at the border waiting to go through the INS station--which is what ICE was called back then--well, waiting at that southern border, the security lines seemed to be endless. 

I remember my first visit to Mexico one Memorial Day weekend. It took us 6 hours of waiting at the border checkpoint to finally cross back into California. And yet, even though waiting 6 hours could have been horrible, well, instead, it kind of became a party. People parked their cars and were mingling about. Local people from Tijuana were trying to sell pottery, blankets, candy and other goods. Waiting that 6 hours was, believe it or not, kind of fun.

And then, 9/11 happened. And things at the border were much, much different, weren't they? After 9/11, boundaries tightened up dramatically. And, then, cartel violence, which had always been there to some degree, got so much worse and became headline news.  

I remember a few years ago doing work in several cities along the Rio Grande, thinking how much I wanted to drive into Mexico to explore this northeastern part of the country, yet being strongly advised by the people I worked with that it was not safe. Not at all. That, because of the violence, they, themselves, who had so often travelled back and forth across the border, were no longer traveling to Mexico. 

No more sense of community. No more party atmosphere. Only separation. 

Like our southern border today, there was no party atmosphere at the border that separated the Samaritans and the Jews. In fact, there was a history of hostility between these people. 

At one time, they had been one nation. Yet the Babylonian exile and the return of the Jews from captivity had brought about changes and tension. The Samaritans and Jews were at odds about many things--beliefs about scripture, their worship, what it meant to be holy, and on and on. So, one has to wonder why, as our story tells us--why would Jesus be traveling in and among these border villages? On his way to Jerusalem, where he knew he would die, why seemingly tempt fate and put himself at risk, there, along the border?

Well, it’s because for God, there are no borders. The human borders we surround ourselves with, whether they be borders between nations or between people of different ethnic backgrounds or race or color or, even, religion; or borders between genders or generations;, or any other visible or invisible borders we place between ourselves and others--well, for God, they just don’t matter. God’s mercy is offered freely to all people. No borders. No divisions. No human convention about who is inside or outside, even when the outsider is an enemy, real or perceived. There is nothing that limits God’s mercy.

And this was the case in today’s story. As Jesus was entering into one of those small towns along the border, he was approached by ten lepers. Ten men who, by virtue of their disease, were considered contagious. Unclean. Who were banished to the border--a nowhere place where neither Samaritans nor Jews would choose to live, yet the place where these ten lepers, outcast from their communities, could keep their distance according to the law, according to the norms of society.

It was here, in the midst of this nowhere place with this nobody people, that Jesus was at work. Here in this barren borderland, in response to their pleas for mercy, Jesus sends these ten, diseased men on their way to their priest. And, on the way, our text tells us, they were healed. Along the way. Healed of this disease that had been a barrier for them. That had kept them apart from those they loved. That had kept them apart from their community.

And, then, one of them, realizing he has been healed, recognizes the presence of God. And what is his response? Well, he turns back and he offers praise and thanksgiving to the One who has healed him. And, this man, well, our text notes, he was a Samaritan. A foreigner. An outsider. An enemy. 

As he offers thanksgiving to Jesus for his healing, well, the other nine Jews, the ones who should have known better. Who should have gotten who Jesus was. Who should have turned back to offer their own thanks and praise. Whose people, because of their own lack of sight and lack of understanding, ultimately rejected Jesus…. While the other nine Jews continue on, it is the foreigner, the outsider, the enemy, the Samaritan, who is the one who turns back in gratitude. And, it is the Samaritan to whom Jesus says, "Get up and go! Your faith has saved you." Not that his faith has made him well, but that, more accurately, his faith has saved him. Salvation.

This is what God's salvation in Christ Jesus looks like. It is a salvation that restores us and reconciles us back into community, that turns us to see God in our midst, that returns us to worshiping God. It is a return that is focused on God, that recognizes that our God is a God who works in unexpected ways through unexpected people, bringing life where there seems to be no hope. Who turns human expectations and worldly systems upside down and, as is the case in our Gospel story and also in Naaman’s story this morning from 2nd Kings, it is a return that recognizes that God works through the lowly, the least, and the last of us to bring about healing and salvation, restoration and reconciliation. With God and with all people.

So, who are you in today’s story? Are you one of the nine? The entitled? Unable to see God at work around you among the least and lowly?

Or are you the tenth? The foreigner? The outsider? Even, perhaps, the enemy?

Regardless of who you are, God offers healing and mercy, life and salvation to all people.  No borders. No divisions. No insiders. No outsiders.  Life and salvation, offered to all people.

May our response then be that of the tenth--to turn back and give God thanks and praise. And to hear the promise in Jesus’ command to “get up and go,” that it is God-given faith in a resurrected Jesus that has saved us and that empowers us to step across boundaries and borders, to share mercy with outsiders, to pay attention to things that are worthy of praise, and to move forward into the future with the assurance that God is with us and that there is more to God’s story than meets the eye.

Get up and go, then. Go and witness to the saving love of God in Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Preached October 9, 2016, at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Bastrop, TX.
21st Sunday after Pentecost
Lessons: 2 Kings 5:1-15c, Psalm 111, 2 Timothy 2:8-15, Luke 17:11-19.