Promises Made, Promises Broken: Bitter and Sweet

Today, we are transported forward in time. Last week, we heard the story of Joseph and his brothers and how, in the midst of an evil committed against Joseph, God used this and turned it to good. Eventually preserving Jacob, Joseph’s father, and the entire clan from famine. At the end of last week’s story, we heard that Joseph and his brothers and all of their families remained in Egypt. 

Today’s story is some 400 years later. It comes from the book of Exodus. It’s important to note that this book begins with these words: “Now a new pharaoh came to power in Egypt who didn’t know Joseph.” In the chapters that precede today’s texts, we learn that this new Pharaoh is concerned with the growing power of Israel in his country. He fears that they may take over, because they have grown to be a large number of people. And so, to prevent this, the Pharaoh enslaves Israel.

Eventually, God calls Moses to lead Israel out of slavery to freedom. He will impose a series of plagues on Egypt - nine, in fact - to convince the pharaoh to let Israel go. None of them work. The pharaoh refuses to release them. 

So, God plans a tenth and final plague. It is here, where our story today begins, in Exodus, chapter 12. 

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, “This month will be the first month; it will be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole Israelite community: On the tenth day of this month they must take a lamb for each household, a lamb per house. If a household is too small for a lamb, it should share one with a neighbor nearby. You should divide the lamb in proportion to the number of people who will be eating it. Your lamb should be a flawless year-old male. You may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You should keep close watch over it until the fourteenth day of this month. At twilight on that day, the whole assembled Israelite community should slaughter their lambs. They should take some of the blood and smear it on the two doorposts and on the beam over the door of the houses in which they are eating. That same night they should eat the meat roasted over the fire. They should eat it along with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Don’t eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over fire with its head, legs, and internal organs. Don’t let any of it remain until morning, and burn any of it left over in the morning. This is how you should eat it. You should be dressed, with your sandals on your feet and your walking stick in your hand. You should eat the meal in a hurry. It is the Passover of the Lord. I’ll pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I’ll strike down every oldest child in the land of Egypt, both humans and animals. I’ll impose judgments on all the gods of Egypt. I am the Lord. The blood will be your sign on the houses where you live. Whenever I see the blood, I’ll pass over you. No plague will destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. --Exodus 12:1-13 (CEB)

I want to point out to you the opening verse of this reading. It’s really pretty fascinating. God tells Moses and his brother, Aaron, that this is the beginning of time for Israel. Their calendar is being reset. 

This is an important moment for Israel because it is from this point forward that their life will begin as God’s covenanted people - these descendants of Abraham, through whom God has promised to bless all people.

As we read the rest, we see that these instructions - or this liturgy - includes a very special meal. And a specific way to remember it. Each family is to take a lamb - an unblemished lamb - and keep it in the household for four days. And, then, they are to slaughter it. This lamb that has become part of the household, with whom the children have likely grown fond - after four days, they are to slaughter it. And, then, to prepare it and eat it. Leaving no leftovers. 

This isn’t a relaxed meal together. Israel is to be prepared to leave, to escape the bondange they have been experiencing. They are to eat with their clothes and their sandals on. Because God intends to kill the firstborn sons of Egypt on this night. The only thing that will save Israel’s first born sons will be the blood of the slaughtered lamb, painted on the doorpost. This ritual will prepare them for the journey and for their salvation. 

Our reading continues in chapter 13.

The Lord said to Moses: Dedicate to me all your oldest children. Each first offspring from any Israelite womb belongs to me, whether human or animal.

Moses said to the people, “Remember this day which is the day that you came out of Egypt, out of the place you were slaves, because the Lord acted with power to bring you out of there. No leavened bread may be eaten. Today, in the month of Abib, you are going to leave. The Lord will bring you to the land of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. It is the land that the Lord promised your ancestors to give to you, a land full of milk and honey. You should perform this ritual in this month. You must eat unleavened bread for seven days. The seventh day is a festival to the Lord. Only unleavened bread should be eaten for seven days. No leavened bread and no yeast should be seen among you in your whole country. You should explain to your child on that day, ‘It’s because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt.’ --Exodus 13:1-8 (CEB)

The ritual coming out of this night will become the basis from this time forward of every Passover remembrance for the Jewish people. It will be known as the Seder meal and will consist of roasted lamb, representing the sacrifice made on this night. Included will be bitter herbs, as a reminder of the bitterness of life in Egypt. A paste made of fruit, nuts, spices and wine or juice - called the charoset - will bring to mind for Israel the mortar and bricks they made as slaves under Pharaoh. There will also be a vegetable, representing the backbreaking work of slavery. Finally, matzah will be included, reminding the Israelites of the unleavened bread, eaten that night, because there no time for the dough to rise. This ritual, this meal, will help Israel remember that the cost of freedom is high. That the gift of freedom often brings with it innocent victims. And that the destruction of oppressive systems comes with a price. Freedom isn’t free. 

When we are freed from this time of COVID, I wonder if we will begin to mark time in a new way - BC (before COVID) and PC (post-COVID). I wonder if we will be changed by this experience, like Israel. I wonder if we will remember. Will we, like Israel, engage in the rituals of remembering? It was this ritual of remembering that would begin to shape and form Israel as a people. It was this ritual of remembering that prepared Israel for the next steps - to go into a future unknown, led only by a God, not well known to them, but who knew them well. It was this ritual of remembering that would connect every future generation to this very moment - bringing them back to the point of liberation so they might remember, as our text reads, “what the Lord has done for me.” For me. This ritual marked a new day, a new calendar for Israel.

We, like Israel, are people of ritual. Ritual that shapes and forms us. That prepares us to go into an unknown future. That connects every generation to the moment of the sacrifice of our own Passover lamb. When we worship, when we remember our baptism, when we hear God’s Word, when we “take and eat” in communion, we, like Israel are being shaped and formed into a people - into God’s covenanted people. Not forgetting the cost of our freedom. But remembering what the Lord has done for us. For you. For me. And we are being prepared to go, dressed and with our running shoes on, led into an unknown future by a God who is faithful. Who overturns oppression. Who leads us out of bondage. Who keeps promises. And who remembers us.  Just as God Israel’s cries and remembered them so very long ago. 

May we be shaped by our own rituals of remembering. May we trust God’s promises. And may we live freely into the new day, to do God’s continuing work of liberation in our world. Amen. 

Preached October 4, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 18

Readings: Exodus 12:1-13; 13:1-8; Luke 22:14-20

The Call to Serve: Authority and a Few Other Things

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

These are unusual times we are living in, aren’t they? Such dramatic change in just a week. The cancellation of major festivals, major sporting events, school classes, even worship. A declaration of a world-wide pandemic. Travel restrictions. The shutting down of offices and other buildings. The upheaval in the stock market and the oil market. It might almost feel for us as though we are in the midst of a cosmic change. 

Similarly, the direction of my sermon has changed dramatically from where I first started. Because everything is just changing. Quickly. So, today, I’m going to touch on six different topics that may seem completely unrelated. It is my hope (and my prayer!) that, by the end, I will have been able to weave them together. So, here they are: Authority. Vineyards. Economic systems. David Brooks. Pandemics. And Luther (and a little bit of Bonhoeffer!). 

Topic number one. Authority. The question of authority is at the heart of our text today. It isn’t part of our Gospel reading, but, if you back up to the very end of chapter 11, to the part that just precedes today’s reading, the questions that Jesus is asked by the chief priests, the legal experts, and the elders - in other words, the religious leaders. The two questions they ask of Jesus are: “What kind of authority do you have for doing these things? And who gave it to you?”

You see, since the very beginning of Mark, Jesus has been throwing his authority around all over the place. Healing people who are sick. Restoring sight to the blind. Releasing demons from people. (Demons, who, by the way, know and recognize Jesus’ authority.) The authority of Jesus has been oozing out all over the place. So, when he is asked this question by the religious leaders about his authority, his response is to tell them a parable. About a vineyard. 

Jesus spoke to them in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the winepress, and built a tower. Then he rented it to tenant farmers and took a trip. When it was time, he sent a servant to collect from the tenants his share of the fruit of the vineyard. But they grabbed the servant, beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. Again the landowner sent another servant to them, but they struck him on the head and treated him disgracefully. He sent another one; that one they killed. The landlord sent many other servants, but the tenants beat some and killed others. Now the landowner had one son whom he loved dearly. He sent him last, thinking, They will respect my son. But those tenant farmers said to each other, ‘This is the heir. Let’s kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ They grabbed him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard.

“So what will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy those tenants and give the vineyard to others. Haven’t you read this scripture, The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. The Lord has done this, and it’s amazing in our eyes?”

They wanted to arrest Jesus because they knew that he had told the parable against them. But they were afraid of the crowd, so they left him and went away. --Mark 12:1-12. 

Topic number two. Vineyards. The image of a vineyard is common in scripture. I counted it up yesterday and the word is used 118 times through both testaments. In the Hebrew scripture, there are 95 references alone to the imagery of vineyards. Last fall, we heard a love song about a vineyard in Isaiah 5. Well, really, it was a break up song about a vineyard and its owner, where Israel was portrayed metaphorically as the well-tended, but unproductive vineyard of Yahweh. 

Would it surprise you to learn that the description of the vineyard in today’s reading is the same description as the one in Isaiah, which was a vineyard with a pit for a winepress and a watchtower?Planted by a man who characterizes the vineyard as his beloved Israel. This beloved community that he has cared for and guided and served. And that has responded, in turn, with injustice and bloodshed.

In Mark’s gospel parable, there’s still a landowner. And a vineyard. But there’s a little twist, added characters to the story. Tenant farmers. And slaves. And a son.

Now, we with our 21st century understanding, might be a little offended by this parable and, particularly, of the imbalance of power between the wealthy landowner and the tenant farmers, who are really sharecroppers. But, if we remember that parables use common elements that are understood by the audience to teach them something they don’t understand, we have to look at this parable with first century eyes.

Because this practice was common under Roman rule. It even has a term connected to it - latifundia. These were great landed estates specializing in crops for export, such as grain, olive oil, or wine. They were the closest example in ancient times to our industrialized agriculture. And their economics depended entirely upon slavery.

Topic number three. Economic systems. If this economic system of Rome sounds familiar, it should. Because, it’s a practice that has been carried down through centuries. Such as by European monarchies who often gave large grants of land to reward services by people to them or their empire - exactly how parts of the US were settled. It’s a model we learned well as we created a similar economy built on slavery. On people. Human beings imported as chattel to prop up and sustain unjust economic systems. That pit poor people against other poor people. That benefit the wealthy. Economic systems that still persist today. 

Whatever we understand about this vineyard, it is clear that something is amiss. That there is a power struggle happening here. Between the owner and the tenants. First, the tenants try to flip the power. Then, the owner takes back the power and gets in new tenants.

Now, I have to stop for just a moment and make a corrective here. For way too long this parable has been used as a parable to talk about the end of Israel as God’s beloved and Christians as the “new tenants” in the story. That the Jews had their shot and now it's time for Christians. This is simply wrong. And hurtful. Because there’s an interesting word in verse 9. The word translated “destroy.” In Greek, it’s a term that is used to describe the destruction of evil as a result of an apocalyptic upheaval. Its use here suggests that the destruction carried out by the landowner is not about a people, but a cosmic battle between good and evil. And that Jesus, the cornerstone, is in the midst of this battle. A battle that will result in the destruction of evil and of evil systems that continue to exploit people and creation. 

And, if you still don’t think that this parable is about economic systems, then look at the very next part of the story. When the religious leaders realize that Jesus is talking about them, they get angry and they want to arrest and destroy him, but they can’t because of the crowd. So, they send others to entrap him. By talking about nothing other than money. And taxes. Boom.

They sent some of the Pharisees and supporters of Herod to trap him in his words. They came to him and said, “Teacher, we know that you’re genuine and you don’t worry about what people think. You don’t show favoritism but teach God’s way as it really is. Does the Law allow people to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Should we pay taxes or not?”

Since Jesus recognized their deceit, he said to them, “Why are you testing me? Bring me a coin. Show it to me.” And they brought one. He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?”

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

Jesus said to them, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.” His reply left them overcome with wonder. --Mark 12:13-17. 

The religious leaders send two groups - Pharisees and Herodians - who approach Jesus with flattery and false praise, and then hit him up with a question to which there is no good answer. And Jesus knows it. So, he answers with a non-answer. But, first, he asks them for a coin. And they give him a Roman coin, with a picture of Caesar on it. By giving him this coin, they implicate themselves - that they have bought into an economy that they decry. Because, as Jesus points out, if you participate in an economy, then you have a responsibility. To pay taxes.

But, do you notice that Jesus doesn’t have a coin with the image of Caesar in his pocket? Is this a message that, perhaps, he is rejecting the entire economy of the empire, particularly one that exploits the poor? 

Which brings me to topics number four and five. David Brooks and Pandemics. On Thursday, conservative columnist David Brooks wrote in the NY Times about what pandemics do. How they drive people apart. Because in these moments, fear can drive people. It can drive us away from each other as the possibility of death drives away concern for no one but ourselves and our loved ones. Witness the hoarding and panic buying over these past few days. Witness the privilege that allows us to be able to afford to hoard, when we know that pandemic always hits the poorest and most vulnerable in our community the hardest. All out of fear.

But, it’s not only fear that drives people in times of pandemic. So does shame. Because in the midst of pandemic, hard, life-and-death choices have to be made. They’re being made today. By doctors in Italy, for example, who because of a limited number of ventilators, are having to decide who gets one and who doesn’t.

But, these hard choices are not all that drives shame. As Brooks was researching the 1918 flu pandemic for his column, he was surprised by how few books or plays had been written about it. He wrote that roughly 675,000 American lost their lives in that one year, compared with 53,000 dead in the four-year period of World War 1. Yet, little was written about it. It seemed to leave almost no mark in culture. Why? Because, when it was over, people would not talk about it because they were ashamed at how they had responded. With one exception. Healthcare workers. Who responded then, as they do today, with heroism and compassion.

Which brings me to my final topic. Number six. Luther. (And that little bit of Bonhoeffer!) In 1527, ten years after the Reformation, the bubonic plague, which had been winding its way through Europe, struck Wittenberg, Germany. The political leader of this area, Elector John, fearing for the safety of Luther and the other professors at Wittenberg University, ordered them to leave town. Luther, along with another professor, refused. Instead he stayed to minister to those who were sick and frightened. Seventeen days later, there were 18 deaths, including the wife of the mayor, who died in Luther’s arms. Eventually, the plague receded. Yet soon after, clergy from a neighboring town now affected by it, wrote him a letter to ask his advice. Whether they should stay to serve the community or whether they should leave to preserve their own lives.

Here’s what he had to say. “This I well know, that if it were Christ or his mother who were laid low by illness, everybody would be so solicitous and would gladly become a servant or helper. Everyone would want to be bold and fearless; nobody would flee but everyone would come running….If you wish to serve Christ and to wait on him, very well, you have your sick neighbor close at hand. Go to him and serve him, and you will surely find Christ in him….”

In addition, he also said was that, in the process of serving our neighbor, we were to use our brains. To follow careful safety precautions. To use care to prohibit spread. All of the things that we are doing today.

Now, just a little bit of Bonhoeffer. After being arrested, Bonhoeffer was imprisoned for some time as he awaited his fate. It was in this time that he truly began to reflect what it meant to be human. And to be true community. To be a beloved community. He wrote: "To be Christian does not mean to live in a specified religious way...but, it means to be human, not a particular human type. Christ creates true humanity in us. It is not religious acts that a Christian does, but participation in the suffering of Christ in worldly life.” 

Dear friends, we are in unusual times. Are they part of some apocalyptic cosmic change to overturn unjust economic systems in our world? I don’t know. But, what I do know is that we have been created to be in beloved community with one another and with the world, especially where there is suffering, because this is where we will find Christ. We have been called to serve those here in our congregation and in the world who are most vulnerable and at risk. To take care to stop the spread of this disease. And, mostly, to love and support one another in this time of fear and anxiety. 

We do this, not because it will gain us salvation, but because salvation has already been gained for us. By God’s authority in Christ, who is our chief cornerstone and our true vine. Who frees us and, then, nourishes us so that we might go out into the world and with the Holy Spirit beside us bear fruit in the beloved vineyard of God. 

May God guide and keep us in this time. Amen.

Preached during virtual worship on Sunday, March 15, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Lent 3
Reading: Mark 12:1-17

Rekindling Our Faith, Rekindling Our Imagination - Part 4

Now even the first covenant had regulations for worship and an earthly sanctuary. For a tent was constructed, the first one, in which were the lampstand, the table, and the bread of the Presence; this is called the Holy Place. Behind the second curtain was a tent called the Holy of Holies. In it stood the golden altar of incense and the ark of the covenant overlaid on all sides with gold, in which there were a golden urn holding the manna, and Aaron’s rod that budded, and the tablets of the covenant; above it were the cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy seat. Of these things we cannot speak now in detail.

Such preparations having been made, the priests go continually into the first tent to carry out their ritual duties; but only the high priest goes into the second, and he but once a year, and not without taking the blood that he offers for himself and for the sins committed unintentionally by the people. By this the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the sanctuary has not yet been disclosed as long as the first tent is still standing. This is a symbol of the present time, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshiper, but deal only with food and drink and various baptisms, regulations for the body imposed until the time comes to set things right.

But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, with the sprinkling of the ashes of a heifer, sanctifies those who have been defiled so that their flesh is purified, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to worship the living God! --Hebrews 9:1-14 (NRSV)

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

If you were one of the newly-freed people of Israel, going to worship at the tabernacle in the wilderness, this is as far in as you could go. In that first place of worship for Israel, there were three parts. The first - the outer courtyard - was where the altar of sacrifice was placed. It was here that, if you were seeking to honor God, to ask for God’s blessing, or make amends for something you had done wrong - it was here that you would come. With grain. With an animal, such as a bull or ram or dove or pigeon. Even with the fat and inner organs from certain animals. You would come to this place with your offering and it was here, in this outer courtyard, where the priests would, if required, slaughter your offering and then place it on the altar of sacrifice. 

If you were of the priestly class in Israel, from the line of Levi, you could go into the next place - the inner courtyard. The Holy place. It was here that you would go about your daily ritual duties. Offering incense morning and evening as you came in to dress and trim the lamps - lamps that were situated beside a table, called the Table of the Presence. Each Sabbath, you would eat the Bread of the Presence - loaves of bread that had been set in place the previous Sabbath as a continual offering to God. These loaves were a visible token for Israel of the communion between God and God’s people. As priests, after eating the bread, you would replace the loaves with freshly baked bread, to be eaten and replaced the following Sabbath. 

If, however, you were the high priest, you were the only person who could enter the next place - the inner sanctuary. The Holy of Holies. This inner sanctum was separated from the courtyard by a curtain. It contained the Ark of the Covenant, which was the most sacred object in all of Israel. It was here, in a box-like container where three sacred religious objects were located. A golden bowl containing manna - the bread that God had provided to sustain Israel in the wilderness. It contained Aaron’s rod, which God had caused to bud and flower when the people disputed his priestly role. Then, finally, it contained the two tablets of stone upon which was written the Ten Commandments. Which represented the covenant that God had made with Israel at Mount Sinai. On top of the Ark was the Mercy Seat. On either end were two gold cherubim. It was between these cherubim where God was present. Hovering over the Mercy Seat in the form of a cloud. 

As high priest, you would enter this space- the Holy of Holies - on Yom Kippur and offer up a sacrifice for all Israel. A sacrifice for all sins committed unintentionally by the people. Part of this sacrifice included two male goats, one of which would be offered up. The high priest would then take the second goat, place his hands on the head of the animal, and confess over it all of Israel’s offenses, their rebellious sins and all other sins. He would then send this goat - this scape-goat - away. Out into the wilderness. Carrying the sins of Israel away. 

This is the tabernacle and the connected ritual around it that the writer of Hebrews is talking about in our text today. This earthly place - this worldly sanctuary - connected to that first covenant made between God and the people at Sinai.

But, do you notice something about this place? Do you notice how far God is in this ritual from God’s people? How there is no direct contact - no direct relationship - between God and God’s people. But that, in order to get to God, you have to go through priests and, ultimately, through the high priest. To get to God. To be in God’s presence.

But, ultimately, God is a God of relationships. I’ve spoken before about the perichoretic nature of God - that God, as the Triune God, is in relationship with Godself, with God’s three persons: Creator, Son, and Holy Spirit. That our relational God has created us to be in relationship with God. And also with each other. That we aren’t intended to go it alone. But that God intends we are together. This is the wholeness God desires. This is the shalom God wants.

And so, as God looked at this earthly sanctuary, God could see its weaknesses and its limitations. How it separated God from God’s people. How there was no “way” into the inner sanctuary. No direct “way” into God’s presence for all of humanity.

And so, God determined, as our text says today, to “make things right.” To do something new. To send Christ as our own high priest. Our own mediator. To tear down that curtain that separates us from the presence of God. To break down once and for all the things that keep us from God. To open the “way” for all people into the presence of God. God has flung the door open wide open for us and for all people.

Why? Because God is a God of relationships. God wants to be in relationship with us. And God wants us to be in relationship with others. And with all of creation. This is the new thing that God is doing. The “new covenant” that our text speaks of. A covenant of wholeness of relationship. With God and with each other.

This is what our text is talking about this morning. About how God has opened the door in a surprising way. And about how God has acted and continues to act to restore relationships. Relationships that our own human sins have closed off.

In 1619, 400 years ago this month, twenty people from Africa were brought to the shores of this country. To Jamestown, Virginia. And they were sold into slavery. This was the beginning of 250 years of the intentional enslavement of a people in our country. The beginning of a transatlantic slave trade that ripped African peoples away from their rich traditions, their history, and their assets. It led to the systematic oppression of people of African descent in the US and throughout the world. To colonial and post-colonial policies. To racist beliefs, policies and practices. To imbalances of privilege, power, and wealth. And to the continuing demand for low or no-wage labor that are the manifestations of this legacy of slavery.

And if you think the church has been immune to this. That the church has not been a party to this legacy. Think again. For centuries, scripture was used to justify slavery. And, while there were some Lutherans in the south who questioned its morality, along with a few in the north, “on the whole,” R.M. Chapman writes in his book about Lutherans and the legacy of slavery.  “On the whole, Lutherans did not become strong anti-slavery advocates, nor did they champion the cause of free blacks in the North or the South.” Lutherans were complicit in slavery as they largely stood by. Passively. Accepting the practice as the law of the land. And, even though much of our own Lutheran church history emphasizes being an immigrant church, during the Jim Crow era and much of the civil rights era and later years, Lutherans as a whole remained on the sidelines. Silent. With only a few small pockets of advocacy and action.

Too often we hear in ourselves that we are not racist. That we are not privileged. We may have grown up poor ourselves and with few resources. We have worked hard for what we have. And that is true. Yet, what we fail to see is that we have a system of privilege that has made our lives easier. We fail to look at the log in our eye. To see the rights and privileges that we have had. That our ancestors have had. Privileges that have allowed us to access good education. To choose where we might live. To get loans and purchase property and assets. To build wealth. All while many others have not had those same privileges. This unearned privilege runs deep within us. And we cannot escape it.

Yet, God continues to do new things. To rekindle our faith. And to challenge our imagination. Through Christ, God continues to draw us back into relationship. With God and with one another. More deeply. So that we might begin to understand the harm our sin has caused in our relationships. That we might repent of that sin. And that we might begin to work alongside the Spirit to change the world in which we live. To tear down the systemic walls that divide us. So that our world might be the heavenly sanctuary God desires. The place of wholeness God wants. The shalom that God seeks for us, for all people, and for all of creation.

For these - for these new things that God is doing - may our response be, “Thanks be to God!” Amen.

Keeping the Sabbath: Trust!

Every seventh year you shall grant a remission of debts. And this is the manner of the remission: every creditor shall remit the claim that is held against a neighbor, not exacting it of a neighbor who is a member of the community, because the Lord’s remission has been proclaimed.

If there is among you anyone in need, a member of your community in any of your towns within the land that the Lord your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor. You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be. Be careful that you do not entertain a mean thought, thinking, “The seventh year, the year of remission, is near,” and therefore view your needy neighbor with hostility and give nothing; your neighbor might cry to the Lord against you, and you would incur guilt. Give liberally and be ungrudging when you do so, for on this account the Lord your God will bless you in all your work and in all that you undertake. Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, “Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.” --Deuteronomy 15:1-2, 7-11 (NRSV)

Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’ So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

“Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’” --Luke 15:11-32 (NRSV)

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

It must have been tough to be a banker in Israel. Although one could get used to having that one day each week - that shabbat day, that seventh day - to stop and to rest. It was an entirely different thing to erase all debt every seven years. As a creditor, to simply eliminate any outstanding loan payments and entire loans beginning at midnight on the eve of each seventh year. Each jubilee year.

This command though was only part of a series of commands for Israel related to shabbat, to overall financial practices, and to sabbatical years - this series of biblical regulations that were part of what came to be known as the Holiness Code. Part of the collection of laws given to Israel by Moses at Sinai. Each seventh year - each sabbatical year - the land was to lie fallow.  To rest. In the same year, any property that had been taken had to be returned to its original owners and heirs. All indentured service were to be freed. And, then, of course, all debt was to be erased. Gone.

It must have been tough to be a banker in Israel. In fact, it must have been tough to be someone in a position of power, someone controlling others, whether through owning debt, or taking property, or owning others - holding onto power was not an easy thing in Israel. 

Because that’s exactly what God intended.

Over these past three weeks, as we’ve explored what it means to be keepers of the Sabbath. To stop. And to rest. Today, we come to the biggest of the three. The hardest of the three. The third aspect of Sabbath-keeping that really encompasses every element of this fourth commandment and, really, of all the commandments. As we’ve learned how important it is for us to stop and to rest. To remember who we are. And who God is. The text from Deuteronomy today is a striking illustration of the trust that the Israelites are invited to live in. Trust that we are invited to live in.

How hard it must have been for Israel! To go from years and generations of slavery to forty years of absolute trust and dependence on God in the wilderness. Then, to becoming landowners in Canaan, to begin forming and shaping their society and their ways of living together with all of the challenges and messiness that can bring. And, then, God calls for all debt to be erased every seventh year.

One has to wonder how that worked out? After all, isn’t it human nature to want to try to game the system? How might debtors respond? Would they somehow try to manipulate the process to ensure that the largest possible amount of debt remained by the end of that sixth year, so that it could be eliminated? Or how about those bankers? Perhaps they only made loans for six years, even reducing the total amounts they would lend, always with an eye for the seventh year - that sabbatical year. 

But, isn’t that really the point? Because, in our human nature we try to find these work arounds. Because we are afraid. Afraid that things won’t work out. That we won’t have enough money. That God won’t provide. Even though God says God will. Even though our experiences prove otherwise. 

God understands our mindset. The gradual way in which sin creeps in. How we become enticed to build ourselves up at the expense of others. To guard and to protect our worth. And to ignore the need of others. To amass power for ourselves and then to consolidate it. To use it to disempower and dehumanize others. God recognizes the human mindset. And calls it out. God calls out being tight-fisted and hard-hearted. Resenting those in need as though they are taking something away from us. Refusing to see each other as mutual caregivers, that we belong to each other and are to help one another in the same way that God helps us. Because there will always be need in the world. It is our human condition that ensures this.

It’s why the Sabbath command is so important. Because it reminds us that God is God and that we are not. And it leads us to trust. To trust in God, an abundant God, who will ensure that we are cared for. And who invites us to join with God in caring for each other and meeting each other’s needs.

Because this is the way of freedom. The way of freedom won for us in Christ. A freedom that is for everyone, regardless of financial worth or status. A freedom that disrespects power and control. A freedom that sees everyone and everything as coming from God’s creative hand. And as we live into our Jesus-won freedom. As the Spirit works in our hearts to deepen our faith, we grow in trust. Trusting God. That God will meet our needs. And that we are then free to meet the needs of others.

This is God’s ideal. That there be no separation between freedom and welfare. That the justness of a society is measured by its treatment of the dependent. The orphan. The widow. The foreigner. The poor. The lowly. As J. M. Hamilton writes on this chapter in Deuteronomy, “The view of human rights in the Bible ‘defines that treatment which the dependent has a right to expect of society and that treatment which society owes to the dependent.” 

What a radical view of how we are to care for our neighbor and for the dependent in our society! That it is their right. And that it is an obligation by the community. What a radical view for a society - for our secular society - that has taken its cue from the Enlightenment, rather than from Scripture. Seeing human rights as things to be safeguarded from others rather than a set of obligations that is owed. How radical is that?

But, isn’t it this radical nature of God’s grace that we see in the story of the prodigal son? This young man who goes to his father and insists upon his inheritance. Who then takes it and squanders it in the worst way possible. Who ends up slopping pigs. So hungry that he even considers joining in and eating their food right along with them. Someone who has been a fool. Someone who has earned exactly where he’s ended up. Self-destructed. At the bottom. Where he deserves to be.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, to view this story with a Sabbath lens? As the young man returns home, still scheming how he might convince his father to take him back, his father sees him. Is overjoyed. And welcomes him in. The young man discovers that he is loved and claimed simply for being his father’s child. And he is given a place, working alongside his father, in freedom. Restored to wholeness. His older brother is offered this same place, but it’s so hard for him to let go of the false idea that his worth is measured in what he does. What he produces. What he earns. Instead of who he is - his father’s child.

It’s why the Sabbath is so important for us. If we cannot assess our value and our standing by how productive or how successful or how good we are, the invitation by God and the grace offered by God to simply abide in God’s love, to trust in God’s love - a love that claims us as God’s own - it can feel terrifying. And, perhaps, even a little offensive.

But, we, too, can move from slavery to freedom. We, too, can be awakened from death into life. We, too, can feel our joy made complete. We, too, can experience rest for our souls. If only we Stop! We rest! And we trust. And we let God meet us just as we are.

Amen.

Preached July 28, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 7

Readings: Deuteronomy 15:1-2, 7-11; Luke 15:11-32

Tuning In: God Tunes Into Us

On the third new moon after the Israelites had gone out of the land of Egypt, on that very day, they came into the wilderness of Sinai. They had journeyed from Rephidim, entered the wilderness of Sinai, and camped in the wilderness; Israel camped there in front of the mountain. Then Moses went up to God; the Lord called to him from the mountain, saying, “Thus you shall say to the house of Jacob, and tell the Israelites: You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now therefore, if you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession out of all the peoples. Indeed, the whole earth is mine, but you shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation. These are the words that you shall speak to the Israelites.”

Then God spoke all these words: I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.  Exodus 19:1-6, 20:1-2 (NRSV)

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

Welcome to this day! It is the first Sunday of four that we will spend thinking about the Ten Commandments, or the Ten Words, as they are called in Judaism. It’s also Trinity Sunday, which is the one Sunday of the church year in which we attempt to explain and to celebrate the Trinity.

Can you think of something else we’re celebrating this weekend?

That’s right! Memorial Day! What does Memorial Day mean to you?

Yes, it’s a day of remembering. We’ve been doing a lot of remembering. Last week, we celebrated the festival of Pentecost. When we remember the sending of the Holy Spirit--the Advocate that Jesus had promised to send to the disciples after his ascension. You may remember that we heard that it wasn’t an accident that there were large crowds in Jerusalem on that day. It was no coincidence. They had come to the city--to the temple--to celebrate the Jewish festival of Shavu’ot. This was a holiday of remembering for them, too, just like Monday’s holiday is for us.

Do you remember what the Jewish people were remembering? Yes, it was the remembrance of God’s giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai. Fifty days after the Passover. Fifty days after Israel had been freed by God from slavery in Egypt. They had passed through the wilderness and reached Mount Sinai. It was at Mount Sinai that Israel entered into a covenant with God--the promise we just heard in the reading from Exodus 19: That, if they obeyed God and stayed true to God’s covenant, then they would be God’s most precious possession out of all the peoples. Israel would be a kingdom of priests for God. A holy nation.

So, to help Israel stay true to the covenant, God gifted them with the Torah. Or the Law. We often think that this is just the Ten Commandments. But, it was much, much more. The video we are about to watch will help us better understand what the Torah meant to Israel. It will also help us understand what the Torah meant to Jesus. 

Let’s watch.

Perhaps the biggest challenge we have as Protestants is that we don’t quite understand what to do with the Law. We teach that we are saved by faith and not by our works--not by the things we do. That we are saved simply through our faith. That we can’t earn our own salvation.

Yet, what we heard in the video is that the law is all about relationships. About our relationship with God. And about our relationships with each other, with our neighbors. Even with our enemies.

It seems perfect that we should begin this series on the Ten Commandments today, on Trinity Sunday. This day when we celebrate the Three Persons of the Godhead. Three distinct persons--each with its own nature, each with its own purpose, each unique, and yet one. Unified with each other. In relationship with each other. You see, the very nature of God is relational. And, it’s this same God that has created us to be in relationship. To be in relationship with God. And to be in relationship with each other. To love God and to love our neighbor. 

Luther wrote in his introduction to the Ten Commandments that the person who knows the ten commandments knows all of scripture: love God, and love your neighbor. 

The Law teaches us and leads us how to live into God’s unchanging goal for us. God’s vision about what a just and safe a society looks like. A vision of a world of shalom, of wholeness. A vision of a world that is properly ordered--that is tuned into God and into each other. 

The Formula of Concord, which is one of the principle documents based on God’s Word that we as Lutherans confess and affirm, lays this out clearly for us, as believers. 

“We believe, teach, and confess that, although people who truly believe in Christ and are genuinely converted to God have been liberated and set free from the curse and compulsion of the law through Christ, they indeed are not for that reason without the law. Instead, they have been redeemed by the Son of God so that they may practice the law day and night.”

This is why the Law is still important for us. Because it is the ideal--God’s ideal vision--that we are called to live into. We, who have been freed from our own slavery to sin by Jesus’ dying on the cross, are freed, then, to love and to serve our neighbor. 

Because it is always about relationship. With God. And with each other. Always. 


Amen.

Preached May 27, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 1
Readings: Matthew 22:34-40; Exodus 19:1-6, 20:1-2