God Provides Blessings: Proofing the Dough

Last week’s story related how God promised to deliver the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. This week, we see the results of that deliverance. We read in Exodus, chapter 16.

The whole Israelite community set out from Elim and came to the Sin desert, which is located between Elim and Sinai. They set out on the fifteenth day of the second month after they had left the land of Egypt. The whole Israelite community complained against Moses and Aaron in the desert. The Israelites said to them, “Oh, how we wish that the Lord had just put us to death while we were still in the land of Egypt. There we could sit by the pots cooking meat and eat our fill of bread. Instead, you’ve brought us out into this desert to starve this whole assembly to death.”

Then the Lord said to Moses, “I’m going to make bread rain down from the sky for you. The people will go out each day and gather just enough for that day. In this way, I’ll test them to see whether or not they follow my Instruction. On the sixth day, when they measure out what they have collected, it will be twice as much as they collected on other days.” So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, “This evening you will know that it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt. And in the morning you will see the Lord’s glorious presence, because your complaints against the Lord have been heard. Who are we? Why blame us?” Moses continued, “The Lord will give you meat to eat in the evening and your fill of bread in the morning because the Lord heard the complaints you made against him. Who are we? Your complaints aren’t against us but against the Lord.”

Then Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole Israelite community, ‘Come near to the Lord, because he’s heard your complaints.’” As Aaron spoke to the whole Israelite community, they turned to look toward the desert, and just then the glorious presence of the Lord appeared in the cloud.

The Lord spoke to Moses, “I’ve heard the complaints of the Israelites. Tell them, ‘At twilight you will eat meat. And in the morning you will have your fill of bread. Then you will know that I am the Lord your God.’”

In the evening a flock of quail flew down and covered the camp. And in the morning there was a layer of dew all around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the desert surface were thin flakes, as thin as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to each other, “What is it?” They didn’t know what it was.

Moses said to them, “This is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat. This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Collect as much of it as each of you can eat, one omer per person. You may collect for the number of people in your household.’” The Israelites did as Moses said, some collecting more, some less. But when they measured it out by the omer, the ones who had collected more had nothing left over, and the ones who had collected less had no shortage. Everyone collected just as much as they could eat.

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

Most of you here know that I like to bake. I come from a long line of bakers. My grandmother was famous for her “kuchen.” My mother was known for a wide variety of baked goods, especially the “stollen” she would bake and give away to friends and family each Christmas. For a time, when I was growing up, each week should would bake 5-6 loaves of bread (mostly because my brother would steal a loaf fresh out of the oven and each it in one sitting). So, at a pretty young age, I would sit and watch my mother as she made bread. Mixing the yeast in water sprinkled with a little sugar, then adding flour and salt and kneading the dough for several minutes until it was smooth and elastic.

It was until really the past few years, as I’ve become obsessed with watching baking programs, that I learned what that process of mixing the yeast with water and sugar was all about. Professional bakers call it “proofing” the yeast. A better word is “proving” the yeast. It’s a test to see if the yeast is good and ready to move onto the next step. 

This is the test that God is giving Israel in today’s story. It’s not a test that they can pass or fail. But a test to see if they - like my mother’s yeast - is ready to move onto the next step. 

So, what’s going on here? Well, last week we heard the story of the call of Moses - this reluctant prophet who really resists God’s call to lead Israel out of slavery in Egypt. They have been part of an economy there. An economy built by the pharaoh, who is all about storing up grain which equates to wealth. To store it, he needs storage facilities. It’s these facilities that the Israelites have been enslaved to build. All for the sake of accumulating wealth for the pharaoh - Egypt’s king. It’s an economy of scarcity - an economy that rests on a premise that there is not enough for everyone. An economy that is about hoarding, getting as much as one can get. Just in case. Remember the toilet paper shortage last year in the early months of the pandemic?

This is the only economy Israel has known. An economy that has enslaved them to build and store up wealth. An economy of scarcity has, at its core, fear and control.

God’s economy is different. God’s economy is an economy of sufficiency. Where there is enough for everyone. Where hoarding and storing up wealth is unnecessary, because God has created enough for all people, including you and me. This economy - God’s economy - is one that has, at its core, faith and trust in the provision of God.

So, six weeks after having witnessed the amazing miracle and show of God’s power at the Red Sea, when God parted the waters so that Israel could cross on dry land. Six weeks later, Israel is now in the wilderness. The provisions they brought with them are beginning to diminish. They are becoming fearful, wondering how they eat in this God-forsaken place. 

The response by Israel - the very human response of this people who are very much like we are - is to complain. “If only we hadn’t left Egypt,” they cry out. “If only we hadn’t left Egypt, we’d be sitting in front of our fire pots, eating meat and bread to our fill.” How quickly they’ve forgotten that they were slaves in Egypt. Enslaved by an economy of scarcity that has been deeply embedded in who they are. So that, rather than face an unknown future, even with the promise of God to be present with them, they would much rather go back to the way it was. Go back to being enslaved. This economy, however harsh and inequitable it might be, has so deeply ingrained itself in their lives and the psyche that, for Israel and, perhaps, for us, it is more desirable than the unknown with God.

Isn’t this our situation, too? We know that our systems need to change. We know that our economic system has led to deep inequities in our nation and our world. That it is an economy of scarcity, where the rich only get richer and the poor, poorer. That this economic system, based on producing more and more and more stuff, has resulted in massive harm to our environment. To God’s creation which only a few weeks ago God called “good.” And placed humankind over it to steward it - to care for it. We know we need to change how we live, how we think - everything about the way in which we exist in this world. I get it. It’s hard for me not to want to store up stuff and money to make sure I have enough for the future. 

It’s not just our economic system. Our entire culture needs to change. The church needs to change.  We can no longer fail to walk the talk. To actually live how we say we should live. 

But, that’s really hard, isn’t it. That really hard, especially when we don’t know what the future will bring. Our fear works on us, just as it did on Israel. Making us want to go back to or to remain in the way things have always been.

But, this is where faith comes in. Bit by bit. Day by day, as we see God’s provision, as we see God’s presence in the mundane things of life, like manna, or our daily bread, we are reminded over and over again that, even though we can’t fully see the reality of what God has in store for us, we do know that God will guide us through this wilderness. That God, in Jesus - that Bread come down from heaven, who like the God of the Hebrew scriptures present in the manna is present for us in this bread - that God, in Jesus will form and shape us, will proof us just as my mother proofed her yeast. So that we might have life. Here and now. And into all eternity. Amen.

Preached October 10, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 20

Readings: Exodus 16:1-18, John 6:51

Is God Big Enough?

The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him.

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.

When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.”  Genesis 21:1-3, 22:1-14 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator; Christ, our Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit, our Renewer and Re-creator. Amen.

Blessings. We talked a lot about blessings last week, didn’t we? As we read through the story of creation and heard, once again, the narrative of God’s creativity and loving care in designing a world of order and fruitfulness, it’s hard not to think of how richly God blessed humanity with all of the beauty and diversity of creation. The goodness of such creation. Six times in the story, God looks at what God has created and declares it “good!”

And, then, it all falls apart.

There’s a progression of violence in the early chapters of Genesis. It begins with Cain and Abel and continues to escalate as all of humanity spirals downward into greater and greater conflict and destruction. People are setting up empires to oppress the masses. Entire systems perpetuate injustice. 

And, then, we meet Abraham. The primary actor in our story today.

Abraham’s story is unusual. If you remember it from our lessons this past summer, it is Abraham who left his father’s household in Mesopotamia and moved to Canaan. Abraham, who had been called by God to make this journey.

People in Abraham’s time didn’t just do that. They had a cyclical view of history. They believed that everything that had happened would happen again. That somewhere in that cycle you died and then your kids continued the cycle. And that nothing changed. The cycle continued. Over and over and over again.

But, Abraham is different. He leaves. He steps out of the cycle. And walks into a new future. Leaving home. And leaving an entire way of life. Abraham has a destiny, a destiny planned by God. A plan to father a new kind of people to usher in a new era for humanity. One based in love and not violence or power. One that would bless all people.

How do you do this? How do you form a new kind of people who will take the world in a new direction? Well, as Rob Bell, a contemporary theologian, writes, “You have kids!”

And that’s what Abraham and Sarah did. Have kids. Well, not at first. Because, at first, Sarah, Abraham’s wife, was barren. Worried that God’s plan might go awry, Sarah and Abraham tried to fix things. And the result was that Abraham had a son with Sarah’s servant, Hagar. Ishmael, they named him.

But, this wasn’t exactly God’s plan. What was God’s plan would that this new nation would come from Abraham and Sarah. And, so God promised them a child. A son. It is here, where our story begins today. With their son, Isaac, meaning “laughter.” And with God keeping God’s promise to them. Not only the promise of the son. But also the promise that through that son that they had been blessed with--through Isaac they would become a great people. That through these blessings, they would bless others.

Isaac makes it through childhood, which alone is a great feat. And, perhaps just when it begins to feel to Abraham, that everything is right with the world and that maybe, just maybe, this plan of God’s is really real. Once again, it all falls apart. Or so it seems.

Genesis 22 opens with this verse. “After all these things, God tested Abraham.” It’s such an interesting phrase, isn’t it--”after all these things.” After Abraham has broken the cycle, followed God’s command into an unknown future, trusted in the promise of God to give him a son and to make a great nation out of him. After all of these things, God decides to test Abraham. As though Abraham hasn’t already passed test after test.

We hear a lot about God testing us. We need to step back a little bit here and thing about that word “test.” It has such a negative connotation, doesn’t it. It always gets applied to us in our lives when something bad is happening or things seem to be going wrong. “God is testing me,” we might say in response. As if God wants to see whether or not we’ll be faithful through the suffering. Or as though God is sadistic--that God wants to test how much we love God.

But that’s not what this is. Here, this test is like the tests that you used to take in school (or that you still do). Tests that are intended to measure your progress. To make sure you’re ready. Ready to move onto the next step of learning. Tests help us identify our readiness for what is next to come. It’s the same here with Abraham. God comes to Abraham to see if he is ready to move onto the next step. To really become the “father or nations.” 

“Abraham, Abraham,” God calls. And Abraham answers, “Here I am!” In the Hebrew, the word is heneni. It’s not just saying, “Hey, I’m here. I’m present.” It is Abraham saying to God, “I’m here. I’m at your disposal. Tell me to do whatever you want and I will do it.” 

And so, God tells him to take his son. His only son. To “please” take his son. You see, it’s not a command, it’s a request. Abraham has a choice here. A choice of whether or not to follow God’s request. Or to refuse it. If he was going to do what God asked of him, it would have to be done willingly. 

Abraham is silent. Perhaps he was just stunned. But, there is no argument. No resistance. Perhaps it is just silent resignation. But, Abraham does it. He packs up the wood and places it on the donkey. Then, gathers two young servants and Isaac. And he moves toward the mountain. To build an altar. Abraham, who already has a history of building altars and who is experienced at making sacrifices--Abraham begins the journey.
At the bottom of the mountain, they stop. And Abraham takes the wood and puts it on Isaac’s back. As they begin up the mountain, Isaac has a moment of realization. “Father, father,” he says to Abraham. “Heneni,” Abraham answers. “Here I am. Fully for you, my son.” 

Isaac has noticed that they have everything they need, except for one thing. The lamb. There is no lamb for the burnt offering. What will they use? He asks his father. And Abraham, still stunned, mumbles, “God will provide.”

I wonder what Isaac’s reaction was when his father began to bound him up and then to place him on top of the altar they had built together. Did he resist? Did he try to run away? Was his pleading, or crying, or struggling? Or was there just placid, stunned submission, like his father. The one he trusted with his very life.

Or what was Abraham thinking as he looked into Isaac’s eyes. Into “Laughter’s” eyes. Eyes that had always watched for Abraham as he returned each day from the pastures. Eyes that had held the promise of a nation, of heirs, of God. Eyes now filled with terror and trust at the same time. How they must have pierced Abraham to his very core!

And, then, just as Abraham is ready to make the sacrifice. Of his son. Abraham hears God, “Abraham, Abraham.” And once again, for the third time, Abraham responds, “Heneni. Here I am.”

How close they came. Abraham pulls Isaac into a deep embrace. And then sees the ram off in the distance. Yes, God has provided.

It is horrifying, isn’t it. We have no concept of what it means to participate in such an act. What kind of religion would demand child sacrifice? Yet, this was the world in which Abraham lived. The gods that people worshipped in his time and place demanded all kinds of offerings from their worshipers, including blood sacrifice. Sacrifice in exchange for the favor of the gods. But interrupting what would have been a normal practice, God is saying, “Enough! No more of this!”

And, yet, if I’m honest, I have to question whether I would want to even have a relationship with a God that would ask me to do that, to do something so repulsive, to sacrifice my own child. Of course, that’s not to say that we don’t sacrifice our children to various gods every day, depending upon what we teach in our own homes. To sacrifice our children to OUR gods. Those things we think are important. Our own priorities that become the gods our children are sacrificed to--the god of money, or of power, or of envy, or of competition or consumerism, or violence, or prejudice.

Yet, Abraham’s story isn’t so much about a man sacrificing his child, but a man who risks everything for his belief in God. Abraham had been given a promise--that he would be the father of multitudes. That many nations would come from him, that his descendents would be as numerous as the stars in the heavens and the grains of sand on the seashore. Isaac was the physical representation of that promise from God.

What if the sacrifice was more about whether Abraham believed that God was big enough to carry out the promise. That even if Abraham destroyed the physical sign of that promise by sacrificing Isaac, God would still carry out the plan. That Abraham’s God was big enough.

The minute Abraham showed that he trusted God to carry out the plan, even without Isaac, the physical sign of that plan. The minute Abraham did this, he passed the test. He was ready to go onto the next step. To truly become the “father of many nations.” Because Abraham understood. He understood that everything he had--his son, his family, and even everything he would ever have- it was all ultimately a gift from God. That it didn’t belong to him. But, that it all belonged to God.

We tend to hold tightest onto those things that are the most dear to us. Our own Isaacs. Our homes. Our 401k’s. Whether those things are, those things that we think will bring us security and comfort. 

And, we thank God for them. We have lists of those blessings in the fellowship hall. Lists we created last week that we thank God for.

Yet, we grip them so tightly that they end up bound on the altar of our choice. Just like Abraham’s hand must have trembled at the thought of losing Isaac, so we tremble at the thought of losing these things. Or of giving any of it away. Not just money, but all our gifts. All those gifts God has given us--teaching, caring, listening to someone, serving, leading.

We don’t realize. Or we simply forget. That none of it belongs to us. None of it, including even our church, belongs to us. It all belongs to God.

That’s what the test was for Abraham. That’s what the test is for us. We have to be willing to give up part of who we are and to step into who God tells us we are. To be willing to believe that God is big enough. Bigger than what we can see or even imagine. And that God is able to do more than we can even ask or think.

A few thousand years later (after all these things), when Abraham’s descendants were as numerous as stars, there was a similar scene. But this time, it would be God’s own son who would walk up the side of the mountain, carrying the wood for his own death, his own altar of sacrifice. And this time, God would not stop it. God wouldn’t be spared the pain of God’s own son dying, wouldn’t even reach down to cover Jesus’ eyes that were so full of terror and trust at the same time.

This was God’s gift to us. “For God so loved the world…” And God did it to birth new life for us. Through Jesus’ death. A new covenant. A new promise. Between God and humanity. One that can’t be broken, even if we try to destroy it ourselves. This is the promise and gift we have through Jesus Christ in our baptisms. Life. 

So, after all these things. After church and Sunday school, maybe this afternoon when you’re enjoying a beautiful, warm afternoon--probably one of the last before autumn begins. As you’re thinking about everything that has happened, and you’re giving thanks for every blessing that you’ve been given and the many people who have blessed you. Think about this story. And know that God’s Spirit lives within you. It’s that Spirit you know that you hear deep inside saying, “Take what I have given you and offer it back to me.” That’s the test for you. The test of your trust. The test of the question: Is your God big enough?

Amen.

Preached September 17, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Gen. 21:1-3, 22:1-14; John 1:29

*With special appreciation to Rev. Linda Pepe and her blog, Theological Stew.

Passing the Test

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.

When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.” Genesis 22:1-14 (NRSV)

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

We continue this week with the legends of Abraham. These stories from Genesis that teach us about the beginnings of Israel, God’s chosen people. A people, founded by Abraham--that patriarch of the faith--whom God called and through whom God promised that all the nations of the world would be blessed.

Last week, we heard the triangular story of Abraham and Sarah and Hagar. 

Today, our story opens with these words: “After these things God tested Abraham.” Really? Do you ever think, “Wow, God, do you really doubt his faith? Abraham’s faith?” Because the “these things” that have happened before, the nature of God’s call to Abraham have consisted of all of “these things”: 

• God’s call to Abraham to pick up and move away from his entire family and go to a land he has never seen.
• God’s promise to Abraham that he will be the father of a great nation and, then, the long years of Sarah’s barrenness and the real question of how this “great nation” was actually going to happen..
• The birth of Ishmael and, at long last, the seemingly impossible birth of Isaac, that boy they called “laughter.” 
• Then, as we heard last week, Abraham’s casting out--his divorcing of Hagar and his first son, Ishmael, with great distress.

And, now, this? Don’t you just want to say, “Really, God? Do you really need to do this?” 

Abraham’s response? Well, when once again God called his name, all he simply said was, “Here I am.” Here I am. (I’m not so sure I would have answered in the same way.)

After he answered, then God laid out for him the nature of the test.

I have to admit to you up front that I have a love-hate relationship with this story. I love the faithful obedience of Abraham. How he doesn’t question God. How he simply packs up the things he will need on this journey, including his one remaining son, and just moves forward, doing what God asks him to do. I love this aspect of the story.

But the part I dislike, the part I honestly hate, is the very same faithful obedience of Abraham. Why didn’t he challenge God’s need to test him after everything that had happened? And, especially, why didn’t he challenge God’s command to sacrifice his only child, or any child, for that matter? What kind of god is it that says you will be made into a great nation through this one son and then tells you to take that very son and sacrifice him?

Can you tell, that I really struggle with this text. Do you, too?

I struggle with two things. First, I struggle with the very idea that God tests Abraham, particularly, after everything he has been through. Why? Does God need to be sure? Does God need to impose this one-time test of Abraham because God has risked everything on this one man? Does God just need to know that Abraham will be faithful? Does God, perhaps, test us, too? Trying to find out if we are faithful. If we have put God first in our lives, above everything--our possessions, our family, our country? If we really do believe and follow that first commandment--You shall have no other gods.

And, then, secondly, I struggle with the nature of the test God is commanding of Abraham, of child sacrifice. A prevalent practice at the time which we know God did reject. I struggle with this because it seems so contrary to the New Testament God I know.  A God who actually did sacrifice a son. Who must have been just as torn up inside about it as I imagine Abraham was. Who must have suffered as deeply as Abraham did at the thought of giving up an only son. And for what? For us? For us and for the whole world, all of us mired in sin? Who frequently sacrifice our own children. Who are complicit in the deaths of children for poverty or for lack of decent healthcare, or because they die attempting to cross borders to get away from violence and civil war and are turned back, or because they die as a result of us sending them off to war. 

I struggle with this. And I don’t have any answers. No good response.

Perhaps the only response is to simply weep. To weep at the tragedy and misery in our communities, our nation, our world. To weep at the tragedy in our own lives and those we love. To weep at the horrible choices we have no other choice but to make. 

To weep. And to trust. Like Abraham, to simply trust that God is present and that God will provide.

There’s an interesting word play in our story today. It’s perhaps helpful for us in understanding the steady trust of Abraham. 

At the beginning of our story, God tells Abraham to take Isaac to the land of Moriah. There is no land known by this name. The Hebrew word used for this land, Moriah, occurs only one other place in the Hebrew scriptures. In 2nd Chronicles. Here, it is used to identify the mountain in Jerusalem where the temple would be built. Mount Moriah.The place where, for the Jews, God was present. Where God came down to be present among God’s people. 

The meaning of this word in Hebrew--the word Moriah--is “God will provide” or “God will see.” It’s the same thing Abraham spoke to Isaac when Isaac asked Abraham where the lamb would come for the burnt offering. “God will provide,” Abraham said to Isaac.

“God is present and God will provide.” This is the full meaning of Abraham’s words to his son. It is what he believes. It is the basis for his trust. That, after these things. After all these things God has called Abraham to do and has brought him through, Abraham has been witness to God’s faithful presence and God’s faithful providence.

It’s the same message for us, these thousands of years later. When we don’t have the answers. When we struggle with all that is going on in our world. When we are afraid and don’t know what or where God is calling us to, or when it feels as though we are being put to the test. We can can rely upon the same faithful God as Abraham. And that God will be present and that God will provide. It is what we believe. It is the basis for our faith.

May God grant it. Amen.

Claimed

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a Jewish leader. He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.”

Nicodemus asked, “How is it possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb for a second time and be born, isn’t it?”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. Whatever is born of the flesh is flesh, and whatever is born of the Spirit is spirit. Don’t be surprised that I said to you, ‘You must be born anew.’ God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

“Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human One be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him.  -John 3:1-17 (CEB)

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

I love ritual. That sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it? But, I admit it. I love ritual. I’m a creature of habit.  Whether it’s my morning ritual that begins each day, hopefully, with a cup of coffee, or whether it’s our weekly pattern of worship, our ritual, that follows the order of the mass that comes down to us from the early church--whatever the ritual, I love it.

So, it’s probably no wonder that, in seminary, my favorite courses were those about the rituals of the church, especially those of the early church. For me, studying them has helped me better understand many of the rituals that we follow today--nearly all of which came out of the early church. Studying them also gives me a deeper understanding of Scripture and the beliefs of the early church, beliefs that arose out of the Hebrew scriptures and those, written by the apostles, that we call the New Testament.  

Last week, we began over these 40 days of Lent to take a look at our our ritual of baptism. We began to look at it, thinking that, if we better understand the promises made in this ritual, we might better become the baptismal people we profess to be. That we might better become the story we tell. 

We began last week with the three renunciations. Those three questions asked of every baptismal candidate--questions that we still ask today. Do you renounce the devil? Do you renounce the ways of the world? Do you renounce the ways of sin?

In the early church, before these three renunciations, the candidates would have been stripped of all clothing. Stripped of their jewelry. Stripped away of anything that might suggest their former life. They would then be led naked, down into the water. Into a river or a moving stream. It was here, waste-deep in water, that they would be turned to face west. West. The place of the setting sun. Of the beginning of darkness. Of night. Or, symbolically, the place of unbelief.

Facing west, they would speak the three renunciations, declaring their intent to renounce all those things that separate us from God. Then, the priest would blow three times into each candidate’s nostrils. This blowing or breath was a ritual intended to signify the coming of the Spirit. The in-breathing of the Holy Spirit. The entry of the breath of God. 

Next, although there are some variations in the early rituals, the candidates would then be anointed on the forehead and the chest with oil--an “Oil of Catechumens.” This anointing symbolized the need of each person for the help and strength of God to sever the bondage of the past and to overcome the opposition of the devil and the powers of darkness so that they might profess their faith, come to baptism, and be claimed as a child of God. 

Once this anointing with oil was concluded, the candidates were, once again, asked three questions. These questions, though, were unlike the previous renunciations. This time, the questions were about beliefs. They are the same questions we ask today.

“Do you believe in God the Father?”
“Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God?”
“Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?”

Do you believe? 

Believing. That’s the point of our Gospel text today. The reason Nicodemus came to Jesus at night. In the dark. In unbelief. Seeking to believe.

Oh, perhaps, Nicodemus was on his way to believing. After all, he and the others had witnessed the signs--the miracles--Jesus did. And, they had decided that no one could do this things unless they were of God.

But seeing the signs is not enough. The kingdom of God can’t be seen with physical eyes. Rather it is a reality that can only be perceived through the eyes of the Spirit, after a person has been born “anew” or “from above.” The kingdom of God can only be seen by those who have experienced a spiritual rebirth. Who have been “born again.”

Now, being “born again” is not a re-commitment. It isn’t a decision we make once we’re past the age of consent. 

To be “born again” or to be “born from above” is a spiritual rebirth that is worked in us by God through the power of the Holy Spirit. It is a spiritual rebirth into the family of God, where, just like a child, we recognize that our entire existence depends upon God. That we are fully dependent upon and trust in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. For everything we need. 

To be “born again” is to recognize that there is nothing we do to receive this new birth--that it is a call from God through the Holy Spirit to enter into full relationship with God. To come into the full presence of God and to find wholeness and new life.

To be “born again” is to know that God’s desire is that the whole world would come to be saved, to gain eternal life. God’s desire is not to judge the world, but to save the world. 

And to be “born again” is to know that in our baptism and every Sunday when we say the words of the Creed, “I believe,” we are saying that we trust. We trust in God the Father Almighty. We trust in Jesus Christ. We trust in the Holy Spirit. We trust. And, in trusting, we are doing much, much more than simply consenting to a belief in a particular Christian doctrine. We are giving witness of this relationship with God to the entire world.

That’s what Jesus was offering Nicodemus--to come into the same relationship and to exist in the presence of God. But, eventually, he did. And eventually it was he, along with others, who anointed and buried the body of Christ after his death on the cross.

Last week, I sent you home with a wilderness stone. It was something to keep in your pocket during the week to remind you that, when you are tested, Jesus has passed the test for you. 

This week, as we leave worship, I will be giving you a small bottle of anointing oil. May you use this during the week, perhaps by marking the sign of the cross on your forehead or by anointing your hands in service. May this be, as it was in the baptismal rituals of the early church--may this be a reminder to you that in your own rebirth, God has claimed you.  Claimed you to be God’s own child, claimed you to be in full relationship with God, and claimed you to be given new life in God’s kingdom. Forever and ever.

This is what we believe. This is what we trust.

Amen.

Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday in Lent.
Readings: Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17.

I Pledge Allegiance

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Sound familiar? For some of us it brings back distant memories from childhood, standing at the start of each school day, hand to heart, pledging allegiance to the flag of our country and all that that means.

For some of us, it may reflect what we do every day, in school as a student or teacher, as a scout leader or any other vocation where we regularly pledge allegiance to our country.

Pledging allegiance. This is the topic of our text today. Pledging allegiance.

Now I know that, so often, as we’ve heard this story of Jesus being tempted (or tested, which is another translation of the word), so much of our focus has been on sin and on the devil. On resisting temptation and the forces of evil.  

Traditionally, this text has always come during Lent, those 40 days when we are so focused on giving up our vices. Whether it’s chocolate, Facebook, failing to work out. Whatever it is. Lent is the time it seems to try to give something up, to deprive ourselves.  And a time, if you’re like me, when we fail. Inevitably.

I think we’ve really misunderstood and, perhaps, even misused this text as an example from Jesus of how to resist temptation. How to resist sin. (As though this is something we can even do.)

No, instead, I think this text speaks to us about allegiance. About pledging allegiance. About to whom or to what we pledge our allegiance.

So, let’s look at it. 

During the past season of Epiphany we’ve jumped around a bit in our Matthew gospel. We moved from Jesus’ baptism and fast forwarded to his ministry of healing and teaching and proclaiming the coming of God’s kingdom. We ended last Sunday on the mountaintop and witnessed God affirming both Jesus as God’s Son and the path chosen for him.

Today’s text pushes us backwards in time, to the period just after Jesus’ baptism. The Holy Spirit has led Jesus into the wilderness to be tested. To see if he is ready for the task that God has sent him for. Jesus has fasted - a widespread and valued act of devotion in his time. He has done this over 40 days (Hmmm. Does that number sound familiar?) And now Jesus is ready to face the Devil. 

It is no accident that Jesus is here. He is not lost. He is not being punished for something wrong he has done.

No, Jesus, has been led by the Holy Spirit to this very place for a purpose. To be tested. The debate he is about to enter into with the Devil, or Diabolos in the Greek, is really an assessment tool. A threefold test, or more rather, proof, of his readiness as God’s beloved Son for the mission that God has entrusted to him.

This past Wednesday, we talked briefly about the history of the 40 days of Lent. Traditionally, it was a time of learning for those newer to the faith. A time to devote themselves to the traditional disciplines of Lent-- caring for the poor, fasting, and immersion in Scripture and prayer. It was 40 days of devotion and fasting - very much like Jesus’ period of 40 days in the wilderness. And, also, like that of Jesus, it was a time of preparation for their own test, the assessment of their own readiness to embark upon the mission that God had called them to and entrusted them with. 

That test, for these early believers, would come on the eve of Easter, at the Easter Vigil, when they would be baptized. Early in the baptismal rite, they would be asked three questions. Tests, really. Just as the Devil tested Jesus with three questions, so, too, these new believers would be tested, or questioned, as part of their baptism. 

We take the same test. The same assessment. The same pledge of allegiance. If you open your hymnals to page 229 you will see these three questions. We call them the three renunciations:

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

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

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

These three questions are the same ones that have been asked for thousands of years in the church. These are the same questions asked of Jesus in the wilderness. To whom will you pledge allegiance? Who will you follow? In whom will you put your trust?

Will you pledge allegiance to the forces of darkness that defy God? Will you follow the powers of this world or of our culture that rebel from and seek to deny God? Will you trust yourself instead of putting your trust in God?

Like Jesus in the wilderness, we take the test. And in our baptisms we pledge our allegiance to God. To follow God. To trust God.

Yet, unlike Jesus, we have miserably failed in our own pledge of allegiance to God. Our pledge to follow God. To trust God. 

And, yet, this is the promise of the Gospel: God with us. Jesus has gone before us, even to the most forsaken places of the wilderness. He meets us in the most difficult tests of our lives. There is no place so desolate, so distant, so challenging, the Jesus has not already been there. There is no test so great that Jesus has not overcome it. 

All of this, Jesus has done for us. So that, even in our failure, we pass the test.

Over these next 40 days, we will be looking at our baptismal promises. We will be studying them, what they mean for us as individuals and what they mean for us as a community. We tell this amazing story of how God is with us in Jesus--the one who passed the test for us. As we look more deeply at our baptismal promises, I pray that we will become more of that story that we tell. That we will become the story we tell so we may more fully share that story in word and deed.

And, so, during these 40 days of Lent, I have a reminder of this for you. It is a wilderness stone, of sorts. A stone for you to carry with you each day. 

When those moments come when you are tested, you might hold it in your hand and remember that Jesus has passed the test for you and for me. That Jesus knows all of the difficulties and the heartaches and the challenges we face. And that, in Jesus, God has promised to be with us as we go about our work of sharing this Good News in the work we do and in the words we say…

”I pledge allegiance to my God.”

May God help us to all live more fully into this pledge. Amen.