Grounded in Creation: Water (Part 1)

 The text for this Sunday is the story of Jesus and the Woman of Samaria at the well. It's found in John, chapter 4. Here are a few preliminary thoughts...

This story begins with an interesting sentence. It tells us that Jesus had to go through Samaria. Now, I'm pretty certain Jesus didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do. And, if you look at a map, there were other routes from Galilee south to Judea. Easier routes, honestly. Rather than to traverse through a countryside populated with people considered enemies to the Jews. All, as is so often the case, because of one doctrinal conflict. But, why did he have to go through Samaria? 

Jesus makes his way through Samaria. And stops, not coincidentally, at a well connected to Jacob. And that is actually called Jacob's well. It's in an area called Shechem, which is the first piece of land Jacob bought upon returning to what would become "the Promised Land." It's a physical link from the patriarchs to Jesus - a place of connection. That's what wells were in ancient times - a place where people would come to gather their water in the morning, when it was cool. So it was a meeting-place, too.

But, the woman in this story comes at noon - the hottest part of the day. There's not a good explanation for this in the actual text. There's been a lot of conjecture that because, at least how this story has been told for centuries, she was a woman of "questionable" character. So, in her shame and to avoid others, she would come to the well at midday, an time when she would be unlikely to meet anyone else. There's more about this interpretation further down. 

So, Jesus stops there on his way through Samaria. He's hot. And tired. And she arrives and begins to draw water. Notice that Jesus asks her to draw water for him. That's the way Jesus is - always trying to move into relationship. Particularly with those who, at least in Jesus' day, would be considered on the edge of society. In her case, likely because she was female. But also, because - we learn - that she has had multiple husbands and is now living with someone who we learn is not her husband.

Karoline Lewis, in her commentary on the gospel of John, talks alot about this, pushing back on the many centuries of patriarchal interpretation that always seem to shame her. To diminish her. Lewis argues that there are many different explanations possible for this. One of these could be that of levirate marriage. Levirate marriage was a Levitical requirement to ensure that women who were widowed would be protected, both physically and financially, as well as, to continue the patrilineal line. It is very possible that this woman could have been widowed more than once and legitimately living with a brother-in-law as she would be essentially "passed down" the family line. It's hard for us, with a 21st century framework, to understand how this might have been a good thing.

All of this is to say that there are other potential explanations for her situation that are not shame-inducing. Or that seek to diminish her. Notice that nowhere in the story does Jesus condemn her. So, how do you build "connection" (see paragraph 2 above)? Or rather what don't you do, in order to build connection? I would you don't condemn someone. Just as Jesus didn't condemn her.

My focus, though, this week is on water. That, too, is a focus of this story. But, I'm not quite there yet. So...to be continued...

Peace,

Karleen

Encountering the Messiah: Abundant Life

We’re going to begin today as we did last week. With a little game. This is a game of seeking and finding. Behind me, throughout the space in my apartment that should be visible to you, you’ll find several crosses. I invite you to look for them and to count them as you look. I’ll give you just a minute to do that.

So, who found at least four crosses? You can give me a real thumbs up or use the “thumbs up” on Zoom. Who found five crosses? Six? Seven? There are seven paper crosses!

The reason there are seven different crosses is because in the Gospel of John there are seven signs or miracles that Jesus performs. Remember last week? When Jesus promised Nathaniel that he would see “even greater things?” These signs and miracles are part of the greater things that Jesus promised. In today’s lesson, we will see Jesus’ first sign.

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the celebration. When the wine ran out, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They don’t have any wine.”

Jesus replied, “Woman, what does that have to do with me? My time hasn’t come yet.”

His mother told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Nearby were six stone water jars used for the Jewish cleansing ritual, each able to hold about twenty or thirty gallons

Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water,” and they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Now draw some from them and take it to the headwaiter,” and they did. The headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine. He didn’t know where it came from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew.

The headwaiter called the groom and said, “Everyone serves the good wine first. They bring out the second-rate wine only when the guests are drinking freely. You kept the good wine until now.” This was the first miraculous sign that Jesus did in Cana of Galilee. He revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him. --John 2:1-11 (CEB)

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

We might ask why the beginning of Jesus’ ministry begins at a wedding. Does anyone have any idea?

Let’s be honest - Jesus liked parties. He liked people. As we will see in the gospel of John, he especially liked sinners. The Jesus captured in John is a relational Jesus. Always in conversation with people. So, it makes sense that this first sign - this first miracle - should be at a celebration of relationships. The joining of two people in relationship. And their families, too. 

Weddings in Jesus’ day were a big deal. They lasted for days. Running out of wine was a huge problem for this wedding feast. The host had invited everyone to come and to celebrate. Many people probably traveled far to get there. And, now, there is nothing left for them to drink. They wouldn’t have been able to just go to the store or to make a quick run to Total Wine to get some more. Jesus’ mother - and notice that she is not named and, in fact, this is the last time we will see her until we meet her at the foot of the cross - Jesus’ mother notices that they have run out of wine. She knows that he can do something about this. So she encourages Jesus to help. Gives him a little nudge. “Come on, Jesus. It’s time for you to show the world who you are.”

But, Jesus’ response to her seems a little harsh. “Woman, what does that have to do with me?” A female clergy group I’m online with had a real problem with Jesus speaking to his mother in this way. It seems so impersonal, even unfriendly. And, while there may be many other theological reasons for this, I asked them online if any of them had a 33-year-old son. Because if you do, you know the comments that they will make to you, accompanied by the eye-rolls, right? Like, “Geez, Mom, gimme a break!” Or even “Woman, what are you talking about?” So, even with Jesus’ mother knowing his divinity, there’s something here, too, about his humanity. That he is both. Which also includes being a 33-year-old son.

But, Jesus listens to her. And then he takes these six large clay vessels. Each of them with a capacity of 20-30 gallons. And he transforms the water in them - water that was likely meant for washing and not drinking. He transforms this water into the best wine of all! But, it wasn’t just that it was the best wine of all. But, it was the amount of it. The abundance of the wine Jesus made. I did the math this week. We’re talking anywhere from 140-180 gallons of wine. That’s the equivalent of 700-900 bottles of wine. At 12 bottles per case, that’s anywhere from 58 to 75 cases of wine. So this wasn’t only the best wine. It was a huge amount - an abundant amount - of the best wine. 

The chief steward is blown away. He wonders where this wine came from. I bet the bridegroom was wondering, too. But Jesus’ mother knew. So did the servants, too. 

In the opening words of this gospel of John, what we call the prologue, we heard this witness of John: “‘He who comes after me is greater than me because he existed before me.’ From his fullness we have all received grace upon grace.” From his fullness we have all received grace upon grace.

I mentioned at the beginning that this is the first of seven signs. These signs that point the disciples and others (and us) to understand who this Jesus is and why he has come. If we continue in John’s witness we read that it is through him - God’s only Son, that God is made known to us. It is this God - revealed to us in Christ - that we learn desires only life for us. Abundant life. Bottles and cases and gallons of life for us.

I recognize that in these past couple of years and, especially, in these past few weeks it’s been hard to see that. Maybe even hard to believe this - that God desires only the most abundant life for us, a life that overflows with all of the goodness and relationships and love that you and I can imagine. 

But, as we work our way through John and through the remaining six signs it will be the last sign that will make all the difference. For Jesus’ mother. For Jesus’ disciples. And for us. That sign - the cross - will take the most hopeless of moments and transform it into the most abundant, life-giving, “grace upon grace upon grace” moment of all. For us.

May we recognize these signs that point us to God. And may we hold fast to the promise of abundant life that God promises for us, through Jesus. Amen.

Preached January 16, 2022, online with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Epiphany 2

Readings: John 2:1-11, Psalm 104:14-16

 

Promises of Hope: Thinking Theologically at Grace & Glory

I’ve mentioned this before, but one of my goals as your pastor has been to help each of you grow in your ability to think theologically. It’s something I do. It’s something each of you do. It’s a way of being where you make decisions about stuff in your lives that draws on your beliefs. Beliefs that are often so deeply embedded within us that we are not even aware of them. That are almost second nature for us.

Today, we’re going to do something a little bit different. There’s an issue we’ve been talking about on council - related to the pond on our property. As you may or may not know, earlier this year, we leased a couple of acres of the property we own east of here to three newly-emigrated refugee families, who are operating under the name of Kachin Farm. They are mentored by Green Earth Gardens, which is an arm of Catholic Charities. The lease gives them use of this small parcel of land for vegetable farming, in exchange for providing 10% of their production to our food pantry. It’s a win-win situation. We help new immigrants build a better life for themselves. And our pantry members get fresh produce.

One of the questions Kachin Farms has been asking is whether the pond can sustain an irrigation system. As you can imagine, this would increase and stabilize the production of their gardens. They’ve consulted with the USDA, who have determined that our pond has “lost it’s integrity.” Meaning there’s a crack in the clay bottom of the pond that is allowing water to drain out. Reducing the amount of water in the pond. The proposal is that the pond be dredged out and that the clay bottom be replaced. With this improvement, the USDA folks think then that it could sustain irrigation.

There’s concern on our council about whether this will work. If it does, great. But, if it doesn’t, what might the long-term effect be. There’s also some question around whether the pond really can sustain an irrigation system. There are a few more concerns, but these two are primary.

So, to help us think theologically about this issue, today we’re going to dig into our text from Amos. And hopefully hear how it might speak to us in a way that helps us think theologically and, perhaps even, to reframe the conversation a bit.

We begin in Amos, chapter 1. 

The words of Amos, who was among the shepherds of Tekoa, which he saw concerning Israel in the days of King Uzziah of Judah and in the days of King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel, two years before the earthquake.

And he said:

The Lord roars from Zion,
    and utters his voice from Jerusalem;
the pastures of the shepherds wither,
    and the top of Carmel dries up.

What do we know about Amos? Well, from these two short verses we know that he is from Tekoa - a small down just outside of Jerusalem. In other words, he’s from the southern kingdom of Judah. These verses also give us a time frame - probably around 750 BCE. We also know that he is a sheep breeder. The NRSV translation calls him a shepherd, but, a better translation of the Hebrew is that of sheep breeder. He’s a man of means - probably pretty middle class. Invested in the economic system. And, yet, as we will soon hear, also preaching against it. And the people he’s preaching to? Those in the north. So he’s a southern prophet preaching to the northern tribes. 

Verse 2 gives us a little prologue of what we are about to hear. God is angry. Roaring like a lion out of Jerusalem. God is not to be found - as God was last week - in the silence. The effect of this is that the pastures and the summit of Mt. Carmel in the north have dried up. This area was known as a rich agricultural area, full of vineyards. Like our present-day Napa Valley. It’s now dried up, an effect of God’s anger. Amos is giving us a prelude of what is to come - like the older brother warning us when we get home from school that Mom is mad. But why is God mad?

Let’s read on in chapter 5. 

Seek good and not evil,
    that you may live;
and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you,
    just as you have said.
Hate evil and love good,
    and establish justice in the gate;
it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts,
    will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

The opening verses of this passage seem straightforward. Do good and not evil. But is this really what Amos is saying. To just be a “good” person. If we go back just a few verses, we read that, perhaps, it’s not that simple. In these previous verses, it appears that there’s a perversion of justice. That people are controlling the food supply in a way that’s making them rich. And impoverishing others. It takes us back to the manna story, where even though there was enough for everyone there were those who hoarded. It’s contrary to the economy of God that is laid out in Deuteronomy. Where there is to be economic distribution so that both the rich and the poor are both living well enough. It may be that some have more than others, but everybody has enough. And no one has ridiculous amounts. But, the problem is that the people with access are hoarding it. And God does not like this.

So, in verse 14, when we read the directive to seek good, it’s not about being nice to other people, but it’s about ensuring economic justice for everyone. This is why God is angry. Because doing economic justice is important to God. It’s where God’s heart is. And where God wants our heart to be, too. Amos is talking to people here - like you and I - who think they’re doing the right thing, but who just quite get it. The message here is that if we don’t get it then the day of God’s return - the day of the Lord - will not be a good day. This is a sharp, painful message. For the people of Amos’ time. For us, too.

We conclude our reading.

I hate, I despise your festivals,
    and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings,
    I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
    I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
    I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,

   and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

It might sound as though God hates our worship. Our festival services. Our sacraments. Our rituals. I wonder though if what God hates is hollow worship. Worship that is disconnected from doing justice. Because, when there is justice, there will be water overflowing and the land will produce. And the whole community will prosper. It’s a great system. Built by God. Where generosity begets generosity. And abundance creates even more abundance. For everyone. 

So, what might this mean for us and the pond and our farmers? Clearly, we are called to properly steward this land that we hold in trust from God. Yet, what we hear Amos telling us - what we hear God telling us - is that we should always side on that of economic justice. Ensuring that everyone has enough to thrive. How might this understanding inform our decision?

You and I have been freed by God in grace - freed from the burden of our sin through the power  of Christ on the cross. Freed to love our neighbor. Freed to ensure that every one of our neighbors is thriving. As we worship today, know that this call of the prophet Amos is not a call to stop worshiping, but a call to do worship and to do justice. And, especially, to do justice abundantly. Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Amen.

Preached November 14, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect

Pentecost 25

Readings: Amos 1:1-2, 5:14-15, 21-24; John 7:37-38

God Creates Family: Created to Be

In the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens, when no plant of the field was yet in the earth and no herb of the field had yet sprung up—for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was no one to till the ground; but a stream would rise from the earth, and water the whole face of the ground— then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being. And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east; and there he put the man whom he had formed. Out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

A river flows out of Eden to water the garden, and from there it divides and becomes four branches. The name of the first is Pishon; it is the one that flows around the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold; and the gold of that land is good; bdellium and onyx stone are there. The name of the second river is Gihon; it is the one that flows around the whole land of Cush. The name of the third river is Tigris, which flows east of Assyria. And the fourth river is the Euphrates.

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.”

Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. The man gave names to all cattle, and to the birds of the air, and to every animal of the field; but for the man there was not found a helper as his partner. So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; then he took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the Lord God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said,

“This at last is bone of my bones
    and flesh of my flesh;
this one shall be called Woman,
    for out of Man this one was taken.”

Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh. And the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed.  --Genesis 2:4b-25 (NRSV)

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

Here we go again! One more time we begin at the beginning.

It’s the pattern of our Narrative Lectionary readings - we begin each fall at the beginning of scripture. In the Hebrew scriptures. With a creation - and sometimes a re-creation - story.

Last year, we started the year with the story of Noah. And that great ark full of animals escaping the flood. A story of God’s re-creation of a world that had become almost entirely evil. And a story with a promise, sealed with a rainbow, that God would never again destroy the earth.

This year we begin in Genesis 2. This is a second creation story. Yet, even though it is the second of the two creation stories, scholars believe that it actually was the first creation story written down. During the time of the reign of David. And that the first story of creation in Genesis is actually the second story. Written down during the time of Israel’s Babylonian exile - a myth that was perhaps needed to help the people make sense - make order - out of the chaos they were experiencing. 

That first story gives us the Google Earth version. From high above at the cosmic level, we see God’s hand at work. In a more general way. Separating the waters. Creating the animals and the sea creatures. The plants. And creating humanity. Creating humanity. Today’s story - the second Genesis story, but, again, the first written - is a story from Google Maps Street View. Down on the ground. With much more detail. And much more intimacy.

It’s a place that, unlike the Genesis 1 version, lacks water. A land that is barren. There are no plants and no animals. Because there is no water. And no one to care for the land. At least not yet. The only sign of life is a stream that rises out of the earth and begins to water the fertile land. A living stream that begins to turn the dry, dusty place of no life into one with life.

It’s out of that dust that God forms the first human. Adam in the Hebrew. Not a word that means man or that is the proper name of a man. But a word that means “human.” God forms human - literally, the act of an artist, a descriptive act of the life and work of a potter. There is God in the dirt, making mud, toiling over a potter’s wheel, forming and shaping this first human being. Genderless at this point. Earth creature. We might call this being, “Dusty.” Formed out of the dust of the dry, barren plain. 

It is then that God breathes into Dusty the “breath of life.” That unique gift of our holy God that makes a living being out of all of us bits of dusty brokenness. God breathes into this earth creature God’s very own Spirit. 

Then, God turns from this human to form a garden in Eden (a word that means “pleasant”). And it is into the midst of this garden where God places this adam. God continues to create, making trees - beautiful trees with fruit for eating. And two trees in particular are noted in our story, created by God. The tree of life. And the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Theologians talk about this second tree, in particular - the tree that will later on cause a problem. A rupture in the relationship between God and human. This tree brings with it an understanding of the “weal and woe” or the deep sadness and great joy that is the human condition. Hearing the story for the first time, we might begin to wonder why there is this special attention on these two trees. How will the trees and Dusty relate to each other? What will Dusty’s role be in this beautiful garden of God?

Our story continues. Soon there are four rivers placed to distribute water to the world. The source of each of these rivers - the Pishon, the Gihon, the Tigris, and the Euphrates. Rivers that flow into all parts of the civilization. Rivers that have their source in God’s garden. Then, God tells Dusty to “farm” (or to “serve) and to “take care of” (or to “guard”) the garden. If this were a church, Dusty would be the chair of the landscaping committee. Dusty’s role is not simply to guard the garden, but to work it. To make it better. To steward the entire garden. Well, almost the entire garden. Because there is one part that is off limits. Every tree laden with fruit is available to Dusty for food and nourishment. Every tree except for one tree - that tree that, if its fruit is eaten, will open Dusty’s eyes and give a full and complete understanding of the agony and ecstasy that is the human condition. Because eating of this one tree will lead to a certain death.  One wonders if that death is a death of innocence.

We already see an interdependence that God has created between the human and creation. A mutuality. A relationship. The human cares for creation. Creation responds by providing sustenance and food. And beauty.

But, God is not done yet. Because God does not want the human to be lonely. Because God has created all of humanity to be in relationship with one another. And so God creates and brings each animal to the human. Searching for the perfect partner for Dusty. One can just imagine the scene. God brings the animal forward. How about this one, Dusty? Look at this duck-billed platypus. Don’t you think it would be a great partner for you? A complementary helper? And the human just shakes the head. “No God, that’s not quite it!” Over and over God brings animal after animal to the human, who is also given the responsibility of naming each animal. That giving of a name that so often is the beginning of a relationship. Yet, each now-named animal, is not quite right. 

And so God puts the human to sleep and out of this human creates two humans, two genders. Man. And woman, who is man’s helper. The Hebrew word for helper used here is the same word used throughout the Hebrew scripture to refer to God. So this woman is not a being that is lesser than man, but a partner. In the same way God seeks to be a partner with all of humanity.

This is the end of the second creation story. The family that God has created can now live together in God’s garden. Mutually dependent upon each other and creation. In relationship with one another and all creation. The author concludes the story, saying that both the man and woman are “naked” but not “ashamed.” It’s a clear distinction between this wonderful garden and where we now live. A distinction between life without shame and life with shame.

Because that’s what sin does, isn’t it? Whether our nakedness is physical or psychological, it results in shame. Shame that makes us strike back out of our own feelings of inadequacy. Shame that leads us to hurt one another. To blame each other. To harm our relationships. To break apart our families and our communities. To destroy creation. Shame is at the root of our problem as human beings because we never feel good enough. Never feel adequate enough. In our nakedness we are ashamed.

Yet, this is not God’s desire for us. God’s will for us can be witnessed in Christ. God in human form come to us to bear the weight of our shame so that we might, once again, experience the beauty and wonder of life in God’s garden. Of the wholeness of life in relationship with God. Of life in families of all shapes and sizes. Life here, in this place. Lives of mutuality and interdependence and relationship. Lives of beauty and purpose. Lives in relationship with God, our creator. Who breathes into us God’s own Spirit - and with the holy water restores us into relationship. Relationship that is here and now. And that will continue forever into all eternity.

This is where the story begins again today. Where are you in the story?

Preached September 8, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 13.
Readings: Genesis 2:4b-25; Mark 1:16-20.

God's Power: Awe-some Power

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” Matthew 14:13-33 (NRSV)

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

Did you catch the opening phrase of our reading today? Did you notice it? “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat…” When Jesus heard this. Did you wonder what exactly it was that Jesus heard?

If, this past Friday, you read the appointed reading for the day in the handout that I push towards you each week at the door as you’re leaving, you already know that John the Baptist has been arrested by Herod. John had become a problem for Herod, because John had begun to publicly criticize Herod about a woman he was involved with - a woman who happened to be the wife of his brother. And, so, at the beginning of this chapter - chapter 14 - we hear that John is arrested. Then, in the verse just before today’s reading, Jesus learns that John is dead. That he has been beheaded by Herod.

So, it’s no wonder, is it, that, after hearing this devastating news, Jesus retreats in a boat to a deserted place? One has to wonder what he is thinking and feeling. Certainly, he was grieving over the loss of his friend and forerunner. Yet, it’s also hard to ignore that things seem to be escalating. That the conflicts between Jesus and the religious leaders over the Sabbath and other issues have begun. Conflicts that, we know will eventually result in Good Friday. 

This moment at the beginning of our story seems particularly dark, doesn’t it?

It’s kind of how I’ve been feeling over the past few weeks as I’ve accompanied several of you who have been going through hard challenges in your lives - issues related to health, to work, to the very real potential of losing loved ones in your lives. Then, with this winter weather in Kentucky, which, I guess, is the norm, but that I’m still adjusting to. Skies that are so constantly grey. The rain that seems never-ending. And the lack of sunshine. Then, if you add in the daily news out of Washington and from across the world - the ongoing news of our divided country and the seeming growth of totalitarian regimes - well, it all just feels so dark, doesn’t it? Is it just me that feels like this? I don't think so.

Then, just a couple of days ago, I received a text from my son, Michael. He sent me a message that Chip, their beloved guinea pig had died that morning. Now, I don’t mean to be trite. I grew up on a farm and have a very realistic understanding of the difference between the death of a human family member and that of a pet. Yet, our pets can certainly be as beloved as our family, can’t they? And in Chip’s case, well, for a guinea pig, he was pretty beloved. 

But, there’s another aspect to this that Chip’s life and death represents. You see, it was at the end of my son’s year-long deployment in Afghanistan, that Chip and Chestnut, another guinea pig, joined the family of my son and daughter-in-law. It’s as if their arrival marked a turning point for my son. Chip and Chestnut came at the end of a very dark period for him. And, in looking back these 7 years (Chip lived a long time for a guinea pig!), one can see how much Michael’s life has been renewed, finishing his degree in accounting and passing his CPA exam, plus beginning a new career and new life with his new wife. His life has been re-created, coming out of darkness into a new place. Into the light. 

There’s something about God and darkness. And, particularly, about God’s power in darkness. Did you notice in our reading this morning, that both of these events - the feeding of the 5,000 and Jesus’ walking on water - take place in the darkness? In the evening?

In the feeding of the 5,000 - and we should note that the number 5,000 represents only the men and not the women and children who were also present. In this story, Jesus has spent the daylight hours healing people in the huge crowd that had gathered. People have come from miles around, bringing their loved ones to Jesus to be healed. The time has passed quickly. They’ve been incredibly busy. The disciples, recognizing that it is evening, that this crowd is huge, and that they are in the middle of nowhere with no provisions to feed 15-20,000 people - they go to Jesus and say to him, “Send them away!” 

One has to wonder what they are thinking when Jesus tells them to give the crowd something to eat. Especially after the disciples had taken stock of how much food they actually had. Five loaves of bread. Two fish. My guess is that they were not very happy with Jesus. My guess, too, is that they completely underestimated the power of Jesus. Perhaps, even doubted the depth and breadth of that power.

And, then, there’s the story of Jesus’ walking on water. We won’t even go into the rules of matter that Jesus destroys with this one act. This week in a meeting, a few of us were dwelling in this story, focused more on Peter. And laughing at him a little bit.  Initially, he seems so bold, doesn’t he? But, then, as we continued to wonder through the story, we came up with the scenario that, perhaps, it was the other disciples who sent Peter out there. That they knew that Peter would be bold (or, perhaps, stupid) enough to be the one to try to walk on water. And, so, they sent him to go first out into the darkness. And, he almost made it, didn’t he? But, then, he became just a little afraid. And began to sink. And called out to Jesus, who grabbed his hand and who then accompanied him - walking on water with him - back to the boat. And to safety.

You see, I don’t think it’s an accident that both of these stories happen in the evening. At night. In the darkness. Because it is the midst of darkness, where God seems to do God’s best work. Whether it is in the midst of the darkness of the doubt and fear that the disciples experienced that night in the countryside or the next night on the lake. Or whether it’s in the midst of the darkness of our own lives - in times of doubt and fear, or grief and despair. Times that we so often seek to avoid.  

Richard Rohr is a contemporary Roman Catholic theologian. He writes these words: “We can’t leap over our grief work. Nor can we skip over our despair work. We have to feel it. That means that in our life we have some blue or dark days. Historic cultures saw it as the time of incubation, transformation, and necessary hibernation. It becomes sacred space, and yet this is the very space we avoid. When we avoid darkness, we avoid tension, spiritual creativity, and finally transformation. We avoid God who works in the darkness - where we are not in control! Maybe that is the secret.”

Maybe that is the secret. That, in the darkness where we are not in control, where our fear has gotten the better of us. Or where we, as Emmet Fox writes, “...[H]ave more faith in evil than in God.” It is in this darkness, where we are not in control, that God is. And is at work. Because, it is in the darkness where God does God’s best work. It was on that Friday afternoon, as darkness unexpectedly fell in the middle of the day, that God performed God’s most amazing and awe-some display of power. For you. And for me. On the cross. Because God loves us. And continues to love us. Not just once. But over and over and over again. And comes to us, like Peter, gently nudging us in the midst of our doubt and fear. “Oh, you! My beloved! You of such little and weak faith. Why did you doubt? Take courage. It is I. Don’t be afraid!” 

May we be like those disciples, who witnessed Jesus feeding the thousands - Jesus, who continues to care for our every need. May we be like those disciples, after the winds and turbulence of our lives have settled down. May we be like those disciples, after we have witnessed the awe-some power of God at work in our lives. May we be like them. Worshipping Jesus. And declaring for all the world to hear, “Truly, You are the Son of God.” Amen.

Preached February 24, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Epiphany 7.
Readings: Matthew 14:13-33, Psalm 95:1-5.

God's Promise of Jesus: Being Made New

In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord,

    make his paths straight.’”

Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Matthew 3:1-17 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from the Triune God: Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this week about water. As I was thinking about our worship on this day known as the Baptism of Our Lord, my mind began to wander as I was thinking about water.

When you think of water, what comes to mind for you? There are a few things for me. One of them is a memory from my childhood, when I was about seven years old. My dad loved to fish. So, on weekends, when the farm work was finished for the week, we’d travel as family to one of two rivers nearby. If we went an hour or so east, we’d run into the Missouri River - a river that was particularly known for its walleye. If we went a little northwest, we’d come to the Grand River. This was a muddier river and, because of it, was known for its catfish.

It was on one of these fishing trips that we were accompanied by two of my great uncles - Philip and John.

Now, I’m sure you can’t imagine this, but I was kind of a little brat growing up. I was the youngest, a little spoiled, and was kind of sneaky. On this particular fishing trip, I was in pretty rare form. As my dad and my two great uncles stood on the riverbank, casting for catfish, I decided it was my job that day to pester the heck out of them. I decided I would sneak up behind them and pour a small bucket of water on each of them.

Well, this only lasted a few times before my great uncles had had enough of me. The next time I began to sneak up on one of them, they were fully prepared. My Uncle John grabbed me. Then, my Uncle Philip grabbed me. They picked me up, one holding me under my arms and the other holding my feet. They started to swing me back and forth and, then, on the count of three, they promptly threw me in the river.

Now, fortunately, the Grand River was a pretty shallow river. It was more like a creek. And I knew how to swim, so there really wasn’t any danger involved. But, it is an experience I have never forgotten. The water was cold. I was fully clothed and got soaking wet. And I spent the rest of the day, somewhat uncomfortable in my damp clothing. (It was still worth it, though!)

For us, as children, water was something that fun to play in, especially during the warm days of summer. But, for my father, who was a rancher and a farmer, water meant a lot more. We lived in an area that didn’t have irrigation, so the feed crops my father grew were completely reliant upon the weather. 

Water was critical for our animals. There were many times that my father would have to go down to our creek in the winter and break through the ice so that they were able to drink. In the summer, he or my brother were constantly repairing the windmills that pumped water from the ground into big tanks for our livestock to drink. Our family’s livelihood was critically dependent upon water.

In our more urbanized lifestyle today, we rarely have to think about water or its availability. We just turn on the shower and it’s there. Or open the refrigerator door and grab a bottle to drink. And, here, in Louisville, where, last year, we experienced the wettest one on record, we’re almost mindless in how we use water. 

Today’s story is set near water. The Jordan River. It’s where our story opens as we introduced to John the Baptist. Some 30 years has passed between our story last week about Herod and the flight of Joseph and his family to Egypt to escape. Matthew describes him as a voice crying out of the wilderness. He occupies a place on the margins. On the margin of Jerusalem. On the margin of this center of power - this city that is the cultural, religious and political center of Judah. And, yet, even though he is on the margins, John’s ministry draws people out from the city and from the surrounding areas.  Large crowds, our text tells us. So large that John is referenced in all four of the Gospels. And even by Josephus, a Jewish historian from the time. 

Our story today tells us that these large crowds included Pharisees and Sadducees, two groups in opposition to each other in Jerusalem. Each fighting for power in Jerusalem. It’s no wonder that John calls them “You brood of vipers.” It's the start of a conflict that begins with John and, as we move through our Matthew text, we’ll see that it continues with Jesus. Our story also begins to show us a difference in the ministries of John and Jesus. John, who’s ministry is removed from the central location of the powerful elite. Jesus, who’s ministry begins on the margins, but will move into the centers of power, bringing challenge and conflict.

There is one thing, though, in today’s story the connects everything. It is the water. Or, more specifically, the water of baptism. 


Last September, we began our lectionary cycle with the story of Noah and the great flood. This is often called the second creation story. God’s reboot of creation. When water was used to cleanse a world that had become so very evil. A way for God to start over with a human creation to whom God had given free will. A human creation that, even after the flood, consistently seemed to separate itself from God and seek power for itself. 

How interesting it is that God then uses this same, simple element of water and with God’s Word claims us as God’s own. In baptism. Where, with the water and the Word, we are washed clean through the power of Christ’s cleansing death. Claimed, just as Jesus was claimed, as God’s beloved ones. God’s own. In whom God finds happiness. This is the power of our baptism. The power of the water with God’s Word. As Luther writes, “Baptism is an external sign...which so separates us from the world [so that]...now baptized we are thereby known as a people of Christ.” 

He speaks of the threefold aspects of our baptisms: the sign, its significance, and of faith. That the sign consists of the physical thrusting into water in the name of the Triune God--Father, Son and Holy Spirit. But, particularly, that we are not left there, but are drawn out again. He uses a German expression: aus der Taufe gehoben, which means that we are "lifted up" out of the baptismal water. 

This is the second aspect of our baptisms, then. The significance of our baptisms. That it is a dying to sin and resurrection in God’s grace. Where our old person - our old sinful person - is drowned. And a new person, born in grace, comes forth and arises. It is a washing of regeneration. A being made new. This significance, though, Luther writes, is not completely fulfilled in this life. Our spiritual baptisms, the complete drowning of sin, last as long as we live and are completed only in death. We give ourselves up to the sacrament of baptism, claiming our desire to die, together with our sins, and to be made new. God accepts this desire and grants us baptism. And, from that hour, begins to make us new people, by pouring into us God’s grace through the Holy Spirit. 

That, then, leads us to the third aspect of baptism: faith. Faith means that we firmly believe all of this. That we believe that, with our baptism, we have entered into a covenant with God to fight against sin and to slay it, while God promises to be merciful to us, to deal graciously with us, and to not judge us with severity. Luther writes that this faith is the most necessary aspect because it is the ground of our comfort. Philip Britts, who was a British writer and poet, pastor and naturalist from 70 years go, writes that “Faith is like water at the roots...If we have faith, we can face the sun, we can turn the heat and the light into life-giving fruits, into love...Faith is a gift like the rain and, like the rain, it is something to be watched for and prayed for and waited for.” 

This is baptism, then. Christ the water, incarnating God’s water of creation, flowing continuously in the Spirit, who waters the believers, who, then, themselves, become the spring of living water in the world.

In the water of baptism, with God’s Word, we are made new. So walk wet. Remember your baptism. Remember that God has created you for God’s purposes. It is God and not sin that holds a claim on your life. 

In your bulletin, you have a small piece of paper. I invite you now to reflect upon an area of your life that requires renewal, repentance, or a new beginning. Pray about this in silent confession. Write or draw something on your paper to symbolize it. And, then, when you are ready, come to the font and submerge your paper in the water and watch it dissolve. And give thanks to God for the chance to begin again. To, once again, be made new. Amen.

Preached January 13, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Epiphany 1
Readings: Matthew 3:1-17, Psalm 2:7-8

God's Promises Bring Hope: Grace and Freedom

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

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

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

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

Today, we hear the story of Moses. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Handmaid's Tale

The child grew, and was weaned; and Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned. But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, “Cast out this slave woman with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.” The matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son. But God said to Abraham, “Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman; whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for it is through Isaac that offspring shall be named for you. As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.

When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. Then she went and sat down opposite him a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot; for she said, “Do not let me look on the death of the child.” And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.

God was with the boy, and he grew up; he lived in the wilderness, and became an expert with the bow. He lived in the wilderness of Paran; and his mother got a wife for him from the land of Egypt. Genesis 21:8-21 (NRSV)

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

Since April, I’ve been a weekly television series on Hulu called The Handmaid’s Tale. Have any of you seen it? Well, it’s based upon a book with the same title written by Margaret Atwood in 1985. 

It’s set in the near future in New England, in a totalitarian theocracy that has overthrown the United States government. Did you hear the word “theocracy” there? This society--this theocracy--is one that is based upon a deeply perverted misreading of the laws and codes of the Old Testament.  The leaders of this culture believe that they are being punished by God for dangerously low reproduction rates. That they have failed to fulfill God’s mandate to be fruitful and multiply.

The story is narrated by Offred, a handmaid. A young woman, fertile and in her prime child-bearing years, who has been assigned to bear children for an elite couple who has trouble conceiving a child. Offred is not her real name. As a handmaid, her name consists of the word “of” followed by the name of her commander, who in this case is Fred. Of-Fred. 

Every month, when she is most fertile, she is required to have impersonal, wordless sex with the Commander while his wife sits behind her, holding her hands. Her freedom, like the freedom of all women, is completely restricted. She can leave the house only on shopping trips. The door to her room cannot be completely shut. And the Eyes, who are the secret police force, watch her every public move.

And, as I’ve been watching it, I’ve been struck by the growing power struggle between the two women--the commander’s handmaid and his wife--to be the one who is most important to the commander.  

It’s a frightening and disturbing story. And it’s similarities to the story today of the power struggle between Hagar and Sarah are just as frightening and disturbing.

That’s really what this is, isn’t it? A power struggle, right? A struggle between two women to gain power in their relationship with Abraham. A struggle between two women whose only power in society comes through their potential to produce an heir.

But, wait a minute. I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

Our story opens today with Isaac, the son of Abraham and Sarah. He has now reached the point in time to be weaned. In our world, this might mean that he was 8-9 months old, perhaps a little older. In the time of our story, he would have been breastfed until he was 2 or 3 years old. Infant mortality rates were very high. That Isaac had reached this point was a big deal. A rite of passage. Reaching this age gave much greater certainty to both Abraham and Sarah that Isaac would live to actually become Abraham’s heir. 

It was cause for celebration. So, that’s just what they did. Our story tells us that Abraham prepared a huge banquet.

It was during this celebration, or perhaps a short time later, that Sarah saw Ishmael laughing. You remember Ishmael, don’t you? He was the first-born of Abraham. The son of Hagar. Hagar, the Egyptian. Sarah’s slave given to Abraham. Given so he could have sex with her to make an heir. Since Sarah was barren and unable to produce one herself.

When Sarah saw Ishmael laughing, she got angry. It’s hard to really know why this made her so angry. Perhaps, seeing Ishmael reminded her of her former barren state. Perhaps, seeing him reminded Sarah of the way in which Hagar had treated her after Ishmael was born. How Hagar, who was able to produce an heir, had shown disrespect to Sarah, her master. 

Or perhaps it’s because when Sarah saw Ishmael, she was reminded that he was still a potential threat to Isaac. To Isaac’s inheritance. In a society where a woman’s entire value was measured by her ability to produce an heir.  In a society where a woman’s only source of power was through her children and, specifically, through her sons. In a society where a woman was completely dependent upon the wealth and inheritance of her husband and her sons. It is no surprise that Sarah viewed Ishmael, and also Hagar, as a potential threats to Isaac and to herself. 

And, so, Sarah goes to Abraham. And she demands that he send her away. That he divorce her. 

Abraham is very distressed by Sarah’s request. That she should ask him to send away his son. (Do you notice that our text says nothing about a concern for Hagar?) 

Yet, God speaks to Abraham. Tells him to comply with Sarah’s request. So, Abraham packs up some bread and a small amount of water and sends Ishmael and Hagar away. Into the desert. Where their water runs out. Where Hagar, who can’t bear to watch her son die, puts him under a tree a distance a way. She can’t watch and, yet, she still hears his cries.

If feels wrong somehow, doesn’t it? That God would side with Sarah in this mess. This big mess. Much of which is Sarah’s own making. It just feels wrong. That the woman who is the slave, the one with even less power than her mistress, the one who complied with Sarah’s wishes. It just feels wrong that she should be sent away. With her son. Who is even more innocent. That they should both be punished. Be cast aside. And that God would go along with it. It just feels wrong, doesn’t it?

How many times has this happened to you? That you’ve been cast aside? Been in a position with no power and been pushed aside? Pushed to the edges of your family? Or your friends? Or pushed to the edges of society? Like the elderly, like the disabled, like the poor, like those who are gay, or undocumented, or those who skin is the wrong color? Or those with the wrong religion or belief system. Cast out. Pushed to the edges. Where it seems as though they’ve been abandoned by family, by friends, by our world. Perhaps, even, by God?

But, this isn’t the end of the story. 

As the first season of the Handmaid’s Tale came to an end, Offred, the handmaid, learned that there were a number of people working quietly, working underground. Resisting. Resisting the the evil theocracy and those who had so devalued women. She begins to understand that this is not the end of the story. 

The desert scene with Hagar and Ishmael also wasn’t the end of the story. We read that God heard Ishmael’s cries. God came to Hagar and took both of them to a well where they might receive sustenance. Where they might receive life-giving water. And, then, God promised them greatness.

God hears you, too. God hears you and I and all those who have been cast aside, all who are on the edges. Broken, beaten down. Wracked by sin and guilt. Hurt by the evil of the world. God hears and comes, too. God takes us to the well and gives us water. Life-giving water. 

And, then, God promises greatness. Greatness that comes through love. Through the loving and life-giving act of Christ on the cross. Through the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit. 

We are called to this greatness through love. A love we have received through nothing we have done, but solely a result of God’s own love. A love that transforms and changes. A love that hears you and I and leaves no one cast out. 

This is the nature of our God. God leaves no one cast out or alone, left to die. No one.

For this, we praise God in the words of the psalmist today, “You are great! You do wondrous things! You alone are God!

Amen.

Preached June 25, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Third Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Genesis 21:8-21; Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17; Romans 6:1b-11; Matthew 10:24-39

A Drink of Water

Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was making more disciples and baptizing more than John (although Jesus’ disciples were baptizing, not Jesus himself). Therefore, he left Judea and went back to Galilee.

Jesus had to go through Samaria. He came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, which was near the land Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there. Jesus was tired from his journey, so he sat down at the well. It was about noon.

A Samaritan woman came to the well to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me some water to drink.” His disciples had gone into the city to buy him some food.

The Samaritan woman asked, “Why do you, a Jewish man, ask for something to drink from me, a Samaritan woman?” (Jews and Samaritans didn’t associate with each other.)

Jesus responded, “If you recognized God’s gift and who is saying to you, ‘Give me some water to drink,’ you would be asking him and he would give you living water.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, you don’t have a bucket and the well is deep. Where would you get this living water? You aren’t greater than our father Jacob, are you? He gave this well to us, and he drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.”

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks from the water that I will give will never be thirsty again. The water that I give will become in those who drink it a spring of water that bubbles up into eternal life.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will never be thirsty and will never need to come here to draw water!”

Jesus said to her, “Go, get your husband, and come back here.”

The woman replied, “I don’t have a husband.”

“You are right to say, ‘I don’t have a husband,’” Jesus answered. “You’ve had five husbands, and the man you are with now isn’t your husband. You’ve spoken the truth.”

The woman said, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you and your people say that it is necessary to worship in Jerusalem.”

Jesus said to her, “Believe me, woman, the time is coming when you and your people will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You and your people worship what you don’t know; we worship what we know because salvation is from the Jews. But the time is coming—and is here!—when true worshippers will worship in spirit and truth. The Father looks for those who worship him this way. God is spirit, and it is necessary to worship God in spirit and truth.”

The woman said, “I know that the Messiah is coming, the one who is called the Christ. When he comes, he will teach everything to us.”

Jesus said to her, “I Am—the one who speaks with you.”

Just then, Jesus’ disciples arrived and were shocked that he was talking with a woman. But no one asked, “What do you want?” or “Why are you talking with her?” The woman put down her water jar and went into the city. She said to the people, “Come and see a man who has told me everything I’ve done! Could this man be the Christ?” They left the city and were on their way to see Jesus.

In the meantime the disciples spoke to Jesus, saying, “Rabbi, eat.”

Jesus said to them, “I have food to eat that you don’t know about.”

The disciples asked each other, “Has someone brought him food?”

Jesus said to them, “I am fed by doing the will of the one who sent me and by completing his work. Don’t you have a saying, ‘Four more months and then it’s time for harvest’? Look, I tell you: open your eyes and notice that the fields are already ripe for the harvest. Those who harvest are receiving their pay and gathering fruit for eternal life so that those who sow and those who harvest can celebrate together. This is a true saying, that one sows and another harvests. I have sent you to harvest what you didn’t work hard for; others worked hard, and you will share in their hard work.”

Many Samaritans in that city believed in Jesus because of the woman’s word when she testified, “He told me everything I’ve ever done.” So when the Samaritans came to Jesus, they asked him to stay with them, and he stayed there two days. Many more believed because of his word, and they said to the woman, “We no longer believe because of what you said, for we have heard for ourselves and know that this one is truly the savior of the world.” (John 4:1-42, CEB)

Water. A drink of water. That’s how it all started. A drink of water. That’s it. One simple request for a drink of water. That’s how my life changed in a moment.

Has that ever happened to you? One day, as you’re going along and everything, finally, seems like it’s going well. And, then, something happens to change your life. Dramatically.

In the past, this has usually happened when my husband has announced that he’s divorcing me. This has happened to me five times. My existence as a woman in my world is precarious. My entire worth is wrapped around whether or not I can bear children. I’m unable to have children. Or, I’m barren, as they like to say. (I hate that word because it makes it sound as though I’m completely empty inside--like I am nothing because I can’t have a child.)  Five times my husbands have divorced me. Five times. 

As a single woman in my world, I am nothing. Even if I’d been widowed, I’d at least have some place in our society, some status. But, the fact that I’m female, divorced, and have no children, well that puts me at the bottom of our world. Abandoned property. Nothing. 

That day, the day my life changed, I had gone to the well to get water. I was there later than usual. I’d been busy doing things in my household. So, it was near midday and very hot when I finally got to the well, to Jacob’s Well. 

You remember that well, don’t you? It was the well where Jacob met Rachel. There’s a significance to this well and to all wells in my culture. It has traditionally been where we’ve been courted. A place where, especially as young girls collecting water, we’ve been able to meet men, potential suitors, future husbands. I’d met some of my husbands at a well.

That day, as I was preparing to draw water, a man came up to me at Jacob’s Well. By this time of day, most men would be working in the fields or tending animals. So, I didn’t expect to see any man there. And I certainly didn’t expect any man to speak to me, much less a Jew.

In my world this was not proper. A woman didn’t speak to a strange man. And a Samaritan woman, like I was, certainly never spoke to a Jewish man or the other way around. You see there was a long history between our people--the Israelites and the Samaritans. Even though we were both descended from Joseph, the Jews considered us half-breeds, below them. 

We had other differences, too. Perhaps, the biggest one was where to worship. The Jews insisted the only holy place to worship Yahweh was the temple in Jerusalem. We believed it was Mount Gerizim, the place where Abraham nearly sacrificed Isaac. 

So, when this man, this Jew, asked me, a Samaritan woman for a drink of water at the well, I was stunned. I probably should have gathered my bucket and run away. Instead, I spoke to him. I even surprised myself that I spoke to him. I asked him how he, a Jewish man, could ask me, a Samaritan woman, for something to drink. 

What he said back confused me. Living water? He said that if I recognized who was asking for water to drink that I would be asking for water. For living water. I was so confused. I asked him what he meant.

Then, he said something that was almost silly. He said that anyone who would drink the water from this well--from Jacob’s well--would be thirsty again. But that, if one would drink the water he gave--that living water--they would never thirst again. How ridiculous that was! To think that one would never again be thirsty. So, it was with some sarcasm that I said to him, “Give me some of that water. I never want to be thirsty again.”

He responded, telling me to go get my husband. I said I didn’t have one. I didn’t. I was not married to the man I was living with because we were unable to be married. Then, this man, this Jew, told me my own history--the history of my five husbands. And of my current situation. He knew who I was. And, then, I knew who he was.

He was a prophet. He had to be a prophet to know those things about me. So, then, I asked him a question about worship. About whether we, Samaritans, were right about where to worship. Or whether the Jews were right.

And, then, he told me about a future time. A time when we would not worship Yahweh on a mountain or in Jerusalem. But in spirit. In our hearts. In truth. That this time was coming near.

I thought he was talking about the promised Messiah. The one to come. The Christ. So, I said that to him--that when he, the Christ, comes, he will teach us everything. Everything we need to know.

Then, this man, this Jewish man, said, “I am.” 

I am. Do you remember those words? You know the Hebrew scriptures, don’t you? I am. Those were the words Yahweh said to Moses, when Moses asked who Yahweh was. I am.

“Could it be?” I thought. “Could it be that this man, this Jewish man, this prophet--could he be the Messiah? The Christ? Could it be?”

It was then that several men joined us. I know now they were his followers. I knew they were shocked that he was speaking to me. It was obvious on their faces. So, I put down my jar and I went back to my village. I thought that was the best thing to do. Besides, I wanted to tell others about this man I had met at the well, at our watering place. I wanted to tell them to come and see. That this man had told me everything that had happened in my life. That they needed to come and see--to see if this was the Christ, the promised One.

Many returned with me to the well. He and his followers were still there. So, we asked him to stay with us. To come with us back to our village. To tell us more. They did. They stayed with us two days.

And in that two days, we began to understand and to believe that this man was the Messiah. That he had come. To save us. To save all of us. The whole world.

A drink of water. That’s how it started. A drink of living water. From that moment on, I was no longer on the outside of society. None of us were. That’s what happens when we receive the living water that Christ gives us. 

You have that living water here. In your baptism. With the water and with God’s Word, you are no longer on the outside, no longer alone. You are welcomed into relationship. Into relationship with God. Into relationship with each other. Into relationship with all believers so that you might invite all others into relationship. All those who, like I was, were on that edge of the world, on the margin of society. All those who are different from us, those with whom we disagree, those whom we hate, those who we think are less than we are. All others.

God--Yahweh--welcomes all of us into relationship. Here. Through this living water of baptism.

So, drink. Drink. Drink of this living water. Be filled. May your thirst be quenched forever. May your life be changed as mine was changed. Amen.

Preached March 19, 2017 at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Third Sunday in Lent.
Readings: Exodus 17:1-7, Psalm 95, Romans 5:1-11, John 4:1-42.