Who We Are: Generosity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12th Sunday after Pentecost.

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

The Call to Serve: Authority and a Few Other Things

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Call to Serve: The Eye of the Needle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God's Plan for Peace: Practicing Peace

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

Today, with our reading from the prophet Micah, we make a shift. It’s actually our third shift this fall. We began in September in the Torah - those first five books of the Hebrew scripture that are the instruction manual for Israel - instructions that teach them about who God is and who they are to be in relationship with God. 

In October, we shifted into the historical books of the Old Testament. The books that tell us about the history of God’s chosen people, Israel. About their nation and their leadership. And, especially about Kings David and Solomon. Then, last week, in our story of the Prophet Elisha and Naaman, we began to make a shift - a transition that becomes complete today - from the historical books of the Hebrew scriptures to the prophets. Books like Isaiah. And Jeremiah. And Habakkuk (that’s one we don’t read often!). And, today, from the Prophet Micah.

So, what do we know about Micah? Anyone? He is in the list of those we call the “minor prophets.” Now that’s not intended to be a derogatory term. It just refers to the length of the prophets’ writing. The smaller books are called the minor prophets. Books like Hosea, and Joel, and Amos, and, of course, Micah. These are in contrast to the larger books, what we call the “major prophets” - like Isaiah and Jeremiah and a few others.

Micah is what we call a pre-exilic prophet. This means that he lived and wrote in the times before the fall of Jerusalem and the exile of the Jewish people. 

Last week, we talked about how, after Solomon’s reign, the conflict between the northern and southern tribes of Israel had grown to the point that the kingdom split in two. Permanently. In the north was the kingdom of Israel. The capital of the northern nation of Israel was Samaria. 

The southern kingdom was known as Judah, named after one of the twelve tribes. Its capital was Jerusalem. Elisha, whom we learned about last week, was a prophet in the northern kingdom of Israel. He had been sent to the northern tribes to warn them about the coming threat at their northern border by the Assyrians.  

By the time we get to Micah, about 100 years has passed. Israel and its capital city, Samaria, have fallen to the Assyrians in the north. In a series of power-building moves, Assyria had proceeded to move south and annex more territory. This included lands near Jerusalem - tribes who had refused to pay tribute to Assyria. The Assyrians are edging closer and closer to Jerusalem. The only thing, so far, that has helped Jerusalem avoid the fate of its neighbors to the north is that its king - Hezekiah - has agreed to pay tribute to Assyria, so that Jerusalem can remain independent.

But, there is a another threat, a growing threat, to Jerusalem coming from the south. The Babylonians are approaching. It is at this point in time where we first hear from Micah. He was a contemporary of Isaiah. The difference between the two of them was that Isaiah was a city boy - born in Jerusalem. And Micah, well, we might call him that “country bumpkin.” He was from a small, rural village in the south, called Moresheth. So, you can imagine the response to him by those in the city - in sophisticated Jerusalem - as he warned them of impending doom. A warning in the opening verses of Micah. 

Look! The Lord is coming out from his place;
        he will go down and tread on the shrines of the earth.
Then the mountains will melt under him;
        the valleys will split apart,
            like wax yielding to the fire,
            like waters poured down a slope.
All this is for the crime of Jacob
        and the sins of the house of Israel.
        Who is responsible for the crime of Jacob?
                Isn’t it Samaria?
            Who is responsible for the shrines of Judah?
                Isn’t it Jerusalem? Micah 1:3-5 (CEB)

Micah was trying to warn Jerusalem that it would soon suffer the same fate as Samaria in the north. That it would fall, like the north, because of its sin - because of its idolatry and, particularly, of its injustice. This was the primary focus of Micah’s challenge to them. The injustice that its leaders engaged in. Political. And religious leaders. Micah claims its rulers abhor justice. And pervert equity. They are susceptible to bribes. Its priests, he says, teach for a price. They offer visions for a price. They prophesy “peace” to those who pay them well. But declare war against those who do not pay. 

Both the political and the religious leaders have an inherent desire for power. They can all be bought for a price. Their priorities are to gain power and wealth for themselves and not to practice justice for the community they serve. They destroy the people who depend upon them. They devour them. They use them. They abuse them.

Power can be a very seductive thing. Abusing it even more so. When, I worked in the courts in the 1990’s, we saw it. Frequently. We jokingly called it “black robe disease.” When a judge became seduced by his or her own power and began to abuse and misuse it.  Often completely unaware that they had caught the disease. Because power is not only seductive, it is deceptive.

This is what Micah was confronting the leaders about. Because he knew that corrupt leaders are sometimes responsible for the fall of nations. And churches. And so Micah speaks the prophetic word. Word that is intended to enrich the life of the whole community. Word that is, particularly, about justice and equity for those who are powerless.

But, Micah’s word is not only gloom and doom. It is also one of hope. Micah goes to Jerusalem, not to destroy their hope, but to re-center it. To give the people a vision of the future, a vision of hope. We read in chapter 5.

As for you, Bethlehem of Ephrathah,
    though you are the least significant of Judah’s forces,
        one who is to be a ruler in Israel on my behalf will come out from you.
    His origin is from remote times, from ancient days.
Therefore, he will give them up
        until the time when she who is in labor gives birth.
        The rest of his kin will return to the people of Israel.
He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord,
        in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
        They will dwell secure,
        because he will surely become great throughout the earth;
        he will become one of peace.  Micah 5:2-5a (CEB)

We hear these words - these words often from Advent - we hear them with 20/20 hindsight. Yet, for Israel, they were a reminder of God’s faithfulness. Of how God had previously kept God’s promises to them, delivering them out of slavery, and raising up a lowly shepherd from Bethlehem, Jesse’s son. King David. Micah’s words were a reminder for them of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. And, yet, they were also a new promise - a promise of a new king, one who would rule the earth. And One who would bring peace.  

It is to these words of hope, then, that the people respond. From Micah, chapter 6. 

With what should I approach the Lord
        and bow down before God on high?
Should I come before him with entirely burned offerings,
        with year-old calves?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
        with many torrents of oil?
Should I give my oldest child for my crime;
        the fruit of my body for the sin of my spirit?
He has told you, human one, what is good and
        what the Lord requires from you:
            to do justice, to love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:6-8 (CEB)


“What do you want from us?” This is really the question they are asking. Perhaps they are bargaining, sensing that they are in the midst of a massive national upheaval. They feel the threat and understand the need to be saved. “What do you want from us?" they ask. And then they begin their offers. Offers that begin with a year-old calf, which would be a normal offering, like a tithe. But, then, offers that become extraordinary. From thousands of rams and many streams of oil - massive offerings - to the very personal. Pieces of themselves. Their first-born children. 

“What do you want from us?” the leaders ask. 

It’s simple, Micah tells them. What the Lord requires is very simple. Three things. To do justice. To love kindness. And to walk humbly with God. Three things that are so simple. But, three things that are not easy.

You and I - we have that gift of hindsight. We know that God’s plan for peace would not rely on Judah’s leaders, or on us, to do these three things. We know that God’s plan for peace would be a one-sided plan. One in which God would come down to us, as God always does, in the most humble way - as a child. A child who would grow up to bear our sin and the sins of the whole world. Who would die on the cross for us. And, through whom, we would understand the true nature of God. Grace. Forgiveness. Love. And peace.

Because that is God’s dream. A dream of peace. It is also our best response in a world that for us, too, seems to be in great upheaval. But, how do we do these three simple things, especially when we know they are not easy. Sometimes, we find deep truth in places other than scripture. In simple places. In children’s books, such as in one written by Desmond Tutu, entitled, “God’s Dream.” 

May we, who have been freed through God’s grace, continue to do God’s work. Of justice. Of kindness. Of walking humbly with our God. So that God might smile and we might see more rainbows. Amen.

Preached November 11, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 25
Readings: Micah 1:3-5, 5:2-5a, 6:6-8; Matt. 9:13

Living Faithfully in the Promise: Seeking Wisdom

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

In last week’s reading, we heard the story about King David. About his sin against Bathsheba and her husband, Uriah. And about how David was confronted by the prophet, Naaman, over his sin. David recognized how deeply he had sinned against God. He repented. And God forgave him. Yet, as I mentioned last week, even though God forgave David for his sin, David did not escape the consequences of his sin and off how he had allowed himself to be corrupted by power. His same dysfunction eventually spread throughout his family. After losing the child he had fathered with Bathsheba, David also witnessed one of his sons sexually assault a daughter, a second son killing the first because of it, and a third son, who attempted to overthrow David and lose his life in the process. 

Today, we hear a story about King Solomon, the second son of David and Bathsheba. By the time we reach our story today, David has died. After a great deal of political turmoil, Solomon has taken the reigns of the kingdom, likely as a young teenager. It is here where we pick up the story, reading from 1 Kings, chapter 4. (1 Kings 4:3-15)

Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of his father David; only, he sacrificed and offered incense at the high places. The king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there, for that was the principal high place; Solomon used to offer a thousand burnt offerings on that altar. At Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night; and God said, “Ask what I should give you.” And Solomon said, “You have shown great and steadfast love to your servant my father David, because he walked before you in faithfulness, in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart toward you; and you have kept for him this great and steadfast love, and have given him a son to sit on his throne today. And now, O Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David, although I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. And your servant is in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a great people, so numerous they cannot be numbered or counted. Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?”

It pleased the Lord that Solomon had asked this. God said to him, “Because you have asked this, and have not asked for yourself long life or riches, or for the life of your enemies, but have asked for yourself understanding to discern what is right, I now do according to your word. Indeed I give you a wise and discerning mind; no one like you has been before you and no one like you shall arise after you. I give you also what you have not asked, both riches and honor all your life; no other king shall compare with you. If you will walk in my ways, keeping my statutes and my commandments, as your father David walked, then I will lengthen your life.”


Then Solomon awoke; it had been a dream. He came to Jerusalem where he stood before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. He offered up burnt offerings and offerings of well-being, and provided a feast for all his servants. 1 Kings 3:3-15 (NRSV)

There are many tales throughout history of some supernatural power that offers a certain someone a wish. Or two. Or three. Who remembers “I Dream of Jeannie,” from the 70’s? Or how about Aladdin and his magic lamp? Or did you hear the story about the married couple? Both of them were 60 years old and celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary. During their party, they were given a gift. As they opened it, they found a lamp. And out came a genie. He congratulated them on their anniversary and then offered to grant each of them one wish.  The wife wanted to travel around the world. The genie waved his wand and “poof,” the wife had tickets in her hand for a world cruise. Next, the genie asked the husband what he wanted. He said, “I wish I had a wife 30 years younger than me.” So the genie picked up his wand and “poof,” the husband was immediately 90 years old.

Now God isn’t a magic genie. Even though sometimes we might like to think so. But, in our story, God comes to Solomon - this new, young, teenage king. And God says - actually, God commands Solomon to ask. “Ask for anything you want. And I’ll give it to you.”

I wonder if, as a teenager, I would have had the presence of mind to ask for what Solomon did. “A discerning mind” is what he wanted. Literally, in the Hebrew, it is translated a “listening heart.” In biblical understanding, the heart is not the place of feelings or emotions. It is the center of understanding and will. It is the heart that determines what one’s spiritual direction will be. The place where God influences and determines who we will be. So, to be in line with God’s advice and God’s will, we have to listen to God in our heart. In asking for a “listening heart,” Solomon is asking that there would be unity between himself and God. And that this this unity would determine his actions - how he would reign as king.

It was an impressive request coming from one so young. It impressed God. And pleased God. And so, God not only blessed Solomon with wisdom, but also with things that he didn’t ask for. Wealth. And fame. And a promise that, if Solomon would walk in God’s ways and obey God’s commands, he would live a long life just like his father David.

Immediately, Solomon’s “listening heart” was put to the test. We continue reading at chapter 4, verse 16. (1 Kings 4:16-28)

Later, two women who were prostitutes came to the king and stood before him. The one woman said, “Please, my lord, this woman and I live in the same house; and I gave birth while she was in the house. Then on the third day after I gave birth, this woman also gave birth. We were together; there was no one else with us in the house, only the two of us were in the house. Then this woman’s son died in the night, because she lay on him. She got up in the middle of the night and took my son from beside me while your servant slept. She laid him at her breast, and laid her dead son at my breast. When I rose in the morning to nurse my son, I saw that he was dead; but when I looked at him closely in the morning, clearly it was not the son I had borne.” But the other woman said, “No, the living son is mine, and the dead son is yours.” The first said, “No, the dead son is yours, and the living son is mine.” So they argued before the king.


Then the king said, “The one says, ‘This is my son that is alive, and your son is dead’; while the other says, ‘Not so! Your son is dead, and my son is the living one.’” So the king said, “Bring me a sword,” and they brought a sword before the king. The king said, “Divide the living boy in two; then give half to the one, and half to the other.” But the woman whose son was alive said to the king—because compassion for her son burned within her—“Please, my lord, give her the living boy; certainly do not kill him!” The other said, “It shall be neither mine nor yours; divide it.” Then the king responded: “Give the first woman the living boy; do not kill him. She is his mother.” All Israel heard of the judgment that the king had rendered; and they stood in awe of the king, because they perceived that the wisdom of God was in him, to execute justice. 1 Kings 3:16-28 (NRSV)

Two prostitutes came before Solomon. Before, we explore this story, it’s important for us to understand a few things. Being a prostitute in ancient Israel didn’t carry with it the same moral judgment that it does in our time. It likely meant that both of these women were widowed, with no family, and no means of support. They lived together. Each with a baby. We might wonder why Solomon’s first test concerns women, who were single parents and prostitutes. Perhaps the storyteller is intentionally giving us this image of the person of the highest social standing listening to those with the lowest standing. Because it is a wise leader and a wise person who will attend to the humanity and the rights even of those whom others consider of no great importance.

Whatever the storyteller’s intent, Solomon hears their matter. These women lived in the same house, and each had a baby. During the night, one had accidentally smothered her child. She then switched her dead infant for the living one. Now, each woman claimed the remaining living child as her own. 

In a stroke of inspired genius, Solomon suggests they cut the baby in half, giving half to one mother, half to the other. Of course, the true mother would willingly give up her child, rather than see it killed. Which is exactly what happened. And which identified for Solomon who the true mother was. This was the wise judgment of this young king. Knowledge of him spread throughout all Israel.  And respect for Solomon grew, too, because the people of Israel knew that God’s wisdom had been given to Solomon.

But it was the other things God had given to Solomon that would become his downfall. He would not be able to govern himself or to control his own desires. Although he was wise and discerning with others, he wasn’t with his own appetite for power and women and food. He became known for his extravagant wealth and his consumption, for his number of wives - over 700, and for worshipping at the places of his pagan wives. All of this would eventually lead the kingdom to the edge of bankruptcy and, after his death, to divide and eventually be exiled. All because Solomon could not control his own desires. 

Solomon was known for such amazing things and, yet, he was a profoundly flawed human being. Like so many others we have heard about over these past few weeks. How is it that someone can be so profoundly a sinner and, yet, so profoundly used by God? This is the great paradox of the Reformation. What Martin Luther called, in the Latin, simul justus et peccator. Simultaneously saint and sinner. It’s what Solomon was. What David was. What we are. 

So often, though, we don’t think of ourselves as saints. We may not be particularly bad, we think, but, certainly, we’re not like the super-holy people we call saints. Yet, being a saint isn’t about what we do or don’t do. It is about who we are in relationship with God. That’s also true of being a sinner. The Lutheran confessions define sin as the “self-centered failure to trust God.” Solomon’s problem - and ours - is not that we break God’s rules. It’s that we desire to be “like God.” To rely upon our own judgment instead of trusting God’s word. To rely upon our own knowledge instead of having faith in God’s wisdom.

It is why we come here. Because, it is here, in community with each other, where we weekly come face-to-face with our sinner side. With our inability to trust. And where we are forgiven each time. It’s where we become “saints” - or as Luther would define it, we become forgiven sinners. Because it’s not that we change into something different. It’s because our relationship with God changes as a result of God’s grace. What matters most is not what we do or decide, but that Jesus died for us. It is because of this that, when we look in the mirror and see ourselves as sinners, God looks at us and, through Christ, sees saints. 

This is the gift of our Lutheran heritage. A heritage that points to what God has done and to how graciously God has loved and forgiven us, even when we, like Solomon, fall so short. This love and forgiveness is what we can rely upon in a world that has become so filled with hate. Hate that we have seen so vividly this week - in the sending of IED’s to public leaders, in the local shooting at Kroger, in the massacre of several of our ancestors in faith yesterday at the synagogue in Pittsburgh. 

Our world so desperately needs this message of grace and love - the gift of God and our Lutheran heritage. May we claim this heritage and may God give us, like Solomon, “listening hearts”  - hearts that are united with God’s will so that we might share God’s grace and love with all the world. Amen.

Preached October 28, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Reformation Sunday
Readings: Matthew 6:9-10, 1 Kings 3:4-28.

Treasure Hunting: Our Hearts and Grief

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus said, “I assure you that anyone who has left house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms because of me and because of the good news will receive one hundred times as much now in this life—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and farms (with harassment)—and in the coming age, eternal life. But many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first.” Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)

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

I’ve been thinking a lot this past week about the experience we had here last Sunday morning. In case you missed it, would any of you like to share what happened? That’s right. We had a Spanish-speaking family visit us last Sunday—a husband and his wife and their two children, a boy and a little girl. They were a lovely family. As we communicated with them, difficult as that was, we learned that they were traveling from the East Coast to Texas. That they had gone to the East Coast for work, that this hadn’t worked out, and that they were returning to Texas, which is where they had originally travelled from. They were seeking help from us—help to ensure they had money for gas and, perhaps, a place to stop to rest. This was their story.

What if, though...what if the story they told was untrue? What if they were telling us a lie?

I returned late last night from Seattle. I was there for a conference of congregational developers and re-developers. These are pastors who are called to a place to either start new churches or to help lead with the revitalization of existing congregations. While I was there, I heard a lot of stories about some of these existing congregations around the ELCA—congregations stuck in the past or isolated within their church’s walls. Congregations who refused to look outward, to go out into the neighborhood. Unwilling to look for where the Holy Spirit might already be at work in their community. Congregations unwilling to be open-hearted.

As I sat there and listened to these difficult stories, all I could do was to reflect upon our experience here last Sunday. I felt this incredible sense of joy. More like pride, really, at how warmly you, the members of this congregation, welcomed this family. In fact, at times I felt overwhelmed by your response—at how you gave of yourselves and your own wealth so abundantly—with even a couple of you going to get cash to give. Or how you helped them pack up food from our pantry so generously and graciously. But, mostly, how you opened your hearts so openly. Without worry, which was the very thing we talked about last week. 

This was the first thing that remained with me from last week and, to be quite honest with you, this is what matters most--that you responded with such generosity and open-heartedness, trusting that God was calling you at that very moment to a deep place of generosity.

There was a second thing that stuck with me...something that left me wondering a little bit. As we packed them into their van, knowing that they had so little and that it was very likely that everything they owned was in this van, I began to wonder about whether I could survive with so little. Whether I could survive without all of my possessions. Without my stuff.

It’s that question of possessions that is central to our story this morning. Here we have a man—a rich man—who approaches Jesus. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” He asks. What must I do to inherit eternal life?

Do you notice Jesus’ response? He recalls for the man several of the Ten Commandments—commandments that, if you recall from earlier this summer, come from what is often called the “second table” of commandments. The “first table” teaches us how we are to live in relationship to God. The second table—those Jesus reminds him of here—are the ones that teach us how we are to live in relationship with each other. Jesus tells him that he must keep these commandments.

“I’ve kept all of them—every one of them!” The man replies. Now, my initial thought is “What arrogance this man has!” Yet, if we read the text carefully, one notices that it seems that he is completely sincere. The opening verse says he came to Jesus and kneeled down before him. It would appear that he truly wanted to know. Jesus recognizes this sincerity. Our text reads that Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. Loved him. 

And, then, Jesus told him to sell everything—all that he had. All of his riches, his great wealth. And to give the money to the poor. 

We must be careful here about what this text says to us. It’s easy to jump to the conclusion that being rich is sinful. Or that having wealth will keep us from being in God’s kingdom. After all, doesn’t Jesus go on just a few verses later that it will be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom? But, that’s not the message of this story. When Jesus asks him to dispose of all of his stuff, then man turns and walks away, grieving. Grieving, our story says, because he had many possessions.

You see, Jesus knew that the big roadblock to his man being in relationship with both God and with his neighbor was his stuff. It was the emotional investment he had in his stuff—an emotional attachment so deep that, to even consider giving it all away, left him grieving. 

We live in a consumeristic culture. A culture that teaches us that there is a value in things, in our possessions. That we should strive for these things. Our status is so often connected to how much stuff we have. And we, very easily, can become emotionally attached to our stuff. If you’ve ever had to take a cell phone or a Game Boy or some other electronic device away from a teenager or a child, and then witnessed the accompanying grief, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  

We, adults, aren’t much better. We all wrestle with this—with the emotional attachment we have to our stuff and the investment we have in wealth and getting more and more of it. At the core of this is grief. Just like the rich man, who grieved over the idea of giving up all his wealth and turning his entire life over to God, we also grieve over the thought that we have to give it all up to be in relationship with God.

I wonder, though, if this is really the message here. Think about it. God doesn’t hate stuff. In fact, matter matters to God. Because God is all about creating stuff. About making new things out of the old. About making more stuff.

I wonder if the invitation for us is to think differently. Instead of feeling guilty and ashamed about our stuff, what if we were to rethink our relationship to it and wonder how, through our connection to things, we might better connect to our neighbors. To wonder how we might pick something up and consider how we might use it for our neighbor. To clean out that closet and give our clothes to a neighbor or to Goodwill for someone else to use—someone who, perhaps, doesn’t have the abundance we do. 

Or, perhaps, it’s an invitation to pick something up and reflect upon what the cost was to get it to our houses. About the wages paid to the person who made it. About the cost to the environment to create it or to dispose of it.  And then to consider an alternative that isn’t as costly to our created world.

Or maybe it’s even a way for us to deepen our relationship with others by sharing the richness of the emotional attachment we might have to something—the expensive grand piano that has been passed down in your family and the memories we have of those who played it. Or the Bible that, in my family, for example, was given to me by my grandmother who painstakingly tracked all of the births, marriages, and deaths in our family over the past several generations.

Perhaps, in his challenge to the rich man, Jesus isn’t trying to guilt or shame him, or us, but to inspire generosity and to give us a sense of freedom. To lift the weight off of us from all our stuff and to help us see that true life doesn’t come from that stuff, but from our relationships. Our relationships with others. And, particularly, our relationship with God.

Because God is the agent of our saving. We aren’t. And our stuff certainly isn’t. God is. Giver of the greatest gift to us—the gift of life in Jesus. Not a life of grief over losing our possessions. But a life of joy in gaining God’s kingdom. And a life that is reoriented away from our possessions to one of free and generous stewardship, serving God. Where our money and wealth are agents of that service.

We give thanks for God’s gifts. May God give us such clean hearts and right spirits in which to use them. Amen. 

Preached August 26, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 14
Readings: Mark 10:17-31 (Psalm 51:10-12)